Well everything after my first Ironman at Texas has, frankly, been very tough. There has been plenty to talk of, however, none of it very positive. Basically, I have bounced in and out of overtraining for several months and more recently a flare up of runner's knee that turned out to be much worse than originally perceived which have led to a LOT of either laying around doing nothing or going out to happy hour to stave off the disappointment of not being able to train.
It started about 18 days after Ironman. I didn't realize it then, but looking back this was the workout that did it. For two weeks I did next to nothing. Until it was time to race at Best of the US. An opportunity I could not pass up. Best of the US went, in large part, uneventful. For me, a low 23' swim for an Olympic was decent, however, it put me in DFL for the division. Luckily, there were other racers in the elite division of the Leon's Triathlon to come out of the water around me. On the bike, it was a slow day. Watts weren't great, but the course, being cold and windy with rough roads, did not suit my strengths. Still, I pushed as hard as I could on the bike and was just happy to find my legs didn't give out on me on the run as I barely broke 40' for the 10k, passing only 2 people in the division. At this point though, I figured, I was now on my way back to recovery. How wrong that was...
The workout started out as a nice easy ride back in Tulsa, OK, at the famous Wednesday Night Ride. And I did go easy. Until the legs started to feel really good. Really powerful. I started to ride tempo for a bit. It felt good. Really good. And that's when I saw them. The fast group. Forty to fifty Category 1-3 cyclists about to haul ass on the final stretch on Avery drive building into a massive finishing sprint. I decided to see if I could catch up. I was there quicker than I thought. But they were just getting moving. Once I had passed all but three or four, I became noticed, and they weren't about to let a triathlete have even a few seconds of glory. The pace got hot, and I was already maxed out trying to at least make it to the front for a second or two before dropping dead where I stood. Luckily, I had my race wheels and tires still attached from the previous race and was making it difficult. After what seemed an eternity, I made the pass; and promptly was swallowed up. With my heart in my mouth, I jumped out of the aerobars and tucked in for the ride, somehow surviving until the final sprint. Turns out, that 15' was the hardest I had ever rode for that time period and yielded a very good new 10' power. I was ecstatic.
That's when it all came unraveled. The next days' recovery runs became tougher and tougher, until that Sunday I tried to race a small aquathlon and found myself struggling to run a 9' mile for the 5k run. The next weekend was a sprint triathlon where I ran my slowest 5k in years and could barely hold Ironman watts for the bike leg. I thought I was simply out of shape, as it didn't feel the same as when I was overtrained last year. My resting heart rate was even still within parameters. But when I tried to breathe, it felt like I couldn't get oxygen. I decided this was a time to suck it up and push on. Two weeks later, I had built back up to a solid century ride with good power, but my heart rate was high the entire time. Too high. Things still weren't right. I had to rest.
After a few more weeks of rest just not doing what it should, I had started to finally realize it could be overtraining. Not the type I had experienced last year, but a different kind. Overtraining of a different nervous system. Until this point, I hadn't realized there were multiple types of overtraining. Last time, it was parasympathetic. This time, the sympathetic system. My only option was, sigh, much more rest.
Luckily, it hadn't gotten too bad. It was almost as if I had been bouncing back and forth across the line during the first half of the summer. It was mid-July now, however, and Ironman Louisville loomed just 6 weeks away. Three weeks later I had no idea where my fitness would be, but I was going to race the Boulder 70.3 because one, I had signed up and two, I had paid for it. It turned out to be the first day in months that I was finally healthy. I cruised to a sub-5 finish with ease, despite poor fitness and the atmosphere of a race making it difficult to treat the day as a training one.
Two and a half hard weeks later though and I had the majority of my fitness back and was ready to give it my all for my last shot at Kona this year. Ironman Louisville started out well enough, with a swim time 3' faster than at Texas despite no time in the pool for the last two months and swimming much easier (course was likely 6' faster with current). With a faster and more efficient transition I started the bike a solid 5' ahead of my Texas split and target power was feeling relatively easy. I was ready to blitz the course and hope my run fitness was good enough for a spot. Twenty-five miles in, on a steep hill, I shifted hard to my easiest gear and instantly regretted it. The chain had gotten stuck between the derailleur and wheel. It would be an hour and 20' before SAG finally was able to get into the area and get the chain loose. I literally had to wait for every single person in the race to pass me. My shot at Kona was gone for the year.
If there was an opportunity to quit the race right there, I would have took it. But I had to at least bike back to transition, so I figured I might as well take the long way in. From there, I rode endurance watts in and tested my new strategies for keeping cool in the heat. I figured I would walk most of the run. But after a few miles I joined up with some good company and decided to run him in for a 12:31 finish. My additional heat strategies worked well enough I almost felt cold in the 90 degree heat during the run. Heart rate stayed stuck at a 145 average the entire run, 30 beats below what I raced at in Texas! Overall, I was pleased to be able to finish around 11:10ish for an easy endurance pace and very proud of my mental strength for pushing through what was an extremely painful run and bike in a very different way. With a long ride of 3 hours and a long run of 1:20 as prep for the race, everything that normally doesn't hurt was incredibly painful. Back, shoulders, neck on the bike. FEET on the run. I was worried my feet might fall off after 15 miles. After 26.2...
After a dismal end to an otherwise successful season, I had to finish with a bang. Instead of training for Kona I figured I would train for a marathon. Three weeks away should be plenty of time, right? And it would have, if it wasn't for an old runner's knee flare up from two weeks of hard cycling, hiking, and trail running out in Moab and along the coast of California. The Denver Marathon became my first DNF from injury. It was too much too fast and I should have known, might have known, if I hadn't been having so much fun being able to hike, bike and run to my heart's content.
Lesson learned? It's not just knowing when to back off but also how much for how long and how to properly come back.
No comments:
Post a Comment