Wednesday, February 20, 2019

I'm pedaling backwards

Of all the things to break me — five miles on a treadmill. 

Things were going well until Friday. I took it easy for a few days after the Golden Gate 50K, felt strong during a five-hour run on Wednesday, and put down some good power during a ride on Thursday. On Friday I conducted my twice-monthly treadmill test. My purpose for this series of intervals is to steadily boost my heart rate to near-maximum while measuring blood oxygen saturation, to see whether the readings correlate with my perceived symptoms (i.e. dizziness) and track how this changes over time. I've been on an upward arc since I started this test in November, and Friday was my best session yet — the lowest SpO2 reading I saw was 89 percent, and I felt perhaps only mildly lightheaded while sprinting. I even managed to hold out for all three minutes at 10 mph. My legs reached their lactic threshold before I surpassed my "hit the stop button before I pass out" lung limit. 

 On Saturday I joined Dennis, Dan and Betsy for an impressive adventure ride into the Apex Valley. I call this ride impressive because, even though I live in the large and sporty population center of Colorado's Front Range, I didn't imagine I'd meet others who volunteer for and even enjoy such silliness. The afternoon was gray, the wind was howling and the chill was deeply cold. We mashed pedals up steep grades until loose and wind-drifted snow became too deep, and then pushed our bikes close to treeline. Up there the ground blizzard intensified to a whiteout, and we agreed that it was rather silly to keep climbing without hope of rideable trail or views.

 I hate wearing my goggles, but it was good to try them out. I also made sure my beater fat bike — good ol' Fatty Fatback — was in working order for the trip to Alaska. See, next week I'm heading to Nome to spend most of a month on a "writers retreat" of sorts. I don't have big adventure plans; rather, I want to step out of my routine and spend real alone time in an inspiring place, to see whether this can spur some lost creativity. While in Nome I also hope to keep training for the White Mountains 100 and do a few exploration rides. When it comes to the weather in Nome, well, a day like this would probably be considered a nice day. Testing the gear — and my own resolve — is useful.


So this ride was a good test, but physically I felt rough. My legs were just empty. There was no power there, and when I tried to boost my speed, my breathing quickly became ragged. To my friends I speculated the cause was too little rest after the treadmill test — after all, there were enough high-intensity sprints in there to count as speed work. But I have to admit that there were hints of ragged breathing when I was climbing Green Mountain on Wednesday, and also while charging into "The Wall" on Flagstaff Road on Thursday, even before my "speed work." I could blame overtraining, but I'm not convinced. It's difficult to explain why I feel strongly that "bad breathing" has nothing to do with fatigue. It's easier to just shrug and say, "yeah, I'm sure rest days will help." 

 Anyway, Beat wanted one more gear test with his modified snowshoes before his upcoming Iditarod Trail trek, so we headed to Niwot Ridge on Sunday. He's done training, so no need to drag a sled. Without the anchor, Beat set a blistering pace that I could not hold. At least the snow underfoot was the best kind of powder snow — packable but not too heavy, good for holding our weight without sticking like glue.

 We expected strong wind and potential blizzard — Sunday's forecast was even worse than Saturday's. But incredibly, Niwot seemed to reside beneath a pocket of calm surrounded by dark clouds and storms.

 We hiked to the research station at 11,600 feet, which has an auxiliary box that serves as a welcome wind shelter to enjoy lunch with a view. My tuna sandwich was already mostly frozen. Based on the frost forming on my clothing, temperatures here were easily close to zero degrees. The breeze may have been relatively mild, but it was still chilly enough to be highly motivating. We didn't linger long.

I still stalled as long as I could, claiming a few minutes to wander up the ridge and enjoy dynamic afternoon light on this windswept landscape.

 Beat letting me know he's ready to head down.

As we descended the eastern slope, we watched ominous clouds boil upward from the prairie. Walking downhill into the storm was strange, but sure enough, within a couple of miles we were surrounded by fog and spitting snow. While I didn't feel strong, I didn't feel too bad. It was grateful for this dynamic and beautiful Niwot outing, probably my last before it's officially summer.

Niwot was fun, but my workouts only continued downhill from there. Monday brought a terrible run that I don't need to rehash. The best part about it was the 5-degree air, so there was a least a little cold to distract from the ice-stumbling and hard breathing. Tuesday was a rest day. Today I headed up to Mount Sanitas for a "quick" outing on the Swoop. Usually this loop takes me 1:15. Today, 1:30. Whenever my breathing feels stifled, it almost becomes a fight between my legs and my lungs. My legs say, "We're bored. We want to go faster." My lungs say, "Back off. We're working as hard was we can." Sometimes I even stop to take a few big gulps of air, to see if this helps. It usually doesn't.

From what I've observed in my breathing tests, whenever I feel this way — a little lightheaded, inclined toward rapid and shallow breathing, and sometimes outright dizzy — my blood oxygen  tends to drop. I've seen as low as 81 percent before reaching my "mash the stop button on the treadmill before I pass out" limit. When I'm having a slump, these lightheaded sensations start to happen at a relatively low heart rate — today I barely boosted myself into the 150s, which explains the bored legs. What I haven't figured out is why this happens, why it doesn't always happen, and why I'm still having good weeks and bad. My good weeks have definitely expanded, but apparently there are still bad weeks sprinkled in the mix.

So, I arrived at the top of Mount Sanitas feeling all kinds of frustration and sadness. "I'm never going to break out of this cycle. There's no reason to even bother training." These thoughts spiraled into an overreaction that I elect to blame on hormones, because these slump periods bring about all kinds of weird emotions that remind me of being a moody teenager. I remembered it was my half birthday — when I was in elementary school, summer birthday kids always celebrated their "half birthday" in class, so Feb. 20 used to be a real thing for me. "In six months I'll be 40. I can see why middle age is such a downer. I'm old but I still potentially have a whole lot of time left to feel like crap."

About three miles into the Swoop, I wondered if this run would ever end. My bored legs were restless and defiant, like children in the backseat of a car on a long road trip. "As soon as this is over, I'm really going to quit running forever. I will drop out of the White Mountains 100. Watch me."

Also my brain: "What are you so sad about? You're going to Alaska. You love Alaska. Pull yourself together, girl."

I realize this is all massive overreaction. It was not that bad. But my breathing issues are just so frustrating for me. I feel like I'm trying new things. I was happy with my recent experimentation with CBD capsules (which I just happened to run out of two weeks ago. Hmm.) My training volume is not that high or hard — 10 to 15 hours a week, mostly at medium to low intensity. If my body can't handle that amount of volume, I have no hope of returning to endurance races like the Iditarod or Tour Divide. Forgive me if I want to keep trying.

Anyway, I'm on track for more rest days in Anchorage. Hopefully I'll feel better by the time I arrive in Nome. If not, perhaps I'll at least get more writing done — after all, if training doesn't matter, then I'm really going to struggle to find the motivation in weather that requires goggles. Hopefully whatever I write won't read like the melodramatic missives of a moody teenager. 

9 comments:

  1. I can totally relate to that mind/body/training dilemma....it never goes away and changes with age for me Lol. But I am finding my own periodization training, Staying in my 70 to 80% exertion zone (actual and preceived) for 70 to 80% of my training volume. That last 20 to 30% of training volume is in the 80 to 90% effort range....but only if I feel it's right! (Kinda a woo woo head/body thing :) ). Max effort is only once a month or so (the stars really have to feel in aliment!:) ). Anyway I have a long time horizon on my training, I want to be moving thru this world each day until my last day. Only then will i "win" my personal race! :)

    Jeff C

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    1. I don't disagree ... the "race" of life goes on regardless.

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  2. I'm with Jeff. I'm certainly not applying this to anyone but myself, but I've decided that comparison with my younger self just stresses me out. Recently I did three days of hard skiing but nowhere near what many people would consider hard, and I've felt tired for 2 days. A bummer for sure, but I can't change it. Enjoy AK and I hope you can recover some mojo. It's that time of year where it's a challenge, at least for me.

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    1. Thanks. I feel like I could be more accepting if this were more of a continuous situation, or parallel to normal aging or fitness curves. I don't even care about being faster or slower; I care about being able to move at an enjoyable pace without feeling the distress of hypoxia. On these bad days I feel distressed by moving in general, for any amount of time. Then a week or two later I'll be fine again and crushing PRs ... it just doesn't make sense.

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    2. Just to add a little more to "my" theory of fitness. Hypothyroidism,age and injuries over time have caused set backs and made figuring out myself and building a new "base" to work from, that I can maintain on a continuous day to day basis, a recurring occurrence...more than I care to even remember. It would look really jagged on a graph of fitness over time, which the low points where hard not to get into a spiral over! One thing I did find in my ongoing search for cause/effect (I sometimes wonder if that is even true) that as my base fitness level gets higher its easier to get into a overload situation and miss the cue's that I'm in the upper bound area. I train to visit that peak but I can't stay there, the price can be exponential. Morning HR has become a pretty good indicator if my stress level is too high. My "sweet spot" of just enough stress to trigger a adaptive response and giving my self enough time and nutrition to recover and advance is always a two step forward one step back process it seems. I'm so non linear!! hate the days when "it's just not there" vs the days that "I can crush it" and that can change during the same day! That's where my mind/body thing comes in and I have to tell myself "NO! the tide is going out, ride the swell when it rolls back in" ;)doesn't always work but I try.
      You made huge recovery and progress from where you where at your low point! I believe you have the pieces to your puzzle, you just need more time to figure out how they go together. I've read your blog long enough that I know that your not going to give up or that your looking for support. That is what I find so amazing about your blog, your sharing a slice of your story of going thru life that everyone can relate to on some level but are unable to weave it together in a narrative that anyone could understand....well, I'm speaking of myself :) Nobody should take anything I say as what they should do, I'm just glad that you have a forum here that one can share back a little. Thanks!!

      Jeff C

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    3. Opps I realized during the day that I may have used the wrong word and sure enough i did. The comment about reading your blog and saying "your not looking for support" is wrong I meant to say "sympathy". You've stated many times that this blog is cathartic for you. I'm not a writer so I will just shut up now and be quite. lol

      Jeff C

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  3. Long time reader, but I can't remember if you've worked with a cardiologist in sorting out your health issues. Trying to get in at a major medical center, might be worthwhile.

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  4. I've just finished reading Kristin Hannah's The Great Alone, set in Alaska. Would you ever consider writing a novel which drew on your experiences of Alaska and the Idiorod Trail?

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    1. I've dabbled in fiction but I'm never terribly happy with the results. I should probably spend more time with it, but I admittedly have a strong preference toward "journalism." As a reader, it's difficult for me to invest in stories that aren't true, and I'm learning this disinterest carries into my writing as well. Still, it would be a good challenge.

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