When You Dig Yourself into a Hole (part I)

Overtraining is a slow and silent killer. When most people think “injury” they think a physical ailment, but what happens when your engine gives out before your body?

You aren’t healthy and you enter into a secret psychological warfare with yourself. That’s what happens.

Pain is useful. It is a mechanism so your brain can recognize when you are doing something harmful to your body. Your hamstring isn’t hurting just to piss you off, it’s hurting to get through to your stubborn, goal-oriented mind that maybe, just maybe, it needs a rest day.

The issue with overtraining is that you don’t have these clear-cut, painful warning signs to ignore. You, instead, have signs that make you question your own mental strength.

Luckily, I am going to give you my list of clear-cut warning signs.

Progression of overtraining:

1.     Easy runs feel hard

Do not force easy runs. The “if my easy runs are faster, then it means I’m really fit and my hard workouts should be faster too” training philosophy is just plain crazy.

Solution: Slow down

2.     You have a stank attitude for a few days.

As a crazy runner, you will probably be inclined to give yourself the Don’t-be-a-baby-and-game-up talk. This is noble. If you do this for more than 3 days in a row, you go from being noble to being a fool. Those hormones that control recovery? They are the same hormones that control your mood. Being Mrs. stank pants is your brain and body working together convincing you to take the day off. 

Solution: Take the day off

3.     You can’t finish races.

Not that you just slow down, but that you slow down and your entire body locks up to the point where grandmas could pass you.

This symptom mimics being out of shape. So that crazy person inside of you will try to convince you that more work is needed for a better finish. This perpetuates the overtraining.

Solution: Take a few days of slow running with strides until your legs don’t feel like they weigh a million pounds.

4.     Your workouts become spotty.

Where you can’t fake races, you can fake workouts. Until you can’t.

That 60 second 400m repeat feels like a 53second 400m. I know it doesn’t make sense. You could cruise 60-second quarters all day one week, and 3 weeks later you regressed. WTF happened? You will probably work hard to convince yourself that you got out of shape while working out over the past 3 weeks. You didn’t. That doesn’t even make sense.

Solution: Take 2 days completely off and don’t even think about running. Just do it (Nike plug), trust me.

5.     You feel tired. All the time. And can’t sleep.

This is bad. You have ignored signs in your running life for so long that now your non-running life is out of whack. Your hormones are about to go into shit-hit-the-fan mode.

Solution: Sleep as much as you can. Cut out all caffeine.

6.     You don’t have an appetite.

Your body trying hard to shut you down.

Solution: Make yourself eat as much as possible. Bump up the calories. Over sleeping and eating will hopefully trigger your stressed-out-of-its-mind mind that it is not in a state of warfare.

7.     Complete apathy.

I have never been depressed, but I assume it is something like being this over trained. At this level you don’t even realize or care that your running has gone to pieces. George Clooney could sucker punch you and you would have no emotional response.

Solution: You, my friend, need a mini retirement from running. You are in a deep hole and time is the only thing to fill it.

Sometimes resting is harder than training harder. Be smart, my friend. 

I know this because I have experienced it first hand in 2011 and 2012. Because I am an idiot. It is not something to mess around with. 

Dealing with Post Race Depression

Most of the time when I tell people I’m a profesh track athlete, I get a blank stare where people attempt to comprehend what that even means. But every once and a while I get a knowledgeable track athlete that has been waiting for this moment. The moment where they can word vomit a whole slew of questions that they have carefully constructed at long runs and cool downs and post race parties. Questions they think that I, as a professional, have the secret answers to.

The most common question when I get bombarded by questions:

How do you cope after a bad race?

In honor of my epic blow at Mt. SAC relays, I thought I’d share:

How do professionals cope with a bad race?

We don’t. We quit.

Psych!

Here’s how the bad race usually plays out: Usually it starts way before the gun goes off. Like days before. It could be triggered by a bad practice, a not-feeling-so-go-for-whatever-reason couple of days, or nerves.

Or sometimes the bad race starts at the warm up. You don’t feel so hot and over analyze it, and BOOM, you are stuck in a negativity cloud waiting to demolish all dreams of a good race.

And sometimes, like for me that Friday, the bad race starts 100m in to the race.

I waltzed on that track like I would coast to a PR. Practices had been going great. My mileage is up. I was feeling good. And I had completely forgotten about the pain that accompanies the 1500m. I totally thought I would PR without pushing myself. I thought that because I am probably an idiot.

At 300m I came through in a pretty slow split and didn’t feel stellar. There is one thing you shouldn’t do when that happens: Hit the panic switch. So I hit the panic switch. If the 1^st 300m feel shitty, imagine how shitty the last 300m will feel! This is the kind of logic that leads you straight to the last place with your tail between your legs.

After a bad race, you enter what I call post-race depression. PRD is terrifying because:

A.     You feel like you aren’t worthy of being a human. I am not sure why for a short time after a race you define your entire identity as a number, but you do. Sometimes that number is 1.58 which is code for: YOU ARE TOTALLY BAD ASS! And sometimes it’s 4.22, which is code for: YOU DON’T EVEN DESERVE TO BE HERE!

B.     If you aren’t careful you can end up in the endless-bad-race-negativity-loop. 

 

 So the easiest way not to have a bad race: Don’t have a bad race. There, simple. But unfortunately, completely unrealistic.

Here are my steps in preventing the endless-bad-race-negativity-loop.

1.     Long cool down.

Cool down until your emotions subside. I use headphones so  people won’t talk to me. And sunglasses so people can’t tell I’m teary eyed. This is my time to be embarrassed and have some self-pity. But this is my only time to do so.

2.     Short term memory.

This is easier said than done. Don’t let your CD skip reliving the nightmare. It’s not going to change regardless of how many times you replay it. In fact. You will only feel worse about yourself.

3.     Go eat dinner with your team.

And get dessert. I, too, wanted to clam up in shame and embarrassment and punish myself by going to bed with no dinner and no socializing. This makes you feel sorry for yourself and makes you have a bad association with racing. Don’t do it.

4.     Joke about it.

Not all the time, maybe just once, and MAKE SURE it is in a light hearted kind of way, instead of an I’m-a-crappy-runner kind of way. Like I found the Flotrack gang and acted offended at why they didn’t want my interview!

5.     Sit down with coach and go over what you should potentially change for next time. Don’t dwell, just hit the major mistakes and possible means of improvement.

Remember, nothing is unfixable. So be pumped you have something to improve on.

And people only remember you by your best races, not your epic blow ups. I’m still a pretty damn good runner. And you probably are too, so remember those good times (literally).

Fake it til you make it

Packing your funeral dress for a potential funeral is a weird feeling. Am I being pessimistic? Am I doubting my dad? Needless to say, I buried it way deep in the suitcase in its own pocket so I wouldn’t have a visual reminder of the situation.

My dad has been struggling with G.I issues for a few months now.  The doctors don’t know why it flares up. I have a theory that it is stress related.

The issue is stress triggers G.I issues. G.I issues cause stress. Thus my dad was stuck in an endless stress loop cycle.

I flew home immediately. When I got to him, he was ridiculously close to death and ridiculously refusing to go to the hospital.

It’s like all his energy was focused on ending the pain, and the hopelessness was directing him to the path of least resistance: death. He kept saying, “I just can’t live like this.” I would reply, “You definitely can’t. Which is why you have to get healthy. Death is not the only option here.”

I am good at running because I can focus with such intensity that I feel like I am actively willing the future. I get this from my dad.

This can be great if your mind is fixated on running 1.57.

This can be a death sentence if your mind is fixated on dying.

I felt helpless, but decided the best thing I could do was to get him to focus on healing instead of dying.

Game plan:

1.     Get dad to quit saying “I want to die.”

2.     Make him laugh

3.     Help him believe he will get better.

This is when I came up with the idea (mostly for my own peace of mind) of making him say, “I will get healthy” every hour.

The conversation went a little something like this:

Hey, Dad, I think you should say “I will get healthy” every hour. It sounds stupid, I know. Look, I’ll do it with you. I’ll say, “I will run 1.57.”

Hey, Phe, that’s stupid. Do you not see how much pain I’m in? Your voice is making my stomach hurt. If I say it, will you shut up?

Yep!

Victory was mine!

The first few times my dad was not the least bit enthusiastic.

(eye roll) yes, I’ll get healthy. ..if  I don’t die first.

I immediately made him correct it to “yes I’ll get better”

His tone was still crappy.

I said, “I will run 1.57” confidently.

I literally called him or visited him every hour and made him say it on the top of the hour. Every hour. “I will get healthy” 

“Good! and I will run 1.57” I said.

He was snarky McSnark pants for the first 2 days.

Every time I saw him I was sure to point out why he looks better. I think deep down, he really appreciated it.

“Dad! You totally don’t look like a zombie after that blood transfusion!”

“Dad! Your mood is way better!”

“Dad! Your test came back not-worse! That’s so good! You’ve halted it!”

The morning of day 3 in the hospital something amazing happened. He called me just to talk and be normal. At the end of the conversation:

 “I will get healthy”

 “Yep. And I will run 1.57”

He finally got to the point to where my voice didn’t make his stomach hurt, and he became aware of other lesser problems! Which is totally a step in the right direction!

 “Phe. My body is withering away. I was doing that stair stepper all the time, and my butt was so firm, you could bounce a quarter off it. I’ve been looking at my butt in the mirror for the past hour and it’s not there! I have an oldman no butt”

“Phe, I think I look good thin. I’m going to keep the weight off but get all lean and muscley.”

“Phe, I think I’m addicted to milk. I think about it all the time. I crave it. I want it. I would drink 2 gallons a day if I could. I think this is what heroin addicts feel like. And I have to give up milk because I think it could be the cause of this disease.”

On day 5 of the “I will get healthy” experiment, he saw significant improvement! He is talking about the game plan as to how he will stay healthy. His main concern is mostly about how talking about digestion issues is really killing his game with the hot nurses.

Day 6, I fly back to Seattle. He has had a minor set back. I think it’s because he snuck and ate that package of Oreos. Like myself, he cannot be left unsupervised around food.

So today, he is doing OK. Not 100%  but definitely toward improvement. I continue to call him daily.

If you want to join in the fake-it-til-you-make-it experiment, feel free to feel stupid and state your goals out loud with my dad and me at the top of the hour. I’ll totally believe in you--even if you temporarily don’t believe in yourself, because it works.  

I will run 1.57. 

Side note Thank You:

Hospitals create Picky eaters! And Picky bars came to the rescue with some nom noms! Thank you for that Picky care package. Life savors, literally.

Is That Code for "Unemployed"?

Professional runners,

I know that being a profesh runner is hard, and I respect you for working your butt off and having loads of self-discipline and whatnot. Unfortunately, the employers of the big girl jobs do not. They think that “professional runner” is code for “unemployed.”

Employer: Oh. So you run? Like for a living? What do you train for? The Olympics? And you can do that?

Me: Yes. Yes. Races. Yes. Yes.

Employer: Huh. (This is when the employer envisions a life of a professional runner that lives at home in their parents basement who gets up and runs for fun every morning. Maybe a local Turkey Trot winner with some far fetched dream of the Olympics.)

Here’s how I put a spin on the 4 years I have been “unemployed”:

I am Phoebe Wright. I am a small business owner in sports marketing. My biggest client is Nike. I also work for Garden of Life and USATF.  Our target demographic is the running community.

The mission of my company is to connect with running communities to inspire healthy habits via exercise and diet. I want to inform and inspire people to train hard and reap health benefits. The more people get invested in themselves, the more they will invest in products that help themselves. Plus running gear is pretty cool. And I like shoes.

My main revenue comes from advertising space at national and international track events. This space is a 2 inch x 1 inch square located on the left shoulder of my skimpy racing singlet.

 My employees and myself determine the specific events at which we advertise. We take into account the cost, risk and reward of each said event.  

          For example:

          USATF Indoor Championships

          Travel expenses: $1,500

          Prize money:

             1^st- $5,000

             2^nd- $3500

             3^rd- $1250

             4^th-$750

        Pessimistic Projected finish: 3-5 with a chance of DQ

        Conclusion: Go for the experience.  

My employees:

Consultant (Coach Danny Mackey)

Physical Therapist (Real Rehab)

Massage Therapist (In Health)

Secretary/Financial Consultant (Agent Ray Flynn)

I also work with other sports marketers (my training partners) in a mutually beneficial relationship. We exchange ideas. We share travel expenses. We pull our resources together to advertise to a wider number of people. Plus, I wouldn’t talk to many people on a daily basis without them.

I get the business game. I know how to budget. I know how to assemble a team with a common goal. I know how to assess risk and reward. I know how to invest and predict how the investments will pay off. For example: weekly massages always pay off.

I get the marketing game.

The days of disgenuine-appeal-to-the-masses advertising is becoming obsolete. People are attracted to personality. Personality is polarizing. Some people will love you, some will hate you, but either way you are getting noticed.

I get the health industry.

Having a business centered around fitness and health, I have amassed a large knowledge base in exercise physiology, human psychology (coaching), biomechanics, nutrition, and massage. My advertising space is determined by my performance. Therefore I know what factors affect performance.

I get the international game.

I know how to travel. I can improvise when travel plans go awry. And they ALWAYS go awry.  I know how to interact with people from different cultures, meaning, if Charades were a sport, I’d be World Champ. I am literally a pro in finding the cheapest route from one place to the next.

I have to take sole responsibility for the company. At the end of every year, I run statistical analysis on the progress on my company and make any necessary changes to make sure I am getting the maximal amount of results. (I look back at race results and decide what worked and what didn’t).

Like most small businesses, job security is rare. Even if I do my absolute best, I still may lose my clientele. 

So employer of big-girl jobs, I have been very employed (168 hour weeks) over the past 4 years.