Recovery: Not For the Weak of Heart

Last weekend was my test weekend. I went out for a long run, prepared to suffer. I started with a 5-mile warm-up and it felt awesome. In fact, it felt so good that when I decided to bump it up for the test portion, I took my pace down an entire minute... and it felt magical. If you are an athlete though, you know what happens when you try to take a full minute off of your goal pace... you know what happens when you even try to take 10 seconds off your goal pace!

Ash, you need to slow down.

I know, legs, but you feel so good! I could go for hours at this pace!

No, you can't. In fact, I'll bet you can't even finish thirty minutes at this pace.

I'll take that bet, legs! And I'll raise you! I used to hold this pace with no effort whatsoever!

Yeah, you used to have a tendon, then that car hit you.

Whatever. I got this. I am Iron Man.

Nope... I am not Iron Man. Less than 20 minutes into the test, my body started to give up on me. I swung my arms like a mad woman and urged my hips forward. Go, go, go! But my legs didn't go. In fact, they abruptly slowed and almost stopped completely.

I sucked down a Gu Roctane like there was no tomorrow. Pure pineapple goodness overwhelmed my taste buds. My eyes rolled back in sheer ecstasy and I was fairly confident I had never felt so good in my life, despite having just failed miserably.

The next morning, I cut my bike ride short. My swim test was a full two minutes slower than my base 2 test. I shook it off and figured I was just off that weekend.

But things didn't get better over the week.

I taught six Pilates classes, a yoga class and some functional strength and ski conditioning classes. That on top of my daily running, cycling and swimming. This was my first week in Build 1, but my paces were slower than my base week and my body felt fatigued.

NO! I will not be a Christmas Star!

Instead of letting my body rest, I pushed through the fatigue like an elephant pushing through tar. On Thursday, my body was dead, but I ran anyway. I jogged out to Matt's grave and took him a rock I had found at the beach with my friend Luke. Then I set a QOM on Strava and I was stoked. Unfortunately, later that night during Taco Thursday with Rebecca, I could feel my right hip seizing up.

The hip caused me to cut my ride short on Friday morning. On Saturday, the weather was perfect. I could not wait to go out for a long, beautiful run. Starting with a REALLY easy jog, I headed down the road. Only minutes later, I was trying hard not to succumb to walking. But it was over. My run was not going to happen. My hip was so tight that I could barely put weight on it. Limping home, I made cornbread and spent the rest of the evening watching the Olympics and eating cornbread (3/4's of the pan by myself) and chili with Finley.

Honestly, I felt like a failure, but deep inside, I knew I had made the right decision. As an athlete, it is so hard to believe that it is okay to rest, but it is. I would rather miss an entire weekend of CRUCIAL workouts than miss my actual race. So for now I am swallowing my pride, refusing to check my Strava stats and sitting on an ice pack until I can go see Jason and have him fix me.

Look at me! I've become a smart athlete! Maybe a losing athlete, but at least I'm smart... I hope.