Time for Retraining

The thought occurred to me the other day while going through my normal gyrations of self-analysis in my mind that the problems with my lack of motivation to run were probably not just mental. I had assumed the mental aspect applied due to the past many months of struggling with anxiety and depression, but I didn't seriously think there could be another component to it all.

While reading through blogs, articles and the like, and watching some great YouTube videos, I noticed just how many other runners were having similar issues. Some had opted to adopt the age old "tough it out" approach, while others decided that maybe it was time to put their running shoes away and move on to other interests, many more fell somewhere in the middle. Most seem to be grasping at straws. I've got my own collection of straws I've grasped onto.

After running well through difficult conditions at Black Canyon 100k in February, my year took a nose dive. Truth be told, I am now certain that it was already taking a nose dive and my performance at Black Canyon could have actually been much better. Earlier, in 2014, I had a very disappointing showing at the Bear 100 in Utah and ended up cranking out an amazing 10 miles before dropping at the first aid station due to calf strain. Following that, I experienced a death in the family of a particularly close aunt – I took that particularly rough. At the same time, I was having personal issues with friends I had thought I could trust, who were proving otherwise. And the icing on the cake? My daughter fell from a bunk bed and cracked her skull, landing her in the hospital and then on a 3 month regimen of various doctors visits and activity restrictions.

You might be looking at this list thinking, "Yeah, Marc, that's life." And maybe most people would have dealt with it much better than I did, but all of this drama was slowly taking its toll on me. Just when I felt like I couldn't take any more stress, something else would happen and the stress would increase. Running was my only outlet, and I had decreased my running volume due to the injury in September. Truthfully, I also wasn't getting the old reliable "runners high" that I used to experience on or after my runs. Something was really off.

I noticed a trend in my own experience with running that seemed to align me more with the classic symptoms of burnout than simply a lack of motivation due to depression/anxiety. There seemed to be a medical link to what I was experiencing than just the mental component. I'm not a doctor, and I have no medical training (not even First Aid certified), but even I could see that there was something else involved.

In my own research, I went back to on of my favorite sources, Dr. Phil Maffetone, for answers. What I found was a newly designed site (or, I just haven't been there in a long time...) with an excellent article on overtraining syndrome. I read the whole article and realized that I had been experiencing symptoms of overtraining for the past year. I don't have the luxury of being able to talk to Dr. Maffetone directly, so some of this is self-evaluation, but some of the symptoms were at the root of many of my doctors visits over the past year. Nothing linked them all together until I came across this article; it was both a relief and a jolt into reality.

My self-evaluation has led me to believe that I am likely either on the verge of being in Stage 3 overtraining, or that I'm deep in stage 3 territory. With the exception of the women-specific symptoms, obviously, I have all of the symptoms of Stage 1, almost all of the symptoms of Stage 2, and definitely some of the Stage 3 symptoms. NOTE: I don't have the means to test my cortisol levels at home, but that is currently being done in a lab somewhere out east, I believe.

At this point, I'm at a fork in the road. I can either continue on, pushing myself through injury, lack of motivation, etc. (the "toughing it out" approach), OR I can take the more conservative approach and begin retraining. After weighing the pros and cons of both approaches, I decided that running (and physical activity as a whole) is too important to me to gamble with possibly hurting myself even further. Besides, the "toughing it out" approach doesn't seem to be working for me.

So, it's back to the drawing board for me. I need to re-evaluate my goals and my training. I need rest. I need change. Until I get some specific answers about my self-evaluation (some are forthcoming from medical professionals, while others I can do on my own) I will be following Dr. Phil Maffetone's suggestions:

• Decrease training time 50 to 70 percent, or more if necessary.
• Immediately cease all anaerobic training and competition.
• A helpful remedy for an overtrained athlete is walking, which can gently stimulate circulation and aerobic muscle fiber activity, and offers mental benefits much like those of meditation. Walking also helps redevelop the aerobic system—the first phase of retraining.
• Retraining, that is, building the aerobic base, should last three to six months and does not include any anaerobic training or competition.

Of course, exercise is important, but it isn't complete without a dietary compliment. I'm still trying to figure out what that needs to be. I have on my list to check my carbohydrate tolerance with Dr. Maffetone's Two-week Test, but that's two weeks of no carbs... I'm not sure if I can manage that. The important thing for me to remember with this is that it's not a "diet", it's a test. Two weeks of no carbs to see how the body responds. But it's  two weeks of no carbs... ugh.

For now, I will be running, but running slowly. I'll be doing my best to keep my HR below ~135 bpm. There will be plenty of walking involved. But if I can see improvement and increase my aerobic capacity, it will be worth it.

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Useful Links:

• Dr. Phil Maffetone
• Two-week Test
• The MAF Method - Really, this is the place to start.
• The Sock Doc on overtraining
• Two-week test

Kicked in the groin by the running gods

It seems that the running gods have it out for me this year. After a lackluster beginning to the year, and my attempt at running 2015 miles in 2015, I bounced back for a few weeks and had a decent run at Black Canyon Trail 100k in February. I figured that was a good sign and that I was on my way into a strong, successful few months of training before taking on San Diego 100. The running gods must have known this and, when I was least expecting it, kicked me straight in the groin.

Now I should emphasize that it wasn't a sudden infliction of pain while performing some Killian-esque descent down a scree field ahead of a raging lava flow. Instead, it came about gradually while I cranked out an amazing couple of 30-35 mile weeks. This week was supposed to be my week to resume 50-60 miles, complete with hill training and speed work at the track. Instead, I came home from work on Monday with food poisoning and spent the afternoon and evening in bed.

For my Tuesday run, I thought I would join the Arizona Night Runners group on the Maricopa Trail for 9-10 miles (to make up for Monday). After just 1 mile, I had mild discomfort in the groin on the right and it just kept getting worse. After 2 miles the pain was getting more severe and I was altering my gait in an effort to avoid the pain. I hit 3 miles and was almost limping down the trail. That's when I decided to turn around and call it for the night, knowing that I would end with only 6 miles. By the time I got back to my truck, I was almost in tears from the pain.

Wednesday night is the Thunderbird Trail Runners/Sole Sports group run, which I hate to miss. I decided I would show up early for the pre-run for a few easy miles and then play the later run by ear. Cory met me at the trailhead and we got started. I was feeling good up the first climb, but after we hit
0.5 miles into the run the pain started coming back. Pulling my leg forward and rotating my right foot inward was very uncomfortable. I made it to the top of the peak and started back down, which proved to be worse. After the mile mark, I was wincing and grunting in pain again. I walked back to the truck and got in -- again, almost in tears from the pain.

So, here I sit in front of the computer after talking to my PT and hours of self-diagnosing with the help of WebMD, MayoClinic, Livestrong, and various other resources. I've concluded that I either have either groin strain (likely of the pectineus muscle), endometriosis, gonorrhea, testicular cancer, or I'm pregnant. I'm going with groin strain. There are all sorts of stories of people recovering relatively quickly (2 weeks) to chronic groin pain lasting 6 months or longer. I'm praying for the 2 weeks prognosis.

I've also taken to looking up therapy and treatment options. Yes, my wife thinks I'm crazy and can't understand why I'm not rushing in to see the doctor, but I think any guy in this situation would sympathize with my plight. So, Ibuprofen, foam rolling, ice, TENS, and rest are on my list... still not sure about the TENS, but I did rule out the thigh master.

Perhaps the hardest part of dealing with injuries is the downtime I have to take and the feeling of disappointment and anxiety that builds, while my training suffers and my races approach. I might be walking SD100. Wish me well.

Black Canyon 100k

It seems that the more ultras I participate in, the less I stress about doing them. I guess that's the natural progression of things, right? I didn't decide to participate in the Black Canyon 100k until a few weeks before the race, and the last race I ran was Bear 100 (where I ran 10 miles to my first 100 mile DNF). After my DNF at Bear 100, I took my training down to about 20%. From October through December my weekly mileage was at maintenance levels only. I put on weight (10 lbs) and was definitely running slower.

I hadn't completely stopped running, so I decided I just needed to increase my weekly mileage to 50-60 miles per week for a few weeks before the race. I only managed a few weeks at my normal volume, but I felt like things were coming back quickly and I was feeling good. As far as goals were concerned, I had never run 100k before, so I really didn't have a goal time to shoot for. Last year, I crewed and paced my friend Greg to a 13:53 finish and we both agreed that we would both be faster than he was last year. I decided to just run my race and let the time be what it was going to be.

The morning started off cool (for Arizona) with temperatures in the low-40's. The race check-in was held in the Mayer School gymnasium this year, so it was a lot more pleasant than last year when we were all hanging around outside, shivering until the gun went off. This race provided a last chance entry into the 2015 Western States 100, so there were a lot of high profile, elite runners on the scene. It was pretty cool to see Hal Koerner and Kaci Lickteig (among others) at the start of a local race.

A few minutes before the start, we all made our way out to the track and lined up in the crowd. I've learned over the last many races to line up somewhere just ahead of the middle in order to avoid trying to beat the conga line to the single track. It really wasn't necessary at this race as the race begins with a lap around the school track and then follows the town road out to the Black Canyon Trail single track. The atmosphere was pretty relaxed right from the start and a few of us got to do a lap with Hal before he hit the road and vanished.

Greg and I took off at a nice, maintainable pace around the track and to the trailhead. Soon after reaching the trailhead, Greg and I had caught up to the lead female pack. Running in the group with Kaci Lickteig, Leslie Howlett, Katie Desplinter, and a couple others would (and perhaps should) normally be a warning sign. There are just certain people who, if I catch up to, should be my warning sign that I'm going out too hard. The pace really felt good though. The trail was very runnable and it was easy to settle into a moderate pace and cruise.

That morning, I had a standard pre-race breakfast of oatmeal and a banana. The drive to the start was about 45 min, so I took the time to hydrate. The problem was that the food wasn't moving through my stomach, and my gut was uncomfortable aside from my digestion problems. Before the first aid station I was already wishing I had access to a bathroom, but not seeing one, I kept pressing forward. I was ahead of the lead pack of women at this point and kept the pace up through the next section.

The sun had broken the horizon and these Arizona hills were spectacular. The temperature was perfect, but it was easy to tell that it was going to heat up significantly before the end of the day. I was making sure to drink so I didn't fall behind on hydration, but I couldn't eat anything. My stomach still felt full -- nothing was moving.

I came into the next aid station well ahead of my projected pace but the pace still felt good. I swapped bottles, put on some sunscreen and turned around to head out when I saw a PORTAJOHN! SWEET! I'm saved! I'll spare you the gruesome details, but let's just say I did my best to recreate the bathroom scene from Dumb and Dumber. By the time I finished up, the lead pack of females, and Greg had passed me and left me a minute behind. I immediately started off down the trail to make up lost ground.

It didn't take too long before I found myself running behind Leslie Howlett and Katie Desplinter again. I wasn't going to pass them. The single track wouldn't let me, and the pace was excellent. We ran in a slowly expanding group, with Kaci taking off ahead, all the way to the next aid station. I still wasn't eating, and after my crew took care of me at the aid station and reminded me to eat, I decided I would have to get some calories into my system before the next aid station.

Greg and I started running closer together and started the climb out of Beaver Mines aid. The thought of eating something was enough to make me nauseous. "I'll give it more time," I thought to myself. Besides, I'm still taking in calories in my Tailwind. I was starting to slow down on the hills a little, and was feeling a little sluggish where I felt like I should have been jogging uphill. Walking was a nice break though, and Greg seemed to be going at the same pace. Besides, it was nice to have the company.

Greg and I maintained a pretty regular pace through the next two aid stations. It was nice just being out on the single track running with my friend and not worrying too much about the "race" aspect of the experience. During the segment before Black Canyon I somehow lost Greg. He normally passes me with reckless abandon on the downhill, so when we hit a nice long section of downhill on a Jeep road I figured I had better hit it hard just to keep up with him. I should mention here that I often find myself talking to no one but myself on these races. It doesn't start out that way, but apparently when I'm running and talking, that's about all I can focus on. I ran to the bottom of the hill, talking to Greg the whole way. When I got to the bottom, Greg was missing. I turned and looked up the hill, but didn't see Greg anywhere. After walking for a bit to give him time to catch me, but not seeing him, I decided to resume my own run and head to Black Canyon.

The weather on the course was starting to heat up and I was slowing down in response. The river crossing before Black Canyon City was exactly what the doctor ordered and I spent some time wetting my clothes down and dipping my hat into the cool water. I was trying to keep up to a female runner who had gotten turned around on the course, but she jogged up the next hill pretty easily (it seemed) while I resorted to a power hike/slow jog combination and she was soon out of sight.

I the out-and-back to Black Canyon City aid station is an interesting section of trail. It was on that segment when I got to see all the runners who had passed me and how strong they were running. The girl who had left me far behind on that hill was on her way out of the out-and-back well before I got anywhere near the aid station. The stop at Black Canyon felt long overdue. I had my crew and wife and kids at the aid station to help. Ice water was poured on my head and I was able to get some Coke and some PB&J sandwich squares into my system. It was now after 2:00 PM, I still had not been able to eat anything and I was definitely feeling it.

I picked up my pacer, Devin Barry, at this stop and warned him right from the start that my energy was plummeting but that I planned on pushing through. We hiked up the out-and-back section and made it down to the river in good time. This would be one of the last crossings of the race, so I again wet my gear down and started up the long climb. The climb was brutal. I was definitely in the pain cave at this point. My energy was extremely low and I still couldn't get more food down. I kept the Tailwind flowing, but it wasn't getting me enough calories. At one point I think I told Devin that I wanted to find a nice shady area to lay down and nap. That's one thing about running in Arizona -- there's practically nowhere to lay down and nap in the desert. You'll either get stung, bitten, or poked. And there are no nice grassy meadows. The only option is to keep on moving.

Devin and I hiked/jogged all the way to the next aid station (the Zane Grey aid station) where I quickly grabbed another seat and started working on getting more calories into my system. I'm not sure how long I spent at the aid station, but I'm sure it was too long. That folding camp chair started feeling really comfortable...

I finally got some energy back and could feel it slowly increasing as I went. I was able to move a little faster on my way to Table Mesa and made it my goal to get there and back out on the trail before sunset. Devin and I talked about races we'd done, the races coming up, Cardinals trade decisions, hunting, and a whole lot of other subjects that really helped to keep my mind off the pain. We did manage to jog more than walk and I got into the next aid station where I picked up Deron, my headlamp and headed back out onto the trail -- well before the sun went down.

The trail on the last section of the race quickly turned into the typical Phoenix area trail -- rocky and rough. Fortunately, this is what I usually run on so it wasn't that much of a shocker for me. As painful as it was, I was still able to move pretty well. I'll be the first one to admit there was a fair amount of walking involved, but we had a good pace to get me to the finish around the 13:30 mark. Deron and I are so closely matched in our running ability that it gave us a lot of races and runs to reminisce about as we made our way through the dark on the rocky trail. We were passing runners, mostly back of the pack 50k runners, but there were a few 100k runners in the list as well.

My daughter Kassi had been training with me on some of my runs leading up to Black Canyon. She would rid her bike and then join me on a short run on a loop back to her bike. Deron ran off ahead of me and met Kassi and Scott at the finish where they both ran back out to meet me and run across the finish with me. It was so awesome to see Kassi and Scott's excitement to be a part of the race. Running across the line with my kids somehow managed to make me forget all about the pain I had been pushing through for the last many miles.

I managed a 13:34:55 finish. I know that with better conditions (lack of GI issues, better fuel management, etc), I could have managed a sub-12 hour finish. I might have to try that next year. I ran the race with my Altra Superior 2.0 shoes, Injinji heavy socks, North Face shorts, Brooks Thunderbird Trail Runner tech shirt, Western States 100 Buff, Garmin Fenix 2, Headsweats iRun hat, and Inov-8 RaceUltra hydration vest. I used Tailwind Nutrition for my whole race (supplemented with Coke and PB&J sandwiches).