Mental warfare

They’ll talk about the day they clocked up seven hours on the bike and then followed it up with a 20km run. They’ll talk about sore muscles, tiredness and their dodgy IT band. But people training for IronMan don’t talk much about mental burnout. Those days when getting out of bed for a 6km run is simply just … too … hard.

As I approach race day, those just-too-hard-days are becoming more frequent. Physically, I doubt my training is suffering as I’m starting to taper anyway. But mentally I’m in a war zone, which is rapidly wearing away the energy stores I have left.

Listen to your body, says the angel at my table. You’re no IronMan, says her devil twin at the other.

You’re tired, you need to rest.

Pull yourself together and get out the door.

And so they argue, back and forth, until finally I give up. I eat two bowls of ice cream (two and a half), and settle in for a night of despondency on the couch. Later, I set my alarm for 5.30am and promise I’ll work hard and eat healthy tomorrow.

Do I feel at peace with my decision?

Not even close.

An article on the IronMan website “6 areas to flex your mental muscle” describes mental burn out as feeling unmotivated, irritable, angry, sad and bored (yes, yes, yes). Another tell tale sign is fantasising about quitting your sport (again, yes). And then the rather unhelpful advice: “The most effective approach is to prevent this from happening.”

Excellent, thanks IronMan.

I take note of some of the suggested strategies to combat mental burnout, largely, taking time off, reconnecting with goals and writing a list of why I love the sport. I’m also going to listen to my endurance sport friends who suggest sleep, prioritising rest over other duties or obligations and positive affirmations.

My plan starts now. I hereby promise to have an early night. I will leave work an hour early tomorrow so I can get to the pool before the lane becomes crowded with the faster, more aggressive after-work set. Instead of dwelling on how long the swim will take (all 130 lengths), I’m going to cruise through it in no great hurry. I’m going to enjoy the sensation of gliding through the water and use the time to remember why I fell in love with triathlon in the first place.

I also vow not to have ice cream for dinner. I’m going to drink more water and take my iron supplements. I’ve booked a sports massage and I have scheduled in a yoga session for the weekend. OK, yes I know the sloth-like pace of yoga makes me antsy, but I’m planning to use this time to mull over all the reasons why I want to finish an IronMan in two weeks’ time.

There are a lot of reasons, I’m sure. And I’ve already got the first one:

It’ll make me a stronger on the inside.

Road to recovery

According to people who know stuff, training plus recovery equals performance.

Those people might be pro triathletes or whatever, but in my stubbornness I thought I could do without one half of that equation.

For me, recovery after a race was a day of no exercise. Now that standard distance triathlons, trail races and half marathons are a regular feature of my calendar – in no great time I might add, I just do them for fun – the idea of recovery seemed even less relevant.

Contrary to my earlier ignorance, post-race eating is good.

Eating x amount of protein y minutes after a race seemed not only overly complicated, but counterproductive if I wasn’t hungry. Why have rehydration fluid when I could have a nice pot of soul-soothing (and unfortunately, diuretic) tea?

Foam rollers and stretches? Nope. Busy. Things to do, people to see.

Ice baths, compression gear, protein-shakes, a bit over the top isn’t it?

And the truth is, I kinda like feeling a bit broken the next day. Much like a finisher’s medal, sore muscles are a reminder of what I achieved the day before.

But I’ve done a complete 180, and it’s all because my coach is mean.

OK no, it’s all because I’m training for my first Ironman and I’m constantly training on tired muscles. When I have a half marathon or a triathlon lined up for a Sunday morning, my coach thinks: “Great! Do that! And on the Saturday before, I want you to smash yourself on the bike.” Awesome. Thanks coach.

And so when I finish that hard cycle, I’m now mindful that what I do in the next 18 hours is going to determine whether I enjoy or endure Sunday’s race.

So what is it the pros are doing exactly?

According to a Runner’s World article, training is all about straining our bodies to go longer or faster. We’re depleting our fuel sources and causing microscopic tears in our muscle tissue. Our body goes into a period of adaption where our stores are opened for maximum refuelling and our veins deliver white blood cells to repair the micro tears. Apparently, there’s a two-hour window after your race when this is occurring. If you wait until you’ve driven home, showered and called your mum, you may have missed your opportunity.

The article goes on to say: “It’s not in our workouts that we become better athletes, but in the time between them. Neglecting to take sufficient rest or to answer our depleted bodies’ needs not only limits our improvements, but can start a spiral of a very different sort.”

Noted. In order to go faster tomorrow, I need to stop today.

Rest is the easy part of recovery. This is time spent sleeping and not moving. Have a nap, resist the urge to babysit your beautiful niece. Read the paper instead.

Compression gear may just change your life.

Recovery is harder to implement: hydration, compression, nutrition, trigger-point release, heat, ice and even stress management.

There’s a tonne of science out there on optimising recovery. American coach, sports nutritionist and Ironman triathlete Ben Greenfield starts his Ironman recovery before his race even begins. And even he admits, it’s pretty complex (topical magnesium, amino acids, cold showers, etc).

For us non-competitive, average Jo types, I say do what you can. Ignoring recovery altogether is foolhardy. You’re only hurting yourself. Rehydrate, eat some good food, stretch, chill out.

Oh, and FYI, compression gear feels heavenly. After a hard workout, it’s more soul-soothing than tea. I promise.