Post-Race Recover-ehhhh

From the moment training begins through the final steps of an exhausting race, the mind relies on a vivid dream of what the finish could feel like.  It's a powerful amalgamation of accomplishment, the strong sensations surrounding the end of the journey, and overwhelming joy.  The feeling never gets old and only grows with how hard you're willing to push.

But when the fanfare dies down and the vision has been realized, endurance competitors are greeted by another uphill battle.  Ironically, it's fight that you can't train for, despite having spent more time than not doing exactly that.  All you want to do is rest, though as the post-race hours turn to days, I've found that it's more common to be restless.

Recovery, like nutrition or training, is an important part of the athletic wheel, albeit a little more unpredictable than the day-to-day grind of the others.  Your body has been pushed to, and likely past, its limits.  Some serious R&R certainly goes a long way toward making things right, but multi-layered exhaustion is a complex issue.  It's a muscular, mental, and central nervous system repair - where do you start?

I've found that in the two weeks following a Half Ironman, the recovery and resulting frustration mimic the impatience in the taper leading up to the race.  Everyone heals differently and each race takes a unique toll on the body, leaving a new path back to normality.

In the past, my philosophy has been more "no rest for the wicked" than "listen to your body".  I enjoy training because of the variety and the ability to rest while hammering away on another muscle group or activity.  When it's all sore, nothing feels right and a self-imposed stress of losing fitness starts to infiltrate physical confidence.

The best visual I can give is something right out of a TV show or cartoon where the characters get transported to a white screen outside of space and time.  You're floating outside of a training plan or race goal without the light at the end of the tunnel you've been chasing for months.  It's an awkward and anxiety-ridden feeling.

The first week was equal parts celebration and optimistic planning.  The mind was the first to heal and nearly led me to enter the field for IronMan 70.3 Wilmington in late October.  As I jumped into the pool and got on the bike for recovery, my body was thankful I didn't commit.  It would be a full twelve days until I felt physically strong enough to tackle a normal lift.

As I got back into my training cadence at the end of the second week, the most important part was still missing.  The fire and intensity it takes to power through a training plan was notably absent and the last to return.  Even in the first long run back, I plodded painfully through 12 miles.

Getting back on track after a race is the unofficial last leg of the competition.  It requires patience, attention to detail, and the ability to suppress the ever-present urge to train.  With recovery finally out of the way, I've got eyes on a Spartan Beast and the Philadelphia Half-Marathon.  We are back.