Riding the Line
Trying to balance getting the most out of myself without burning out
I want to be as prepared as possible to efficiently cover the distance from start to finish when I line up for a big race.
Of course I’ve heard of overtraining, I think most ultrarunners have. If you’re trying to be competitive in running long distances, an inherent part of that is training long hours. The human body can adapt pretty well to the stress of running, but if you’re like me, the same curious part of you that wants to see what’s possible racing these long distances also wants to see what’s possible in training. The real problem comes when training outpaces recovery. Pushing as much as possible usually isn’t the best way to build long-term fitness. But riding the fine line between overtraining and my comfort zone makes me feel like I’m squeezing as much potential fitness out of myself as I can.
In order to find my line, I need to flirt with overstepping it occasionally. I don’t know the limits of what my body can handle until I’ve slightly overcooked myself, and the key is to quickly recognize the signs of overdoing it and then back off until everything sorts itself out. Through this periodic experimentation, I can get a feel for what my most productive, manageable training load is and then keep it in that range in future building phases without taking it too far again.
Since starting with a new coach, my training has shifted. With new workouts and structure, I’ve had to find my limits again—and over the past couple weeks, I might have overstepped them. Last week I did an interval workout. It was my third in a series of increasingly longer interval workouts, so you’d think I’d have sorted out the kinks by this point and dialed in pacing, etc. But as I started the first interval, my legs felt heavy. I felt like I was working harder than in previous weeks, but maybe going slower? I’m probably just shaking off the rust, flushing out the legs after a big weekend… The second rep didn’t feel better. I pushed through all seven of the reps I had planned and was truly wiped out by the end. After mentioning these feelings to my coach, Jack, when he asked how the workout had gone, we got into a conversation about overtraining.
Jack sent over an article that included some symptoms of overtraining. There were all these little things that, in isolation, I hadn’t thought much of. But seeing these signs of pushing it too far laid out in neat little bullet points, I realized that I could identify with a handful of them. Nothing too serious, nothing that made me feel like I’d doomed myself to months of rest, just some early warning signs that it was time to let the body recover. A few of the main symptoms I’d noticed were:
Having a hard time sleeping through the night. I’d been occasionally waking up abnormally early and not falling back asleep.
Decreased appetite. During this level of training, I should be constantly hungry. Why was nothing really sounding very good? I felt like I was force-feeding sometimes.
Higher perceived effort. The original sign that Jack caught after that tough interval workout.
The next day after my conversation with Jack, I took my first full rest day in recent memory. It’s gotten to the point where it feels so weird and wrong to just wake up and shower without some type of activity in between. We made little tweaks to dial back a couple workouts and long runs, and kept an eye on how things were feeling each day. After a few days of careful monitoring, I could feel the spring returning to my stride. The regular appetite was back, and I was sleeping better. This week my interval workout went much more smoothly.
Everyone is different. There are countless variables to consider when deciding the quantity and style of training that might work best for you. Ultimately some trial and error is required, along with patience and a willingness to adjust as your body responds to that training. The main learning here for me is that it can be very valuable to have someone knowledgeable looking out for you—a coach, training partner, close friend—someone with a different perspective who can see the little signs you might miss when you’re in the trenches of training.