Since my last race, the fabulously successful Fanconi 5k, I've had 4 weeks of killer training.
For those 4 weeks, I averaged over 85 miles a week, and ran a string of (for me) unprecedented workouts, culminating with a hilly 20 mile run at an average 6:45 pace. I was on such a roll I was starting to scare myself.
Unfortunately, the calendar shows FIVE weeks, not four, between the Fanconi 5k and the Shamrock 5k.
And that fifth week, this past week, well, it wasn't pretty.
I knew that 4 week block would be the most intense block of training for this cycle. I knew I would have some serious miles and stress in my legs by the end of it. I also knew there was a distinct possibility that I would have to dial it back a bit towards the end, but I figured if I made it through to that fifth week, the cutback week, I'd be fine.
So when I ended those 4 weeks on the high note of that crazy 20 miler, I thought I was golden. I started entertaining the idea of a 5k pr, even though it was the Shamrock Run, my nemesis 5k. A 5k pr at age 38, I could practically taste how good that would feel.
So. What the hell happened? How did I find myself with flat legs from the gun? Why was I in head down survival mode by 8 minutes in? Why did I cross the finish line in about 18 minutes flat, some 30 seconds slower than I knew I could run?
Well, it wasn't the race itself, and for once I'm not blaming a mental lapse. I knew my legs were heavy, but in the spirit of blind optimism, I went out at the pace I should be running anyway, because you never know, right? Legs can loosen up, sometimes things aren't as bad as they seem, etc etc. I put myself right where I needed to be through the first mile, and tried gamely to hang on.
But by 1.5 miles, the two women I should have been competing with (2nd and 3rd place, since the race leader was long gone) had put a sizable gap on me and it was yawning wider by the step. The voices in my head knew by then that they would win this round, however, by replacing the spirit of blind optimism with an angry stubbornness, I kept them partially at bay and rallied to at least hold my position in 4th place, because damn it all to hell if I wasn't at least going home with a Shamrock backpack!
Lest I make this sound too much like a complete mystery, let's return to that 5th week of training.
What should have been a giveaway week (one workout midweek, 25% reduction in mileage overall) turned into a physical and mental wrecking ball. That one mid-week workout? Didn't finish it. The last time I had to cut a workout short? It's been so long I can't even remember. I'm a steady-as-she-goes type of trainer. I don't do anything crazy, I just show up and do what I need to do. Consistency is key. So pulling out of a workout was tough. Don't get me wrong, it was 100% the right thing to do at the time. The truth is, I hadn't been taking care of myself the first half of the week. I wasn't recovered, and so there was no point in pushing through the workout. It was smart to pull out.
Unfortunately, it wasn't enough. Despite the reduced mileage over the next 3 days, I had no zip in my legs. Typically, when I throw a cutback week in the middle of high mileage training, I'm bouncing off the walls by the end of it. Far from that this time.
Looked at through that lens, I guess the bad race was to be expected. Doesn't make it any easier, though. In one week I went from feeling invincible, with no doubt that I was super fit, to carrying around my wounded ego in a tiny padded box. Confidence? What confidence?
Now, before you say it, I KNOW that one bad week is not the end of the world. I also know that the training plan I already have in place for the next 4 weeks will most likely be perfectly fine to get me back to where I need to be, and I know that as long as I take care of myself, everything will be just fine.
But that doesn't mean it won't be a huge relief when I can actually feel it in my legs.
Then it will be time to fluff up the confidence and move on.
Oh, and you know what? Now I'm just going to have to set that 5k pr at age 39. Take that, Shamrock.
