There’s that universal non-runner reaction that you get when
you tell someone that you started off your day with a 6 mile run: “The only
reason I would run 6 miles is if a bear was chasing me.” Or, sometimes they are
less polite and simply ask, “What was chasing you?” From one vantage point, training for
endurance events is aimless or on the borderline of crazy. From another, it is
a saving grace, a sense of normalcy, a constant. Sometimes it’s less poetic,
and our reason for sweating for an hour or more is simply to make some room on
our dinner plate. No matter the reason (and we all have our own), training has
a special place in our lives.
Endurance
athletes are a unique group of people who share the same challenges of smashing
PR’s, avoiding injury, and carving time out of every day to train. Most of us
realize that although this lifestyle is built on the principle of staying
healthy and fit, there are aspects of it that are clearly unhealthy. Recently I
read about the “endurance athlete cycle”, which went something like this:
train, injury, rehab. At first, I was angered at this simplification of the
form of training that I love the most. But as I kept reading and pondering, I
realized that this describes my training life perfectly. Oops.
What are the
reasons for this cycle? The list is extensive, but it centers around Type A
personality, improper training technique, and (most surprising) overtraining.
My eyes began to resist reading any further. It hurts to agree with an article
bashing something that you love so deeply. Training high volumes is only
healthy for those who can handle it, i.e. professional and elite athletes.
These lucky people have the right combination of genes that allows them to
handle more than us mortals. For those of us who are less fortunate, trying to
train enough to crest our potential usually results in musculoskeletal injury.
There is an
important distinction between exercise and training. Exercise is purposeful
movement with the goal of improving health. Training is purposeful exercise
with the goal of improving performance. Honestly, most of us would be better
off with the former rather than the latter.
Most of us wear our training hours like a badge of honor, but past a
certain point, more is not better. I hate to expound upon the personality
argument, but people like us think more is better in all situations. We race
through grocery stores or to class. We’ll take any opportunity to make a
competition out of everyday life, and strive to be the best if it seems within
our realm. Training is sort of like following the directions on a medicine
bottle. Take too little at the wrong time, and a less than desirable effect
will follow. Take too much, and you’re in trouble. Unfortunately, people don’t
come with labels, but we all have a level of training that our bodies respond
the best to. How do you find that level, you ask? Well, as you may have
guessed, the only way to really know is to get dangerously close to that
threshold—which is like trying to walk a tight rope across the Great Divide. As
someone who has been down Overtraining Road more than a few times, I know that
you are aware when you get close to the edge. Doing something about it,
however, is a whole other story.
So, then, what is
the reason for the endurance athlete cycle? Although the answer is complicated
(as stated above), I can answer it in one, simple, word: Love.
Love for the
people that we sweat with. Love for that feeling you get when you cross a
finish line and receive a “you did it” hug. Love for the sight of the sun
rising over a morning run. Love for gossiping across the handlebars and
laughing at stupid jokes after riding for too long. Love for the camaraderie
that we share.
No matter the
reason, training is a light in all of our lives. It’s kind of like a faithful
dog, always sitting there with you as it’s only attention. All of the other
reasons aside, the most comforting thing about training is that it is always
there.
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