Level.
It was bound to happen.
Eventually the Training Peaks Squiggly lines would slow their steady rise and find some sort of equilibrium, as my body recovered and adapted to the training stresses I was subjecting it to. Eventually things would kind of even out and become the "new normal". That's good and bad.
It's good because it indicates I'm pretty much back to "normal". Sure my focus is different this year (sustained efforts over repeated sprint-recovery), but the training load is back to where it normally is. Recovery from injury always includes an element of uncertainty, as you wonder if you'll ever get back to where you were before everything went sideways. For me, more often than not the answer is no. I may get back to pretty much where I was, but "peak performance" is more of a relative thing now. Compared to where I was four months ago, after I slammed into the pavement, I'm spinning them up pretty durn good. Compared to where I was four years ago at the Tour of Fairbanks? Not as much. The numbers don't come close to matching. Still, I'm at the point where I'm happy to be more or less where I have been historically during a "normal" year.
It's bad because that steady progress ending indicates all of the low hanging fruit has been picked. From now on, I'm going to have to work harder and harder to get the same squiggly line trend. That means more sweat and aching. More chewing on my jersey's collar to block out the steady lactic acid burn for a few more minutes. Play time is over, and now the work begins.
At the same time, I have to start dropping the weight I gained in the interim. It's scary how quickly it appeared, and how it doesn't want to go away. Making it go away is the fine line between not eating so much while still fueling the ever-increasing difficulty of my efforts.
It's just going to suck.
Well, that's part of the deal if you want to play. You embrace it, make friends with it if you can, but you can't make the suck go away unless you're content with letting the term "suck" apply to you. One way or another, the suck always wins.
Eventually the Training Peaks Squiggly lines would slow their steady rise and find some sort of equilibrium, as my body recovered and adapted to the training stresses I was subjecting it to. Eventually things would kind of even out and become the "new normal". That's good and bad.
It's good because it indicates I'm pretty much back to "normal". Sure my focus is different this year (sustained efforts over repeated sprint-recovery), but the training load is back to where it normally is. Recovery from injury always includes an element of uncertainty, as you wonder if you'll ever get back to where you were before everything went sideways. For me, more often than not the answer is no. I may get back to pretty much where I was, but "peak performance" is more of a relative thing now. Compared to where I was four months ago, after I slammed into the pavement, I'm spinning them up pretty durn good. Compared to where I was four years ago at the Tour of Fairbanks? Not as much. The numbers don't come close to matching. Still, I'm at the point where I'm happy to be more or less where I have been historically during a "normal" year.
It's bad because that steady progress ending indicates all of the low hanging fruit has been picked. From now on, I'm going to have to work harder and harder to get the same squiggly line trend. That means more sweat and aching. More chewing on my jersey's collar to block out the steady lactic acid burn for a few more minutes. Play time is over, and now the work begins.
At the same time, I have to start dropping the weight I gained in the interim. It's scary how quickly it appeared, and how it doesn't want to go away. Making it go away is the fine line between not eating so much while still fueling the ever-increasing difficulty of my efforts.
It's just going to suck.
Well, that's part of the deal if you want to play. You embrace it, make friends with it if you can, but you can't make the suck go away unless you're content with letting the term "suck" apply to you. One way or another, the suck always wins.
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