Two hour-long spin sessions, executed during the recovery phase of my ‘A’ race of the year, Saturday, left me weary, light-headed and deep in atrial fibrillation. What I really needed was a catnap in the sunshine on the deck, but all I got was DOMS. Delayed Onset of Muscular Soreness. This has been happening with regularity. It is no longer the day after a hard effort or race, it is TWO. And this presents a few challenges.
The first challenge is, of course, making the necessary changes to accommodate the latest data. There is the classic story of an age group Ironman World Champion, for several years running, that, upon completion of another record setting IM, would immediately take off on a ‘leisurely’ 5K run. This, he explained to me in an interview in Kona one year, is designed to immediately counter the ravaging effects of a 140 mile race, in the heat and against world class competition. It was, in his opinion and practice to loosen up the mitochondria and cellular damage that comes with sustained long distance intensities, which is, of course, the very definition of racing an Ironman. In other words, this practice, seemingly an oxymoron of staggering proportions, allowed him to return to his regular training regime as early as the next day. I always marveled at his discipline, as sometime regularly taking an entire week off after an Ironman to allow for proper cellular rejuvenation and return to muscular homeostasis. I can remember being barely able to walk after several IMs where it was necessary, in my mind, to push past pain in order to accomplish the race objective (which was for almost a decade to qualify for Kona).
The second challenge then becomes to re-establish training structure that embraces this change rather than ignores or dismisses it. As many times on Sunday that I considered a recovery run in the park to actively encourage cell repair, I spent the afternoon in the more mundane affairs of cleaning gear, washing bikes and doing laundry. Come Monday morning at 0530 I was back in the saddle spinning up some obnoxious high-intensity intervals and watching the heads-up display on the Kaiser M3 indicate that my heart rate was dangerously irregular. And then we did it again at 0845. There should be a Lifeguard on duty!
By the time I got home from the second class I was cooked. And, to tell the truth, a little concerned. I really felt bad, chest pain, shortness of breath and what the medical community is now calling body fever. I needed a nap, some water and a bowl of protein. None of which was forthcoming as my neighbor visited innocently wanting only a race report and a hug.
While she was visiting she asked about any physical repercussions I might be experiencing. Well, yeah, there are a couple I whined, I have DOMS and pretty sure I am still in A-Fib. She likes to use my stethoscope and asked if she could take a listen, this I believe to have the experience of diagnosis so to act as first responder should her husband show similar symptoms.
Later, as we sat in the sunshine, welcoming the third member of our group back from a horse show in Bend, sipping summer ale and recapping our respective adventures from the week, we got to the subject of my DOMSAFIB.
How did his heart sound in the scope?
Really weird.
You were expecting normal? I jokingly add.
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