Thursday, September 29, 2005

Doing the Thorazine Shuffle:

(This post is not meant to be taken seriously, of course...)

Greetings, my friends! I have recently been committed to the state mental hospital for my own good, to prevent myself from sabotaging my own speedskating career.

It's so nice in here; the padding on the walls of my room make me feel like I never really left the Oval. Of course, some things about this place make it a challenge to keep up my training.

The straitjacket makes it kind of hard to swing my arms, and everything feels anaerobic with this duct tape over my mouth. They won't give me my blades for the moment, but I hope to get them back soon.

I should be a bit more snappy once this Thorazine wears off...

Monday, September 26, 2005

What's Next? Looking Forward to my Next Experiment:

Now that I'm on my own, you might wonder what my plans are. In preparing for this Olympic season, I now plan to write my own training program based on what I've found has worked for me in the past. Rex Albertson is going to be on board as my advisor.

Based on what happened in August and September, and how I feel in training right now, we are proceeding as if to get me to recover from the "O" word. Though the fall world cup trials are coming up soon, we have decided to throw in more rest for me right now, to make sure that I can get back to a normal physical level in time for the racing season.

I think that many speedskaters train too much in the Olympic season. My theory is that in this season it is better to err on the side of caution in terms of training load.

As far as my conflict with my previous team, I can see that the main issue is the question of whether I actually got physically tired during the August training cycle, or whether an episode of depression came up and caused me to fail in my training. Maybe when things settle down, I'll write more on this topic; probably not until after this season is over. Right now, the only thing I can do is to move forward.

Trying to convince some people of the reality of my physical tiredness seemed an impossible task. I felt like one of those people who goes around trying to convince others that they have been abducted by aliens! I don't know if there is anything I can do from this point forward to prove that this wasn't a mental breakdown, so I will just proceed with my training plans and do my best.

I know that I can be a very difficult athlete to coach. In my athletic life, I've had two cross country coaches and I-don't-know-how-many speedskating coaches tell me that I'm "too smart to be an athlete."

There is no doubt that someone who doesn't necessarily accept everything they are told and goes out to find answers on their own can be a challenge and a frustration to a coach. But I guess the last question that remains for me is not whether I can work with a coach, but whether I can succeed as an athlete at all. Having the opportunity to finish out my speedskating career completely under my own control is the only way I can answer this question. Despite the circumstances, I suppose I am grateful for this chance after all.

Sunday, September 25, 2005

The Story that High 5 Forgot:

I'd call this post a "fable," but that wouldn't be entirely accurate, because the story is true.

Before the 2002 Olympics, as US Speedskating was in the process of designing their training programs, they invited Russian coach and sports science expert Boris Vasilkovsky to give a seminar to the US coaches. The Americans learned a great deal from Boris, taking notes as he presented his training philosophy in detail.

After the seminar, someone came up to Boris and asked him, "Why did you just share all that intellectual property with your competition? Aren't you worried that they will use it to train their own skaters to beat yours?"

To this, Boris replied, "I am not concerned. Without me there on a daily basis to observe the skaters and modify the program based on their performance in training, they cannot take full advantage of what they have learned."

Tuesday, September 20, 2005

The High 5 Splinter Cell:

Just thought I'd let everyone know that Boris Leikin and I are no longer working together. Without going into detail, I felt that my input into my training program, both in terms of how I was (or wasn't) adapting to the training load, and in terms of which events I did or did not want to skate, was not being taken seriously.

I guess I was experiencing the phenomenon about which I've written on this blog before: "The faster they skated, the more the noose tightened around their necks." Thus, following last season's successful conclusion and the strength I showed during this year's early season training, I found myself being treated more and more like a pair of strong legs created by someone else, attached to a mind that he saw as a liability.

I thank Boris for last season and for the program that built my conditioning base for this year. I'd also like to thank Boris Vasilkovsky for acting as our scientific advisor. However, I have found that, for this upcoming competitive season, I really need something different from a coach than what I was getting from Boris Leikin.

I'd like to see a coach as a collaborator, rather than as a boss or a parental figure. Boris, on the other hand, has openly admitted that my place in this coach/athlete relationship was that of a subordinate. Whether or not that is an appropriate way to view a 28-year-old with three seasons on the World Cup circuit and the ability to summarize the latest research on physiology and biochemistry -- I'll leave that up to you to decide.

And for those who find that it's easier to hear some things being said by a man than by a woman, please refer to the following excerpt from the Protocol theme song:

"Leave me alone
I'm not asking a lot
I just don't want to be controlled."
Burnout and Recovery:


Last week was my first week back to training after two weeks off. The last time I posted about my training, I talked about the long, hard training cycle my team was doing in August, and my concerns about getting overtrained.

In Week 5 of that cycle, we had a full week of training scheduled, but I wasn't able to do much at all. I showed up for two training sessions, and failed to complete even a third of each of those practices. The rest of the time, I spent on my couch at home, getting behind on everything from chores to bills to errands.

We actually had a full week off scheduled for the following week, and I made plans to drive down to California to visit friends and hang out on the beach. Since I don't trust my car to make such a long trip, I made a rental car reservation.

However, this trip was not to be. On Saturday afternoon, I got a call from my mom letting me know that my grandmother, who lived in Poland, had passed away. So, I decided to change my plans and fly out to Detroit to spend the week with my parents.

It was a sad occasion, but it was nice to be together with my family at that time. We remembered the good times we had with Grandma, and said prayers for her. When my brother and I were younger, we had gone to Poland several times to visit our grandparents. I remember her watching out the window of her 3rd floor apartment as I got into fist fights with the boys on the playground. She'd yell at me to come inside, but Mom told me that for years afterward, Grandma remembered those fights with pride, and kept on saying that I was her favorite grandchild.

My brother and I remember our grandparents as being examples of people for whom "being a good person" did not conflict with "standing up for yourself." Though we saw them infrequently, they were great role models for us when we were growing up.

---

Back in Detroit, I took the rest I needed. I floated around in my parents' pool, and, other than helping my mom a little bit around the yard, I didn't do anything. I couldn't believe that I had absolutely no urge to do any physical activity whatsoever. Even the thought of going for a run made my whole body ache. One day, I did a 20-minute spin on the exercise bike in the basement, and some core strength work. Other than that, I didn't work out at all.

By Thursday of that week, my resting heart rate went down to 56 -- finally, after almost a month, it was down below 60 beats per minute again. Still, my motivation for training had not returned, and I was concerned whether I'd be ready to start training on Monday.

Once I returned to Salt Lake City on Saturday, I decided that I'd ease my way into training, rather than jumping in and doing the full program with the team. At Tuesday's ice practice, I only did the first set of laps (12, 9, and 6 laps at variable speeds), and on Wednesday I skipped the afternoon practice entirely. By Friday, I actually felt like myself again!

So, I'd have to say that the verdict on my overtraining is in. Though Rex Albertson, who coaches the High 5 team along with Boris, believes that I did get overtrained and may still need more time to recover, I don't think that I was completely overtrained. I do believe that I had dug myself into more of a hole than I would have liked to, but I don't think that any permanent damage was done.

Friday, September 02, 2005

Do My New Oakleys Make Me Look Serious???

Finally, after 17 years of being a speedskater, I have broken down and ordered myself a pair of real Oakley M Frame Pro glasses. In previous seasons, I have begged and borrowed from teammates, friends, and coaches; I've tried to find acceptable substitutes at the dollar store or at gas stations; I even got a pair of "Fakeleys" from my buddy Mark Chrysler, but they kept on falling off my face during the jump workouts this summer.

Most of the time, I skate just fine without glasses, but sometimes they help (like when you're in the middle of a driving hailstorm in Inzell!)

Towards the end of last season, Boris told me that, at the speeds I'm going now, I need glasses to protect my eyes from the air pressure. OK. I don't want my eyeballs to pop out! (And I'm willing to pretend that I really am that fast.)

The US Speedskating Team used to have some sort of deal with Oakley and Standard Optical, before the last Olympics. By the time I tried to obtain my own free pair, though, the deal had fallen through.

When I went to Standard Optical, they said they no longer offered the M Frames I was looking for. They gave me a prescription sample kit instead! The frame was hinged and kept falling apart, and the lenses had a big black "RX" etched over the center of each eye. The lady at the counter suggested I drive out to the Deer Valley ski resort and see if I could exchange the glasses for a real pair at their pro shop. Of course, they didn't have any M Frames either, so I took my beautiful pair of Prescription Sample Kit glasses and stashed them in my closet.

The funniest part of it, though, is the reason why Standard Optical no longer wanted to be in on the free sunglasses deal with US Speedskating. It seems that several abuses of this deal had been taking place. For example, one of the girls on the team had apparently managed to grab herself a $400 pair of Gucci fashion glasses. Thanks for wrecking it for the rest of us.

It's OK - I'm grateful that I can still afford to buy some necessary skating equipment for myself.

When I saw the description of the Oakley M Frame glasses on the Oakley web site, I had to laugh:

M Frame: "Worn by S.W.A.T. teams and others who take their view of the world seriously."

Do I take ANYTHING seriously?
Now that you know the science, here's how it feels to hang yourself over the edge of overtraining


And so it begins. I wake up from a nap one afternoon and fix myself 2 cups of coffee before the ice training session. There is no effect, despite the strong dose of caffeine. I get my stuff together. Crap! I'm late already.

"How are you feeling today?" (Don't talk to me.) "Ready to go fast? I am." (Snarl.)

After a half-hearted warmup on the track, I change into my training suit and bring my skating stuff up to the benches in the center of the oval. I sit there, catching my breath after the hike up the stairs, staring at the ice for a few minutes. Damn, I hate ice skating sometimes; don't want to be here right now. I grab my stopwatch, MP3 player and water bottle, and step out onto the ice.

You know the difference between "good pain" and "bad pain?" Well, I'm feeling some bad pain right now. There is a sharp pain in my left outer quad that makes it very difficult to sit in the skating position. I do 4 laps for my warmup instead of the usual 6.

I'm feeling so bad - like a wounded animal that wants to crawl deep into the forest and die alone; skate alone. Nobody watch me die. Sometimes, speedskating is a grotesque display of human agony.

"Boris, I need to skate by myself right now."

"Come on, Eva," says a teammate of mine, "It will be easier to skate in our draft."

(Flash forward: "Woo-hoo! We just held all 35's!") I wanted no part of that, when my schedule called for a progressive series of 4X (41,40,39, 38), and I was already sensing that I'd have trouble just finishing the laps.

Yeah, I just let the guys go, figuring they'd get the point. I shook my head in an attempt to clear it; frowned to narrow my focus. When I have a hard time getting motivated, threats usually work: "You could be in the LAB right now, Eva. DO YOU WANT TO GO BACK TO THE LAB?"

After a sarcastic laugh at my own expense, I check my stopwatch: Beep, beep, beep. It works. Then I turn up my MP3 player until my ears hurt to make it all go away:

"Start a fight I can't defend
One more time
Dammit I changed again..
."


OK
OK
OK

A few deep breaths...
and...
go

Thirteen laps into my first set, some members of the skeleton team- who are running sprints on the track- learn that gold medals don't just fall out of the sky. I can see the horrified expression on one guy's face as I skate by; looking down, I see that there's a rope of drool connecting the back of my throat to the outside of my left knee. Gross! Don't let the children see. "Isn't ice skating pretty?"

At least my musical selection continues to be appropriate:

"Try to make it through
Fuck your decision
I can't feel myself
But I'm burning up now!"


Never mind medals. This is what it takes to crack the Top 20 in my sport...Right?

Once I begin my second set of laps, there is no more screaming pain. A blessed numbness settles in and remains for the rest of the training week, which I somehow manage to complete. There are two hours of bike intervals on the schedule for the following day, and sprints, tempos and weights the day after that.

Our coach goes on a trip overseas, and he will be away for a week, so we're on our own for a while. After a full weekend of rest, more all-out ice tempos are scheduled for Monday. By that afternoon I'm feeling sleepy, so I decide to put off the tempos until Tuesday morning. I fall into bed at 1 PM, wake up at 5 to heat some leftovers for dinner, then return to bed and sleep through the night.

On Tuesday morning, after 17 hours of sleep since Monday afternoon, my resting heart rate has somehow shot up to 68 beats per minute. This is not a good sign. I try to do the 400 and 800-meter tempos on ice, fail miserably, and leave after only one 400.

After doing some more reading on overtraining prevention, I decide to take 48 hours of rest before attempting to train again. Two days later, my resting heart rate still hasn't dropped below 66. After three days, I decide to try a weight workout anyway.

Morning heart rate data like this is frightening. It makes me think: How deep is this hole into which I have dug myself? How long will it take me to get out? Will I end up in worse shape than I was before I started this hard training cycle? Did it all go to waste?

By mid-week, my brain function has returned to the point where I can think logically once agin. I realize that, had I still been capable of training, this would have been Week 5 of a hard training cycle! No wonder I was unable to complete the workouts. How could I have been such a blithering idiot? You can't train hard for 5 straight weeks, if you've been doing everything on the program, and doing it right.

The only thing left for me to do now is to try everything possible to recover from this, and, when I come back, to take more control over my own training. I need to make a commitment to listen to my own body -- rather than trying to drown out the signals it is giving me. I can't get caught up in worrying if somebody is thinking of me as a "weak and whining girl," because, in the end, this season is my own responsibility. Only I will be left with the consequences of screwing it up in a stupid way.