I bonked this weekend. Hard. So hard that it felt like I'd never bonked before (though I certainly have) as this was an order of magnitude higher. A big full-body, day-ending bonk.
We had a brick(a two sport training session, in this case a swim and run) on Saturday that began in the Larkspur / Corte Madera area at Redwood High School. I got up early that morning, and ate right away: some scrambled eggs, around 7 am. I drank plenty of water, plenty of electrolyte mix, and was off.
The swim wasn't so bad, we warmed up, drilled, did a 12 minute time trial (which was tough, but short) and then practiced mass starts by swimming through a "gauntlet" for four lengths (100 yards) with teammates surrounding us on all sides splashing the water, pushing us down, pulling us, grabing our arms and legs, and swimming on top of us.
It was damn fun.
Afterwards, we sat and shivered for 45 minutes below a cloudy sky whiel the coaches gave us tips on fast tire changing and descents (while the other half of the team was in the pool). I think this long pause and cold weather may have hurt me. During the clinics, I ate a Clif bar. And then, I was off again on a 10.23 mile run through Ross up to Mt. Tam and a little way up its eastern slope.
I finished up with everything by 12:30 or so and after some dicking around in the parking lot, drove back to San Francisco a little after one pm. I dropped Maria off on the way, went to pick up my mail, and stopped in at the grocery to pick up some Sushi. At this point I was feeling pretty good, if very hungry. I was hoping to meet up with Andre if he came in my neighborhood to go bike shopping, and was even thinking I'd be able to get a drink that evening with Andy and Ami.
No such luck.
By the time I got home from the store, after 20 minutes or so of looking for parking, I was feeling pretty lousy, and things were acelerating quickly. I barely made it up the steps (four flights) with all my gear and groceries, and was gasping the entire way. By the time I got in the door, I realized I was shaking pretty badly, and was starting to get a little freaked out. I sat down and ate right as soon as I got in the door,at 2:40 or so, but it seemed like it was too late. I was completley sick to my stomach by this point, desperately nauseus and still shaking all over.
After eating, it was all I could do to drag myself three feet over to the couch and drop myself on it. It was Hell just getting my (still wet) tri shorts off. Harper was at work, and I was scared, really scared, and confused and disoriented. My whole body fet like it was breaking, and I curled up in a ball and tried to go to sleep.
Harper came in from work within a few minutes of when I had dropped on the couch, to find me a total wreck. Not only was I feeling lousy physically, I was done mentally as well. I was totally confused and scared, emotional, and just an all-around mess. She helped me get it together, got me in the shower, and made me a Cytomax recovery shake. Within a half hour or so of her getting home, I was starting to feel a lot better, but I was still pretty much a wreck the balance of the evening and felt like shit much of Sunday.
Lesson learned: eat within a half hour of working out. Eat while you're working out.
I know these things, I've known them for years, but I didn't practice them and I felt like I paid a huge price for it on Saturday.
Originally posted on mat.vox.com
