Bottom of the Well- How I Almost Quit Triathlon Pt. II

Back in what seems like another life, I was a “competitive” tennis player. I use the word “competitively” loosely, because although I was a hard worker during practice, I was hardly ever a real force in a match play situation. As the match dragged on, more and more forehands would find themselves hitting the back fence and the amount of missed overheads would slowly mount. I would start to crumble. Like an oatmeal cookie... on fire… during an earthquake. So like that bad. The crumbles of legend.

Side note: It’s factually impossible to say “crumble” five times fast with a straight face.

And so I developed an excuse. I was actually trying harder than my opponent. I was the one hustling to every ball. I was hitting harder serves. But in my mind, tennis was a sport that rewarded technical skill over physical strength. When I looked across the net, I’d be upset that I was “trying” harder, but because I probably didn’t play as much as my opponent, I would be OK with losing. I just didn’t have the technical skill. And that’s when I stopped being an athlete and started being a spectator. I’d go and watch myself lose. And lose. Until I was so sick and tired of losing that I decided I was in the wrong sport. I wanted to just throw myself at something where the harder I worked the better I’d get.

And so for a while it was weights. Contrary to popular belief, I actually used to have a decent amount of muscle. There’s some regrettable selfies that probably exist somewhere on the interweb still documenting this narcissistic/douchebag stage of my life. Bro.

But growing up playing sports, I eventually gravitated towards another one. Running. Which is pretty funny considering that I was trying to get big. I remember pounding back weight gainers after practice because I didn’t want to lose my gains. If you’re wondering if that even makes sense, or is healthy, the answer to both is no. Guys are dumb. We literally have no idea what we’re doing 99% of the time. And that 1% covers knowing how to pee standing up. And even that depends on the day.

So I ran. And ran. With the expectation that the harder I ran, the better I’d get. Easy right? In case live under a rock, or are a guy (or probably both)… that’s not how it works. I got like “meh” by the end of high school. First year university I ran with the Lancers and got to the point where I was like “meh?”. I debuted at the half marathon with a 1:18:02 and I thought that was pretty dope for an 18yr old runner who had been mid-front pack during high school. And so I was hooked on endurance sport. But that stupid mentality that I had brought from tennis persisted. It’s not like I was stupid stupid stubborn. I was learning, albeit slowly. But at those crucial moments I’d always relapse. And those turn out to be the most important. Most of us know when we’re in over our head. We’ll call a workout if the demands are unreasonable or we just really really don’t feel good. But it’s those question mark moments when we’re faced with a crossroads that really separate the “athletes” from the “spectators”. Who's in it for the long haul and who's riding the temporary wave of instant gratification?

Those critical junctures might look like this:

My knee feels funny. Should I keep on running because I’m probably just tight, or stop and do a more thorough check? Do I know I’m injured/recovering but I just really want to run? Am I going to err on the side of safety or recklessness? Would my future self be ok with this? Is there a possibility that this might compromise my fitness? What would a pro do? Am I being strong or stupid?

I used to have those conversations with myself all the time. Here’s what I’ve gotten from being injured more times than I can even remember. All those little, unglamorous things… the things you do when no one is watching, the things that might not even be physical in nature but mental… those are what separate the great from good. After some reflection, I’m not even “good” at triathlon yet. I’m just young and in shape with a habit of working hard. Too hard. Knowing when to hammer and went to hold back is something I've never been good at. I'd tricked myself into thinking that because I was "smart" I was "Triathlon-Smart". And last season’s behind the scenes implosion was exactly the wake-up call I needed to realize that. I had the "Triathlon-IQ" of that aforementioned oatmeal cookie.

…

It started with this weird twitching behind my right eye. I knew the feeling. I take school very, very seriously and during exam time, I’d always get that same twitch. But at the end of July, during a summer of basically just eating, sleeping, and SBR-ing, I casually concluded that my potassium must be low or something. Stupid. I felt tired, but I felt like that was a regular part of training. I had never really known how to recover properly. Sure I read article after article on it, but I’d usually just be like “oh, well I feel fine so I guess I don’t need that”. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, right? Stupid.

LESSON #1: Treat every day like it could be the last day of your career. Rehab every injury like you could never race again. Value every minute of sleep like you would a second off your 5km PR. Invert your thinking… small things FIRST, big things SECOND. That massive workout can wait until you feel healthy. There’s a big difference between healthy and tired and unhealthy and tired!

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I remember “massaging” details of my workout so I could “show off” to my coach or not tip him off that I wasn’t feeling great. Honesty would come in bouts. Treat your coach LIKE A COACH. Opening up an honest dialogue with them will make you FASTER. Did that catch your attention? How much sense does it make to hire someone who’s supposed to make you faster, if you don’t listen to their advice or give them honest information to work with? And for those who are self-coached… that doesn’t mean you can just do what you want! Create an alter-ego. Fill their head with as much knowledge as possible. Being self-coached doesn’t mean you aren’t being coached. Make that coach alter-ego the ultimate voice of reason.

LESSON #2: LISTEN TO YOUR DAMN COACH. That doesn’t mean benignly following every piece of advice they give. If they know what they’re doing, chances are they’re right, but approach every question with another question: why? Not as a challenge, but as an opportunity to learn.

I’m a tennis coach nowadays. I’m on the “other” side, if that makes sense. I can see things that I KNOW I couldn’t see when I was a player or when I started coaching 5 years ago. You know what makes me super happy? When some kid asks me: “what’s the point of this?”. That’s often accompanied with an exasperated sigh or rolled eyes (sidenote: teenagers are freaking goons sometimes). Guess what. A good coach will tell you exactly why you should follow their advice. And if you don’t get it- guess what. You need to find out why you don’t. Remember: Everyone thinks they’re right, unless they know they’re wrong.

...

I spent August in a deep, depressing funke. All of a sudden I wasn’t having fun anymore. Workouts were dreaded. Nutrition was non-existent. I was cranky. I was avoiding friends. The issue was I was still racing/training well. Until I wasn’t.

I had two “bad” races last season. Nationals actually wasn’t dreadful, I just completely mismanaged my nutrition and ending up bonking 4-5km into the run. Looking back, finishing 16th considering the circumstances actually wasn’t all that bad for someone who was dropping their first Olympic triathlon ever on like 25-30km running a week. Tecumseh, on the other hand, was just a complete shit-show.

Everyone…EVERYONE has bad races. But I allowed myself to get disappointed and upset and that attitude followed me through the rest of the season. Even coming 2nd at Wasaga Beach with a pretty average physical performance, but an awesome mental performance, wasn’t enough to get me out of this rut. I entered the off-season completely burnt out from triathlon and looking to get as far away from it as possible.

I was very much aware that I was burnt out, but I didn’t really do much about it. I thought it was the result of “overtraining”, and that I just needed another week or two to fully recover. But as the weeks and months ticked by, and that edge never really returned, I realized the problem was in my head. All those life stresses I had let accumulate had started to boil over… barely perceptible at first, but they had manifested themselves in this burnout.

LESSON #3: Burnout is mental. Being physically tired is a symptom/contributing factor. Not the cause!

Physical wear and tear can be healed with time and good recovery techniques. Don’t overlook mental rehabilitation. It doesn’t matter how fit you are standing on that start line. If you don’t want to be there, you’re not ready. If you don’t love what you’re doing, then you’re doing it for the wrong reasons. And time cannot heal this. If the environment you’re in isn’t conducive to your healing, things won’t change.

A flower can grow among the weeds, but someone has to plant the damn flower!

…

This was quite the read. It was quite the write. I need another entry to bring this story full circle. But I’ll give away a bit of the ending- finding support within the community has helped me come back stronger than ever. I am very thankful that many of these supporters have also chosen to partner with me for this upcoming season.

This story might have had a very different ending if weren’t for the LPC Hurdle Project, City Cyclery, Pursuit Sports Recovery Centre, Pearl Izumi, Just Nutrition, Just Supplements, and the Multisport Canada Recharge With Milk Series.