I Took a Week Off Working Out (WHAT). Here’s What Happened
Holy J’s on my feet, fam! (Just bought my first pair of actual J’s a few weekends ago in Chicago. I’m excited and obsessed.)
I know, you’re double-taking. Yes, you read the title right. Yes, I took a week off, and oh yes, you’re about to get all the deets on how I reacted to that mess.
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Ooh, now you’re curious, because WTF does this even mean?[/caption]
In the world of “training like an athlete,” there’s this thing called rest, and if your name is Anne, the only time you really get any of that is during sleep, if your body decides to cooperate. Some nights you can’t for absolutely no reason, even though you should be exhausted after 3 hours at the gym, plus a hike and whatever else you worked in.
I’m a go-til-I-drop person. I don’t really know (or like) limits, and I’ve trained myself to ignore my body and keep pushing when I should probably stop. For evidence, here’s this revelatory conversation I had with a friend recently:
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As you can see, all of this “Let’s ignore everything and keep going, yay!” business made me Resident №1 of Overtraining Capital. I’m not even all that surprised. Three years ago, I found myself as Captain Ouchy, Mayor of Hip Hurty City while pushing too hard on the treadmill trying to run off collegiate finals stress. I’m a notorious overtrainer.
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Yeah, that’s about right.[/caption]
I knew this going into training for a Competitive Trifecta Spartan season, and I promised myself I’d be honest about my limits. And while I was (sorta), I didn’t always follow-through. I cut back on some lifts and workouts a bit when the bod was saying, “Yo… Cool that you’re tough and all, but uh, we hurt. Chill.” But more often, the internal monologue went thusly:
Body: Hey bro. I know you’re addicted to your exercise endorphins, but uhm, we didn’t eat enough protein or get enough sleep the last couple days. Maybe make it a light day?
Me: Oh… Uhm… Okay… How bout I run 4 miles instead of 5… at a 10-second slower pace?
Body: Yeah… Gonna need more than that. Maybe pick: Spartan or lift today.
Me: What if I do my Spartan workout AND my lifts… but not shoot hoops for an hour after?
Body: Yeah, do that, but also, do less of something, too.
Me: *feels guilt/fear, wonders if this will sabotage entire season, if this will be the difference between kicking major ass and competing like a mediocre noob (which I am, and also don’t want to show any indication of at all)* Uhm… Okay. *mentally decides to take out one exercise and maybe not do some lunges during the Spartan WOD because the knees have been hurting abnormally lately*
Body: …You know I can hear your internal monologue, right? I do not approve. This is not enough. Take something else out.
Me: Okay. *doesn’t, goes for 2 hour hike with Shadowpup later*
This is a pretty standard. And also stupid. I am completely aware, and you cannot be stubbornly stupid without a price.
The thing is… I know that not every workout should leave me obliterated. And while I “know” this, I push in that direction anyway. I spend roughly 2.5–3 hours a day at the gym between Spartan and weight lifting. That’s not counting days when I throw in other things, like shooting hoops, or doing the Stairmaster for an added 20 minutes to get that extra booty pump. I used to lift to burnout every day, and then couldn’t figure out why I couldn’t hit one pull-up. (I’m smart and dumb all together. Hello, my name is Anne, and I make no sense.)
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This is how I imagine people feel when they try to figure me out. Good. Luck.[/caption]
So when it became clear that I needed a week to fully rest, I knew it was going to be tough; I didn’t like the idea, but the best choices are often the most difficult. (Thanks Dad.)
The Week Before
The week prior, the “what if” squad took residence in my thoughts.
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Can you not?[/caption]
I’m prone to anxiety and depression, and have struggled with both since hormones officially “made me a woman.” Nature is so neat.
What seems to work best is plenty of sun, hikes, and exercise-induced endorphins. It’s the chief reason why I’m now so exercise-obsessed. Correlational relationship: The more I exercise, the better and happier I feel. Conversely, the ick feels are far more manageable when they do show up. I’m far more even-keel than I used to be.
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Well it’s about time, baby Danny DeVito.[/caption]
Anyway, I spent the week leading up to my “vacay” trying not to obsess over what could go wrong. Would I feel low? Would I have to battle back the “bitch squad” of thoughts that come along with depression? Would I be itchy/anxious/dying to get to the gym?
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Please no.[/caption]
I didn’t question whether I’d stick with it — I knew I was at a point where I didn’t have a choice.
There were also other questions: What if my body actually feels better? What if I don’t want to get back into it after a week off?
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You stupid.[/caption]
(A split second later, I laughed at myself. Yeah, right. That’ll never happen.) What will I do with all that extra free time usually spent working out?
I let the thoughts come and go as they pleased, not giving too much attention to the negative what-ifs. If I fed into that, I knew I’d never make it through the coming week.
The Week Off
I decided to spend the week off with active rest, knowing that sitting around and loafing wouldn’t be beneficial, either. I needed time to recover and repair, not to turn into a koala-sloth hybrid (Each sleep for 18 and 20 hours a day, respectively).
I planned to do some pool-work, but the CRWC decided to drain their pool. Of course.
So, I improvised instead, with HotHouse Yoga (yessssss), low-effort stationary biking while reading (so as to encourage staying below cardio zone), long walks with pup, a morning of shooting hoops for an hour, and lots of foam rolling. (Apologies to my apartment neighbors for all the strangled sounds of pain and torment.) And I even took an entire day off — no active rest at all.
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I couldn’t believe it either.[/caption]
What I found was that I had more aches/pains/knots in areas than I was aware. When I stopped being in constant “go mode”, my body was able to better communicate,
“HEY WE HAVE A HUGE KNOT RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF THIS QUAD!”
“OH AND ALSO THERE’S THAT RECURRING KNOT UNDERNEATH YOUR SHOULDER BLADE! THOUGHT THAT GOT BETTER, DIDN’T YA? NOPE!”
“OH, AND HEY, THAT KNOT IS CAUSING A RIPPLE EFFECT INTO YOUR LEFT BICEP AND TRICEP, SO YOU SHOULD WORK THOSE OUT!”
“OH, AND WAIT! IT BANDS ARE TIGHT, WHICH LIKELY MEANS YOU’RE NOT USING YOUR GLUTES PROPERLY. OOPS!”
I also learned how to roll out my lats (through the armpit — yeah, I wrinkled my forehead, too), and holy bananas, that is un-fun. The golf ball-plantar fasciitis roll comes at a wicked close second.
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Exactly like this, minus the pastry, cute animals, sunshine and happiness.[/caption]
The Week After
It was the most educational week I’ve had in a while. I read loads of articles via Outside Online (new obsession). I start and end my days with it now, even if the material I’m reading has nothing to do with training (like the mysterious disappearance of The Bear Lady).
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It was fascinating, actually.[/caption]
I found many areas that need regular attention. I taught myself some handy, if not uncomfortable, beneficial stretches. Even though I stretch every day, they aren’t the right kind, and I need to make besties with the foam roller. While I have been avidly working on hip balance to combat my incessant hip flexor problems, there’s always more to learn about mobility and range of motion.
Oh, and those aches and pains I have regularly? Minor indication of what’s actually going on with my body. Yeah, I knew about the knots in my tricep and bicep, but I didn’t know about the giant monster hiding under my shoulder blade, which is likely the reason I can’t consistently hit my pull-ups.
The time off gave my body much needed rest, which gave my muscles more time to grow. My lifts went up. I crushed 20 burpees in a minute with ease, where I used to kill myself to get 15 before the timer went off. I saw dramatic improvement in form. I’d been having difficulty maintaining good form (which I’m a freak about), likely because my muscles just needed a break.
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The Disney depiction of overtrained muscles.[/caption]
Most of all, and most surprising, my mental and emotional well-being didn’t suffer. Shocked. I thought for sure I’d feel depressed, or wildly anxious. The active rest helped quell those issues, I’m sure, but even still. I thought high-intensity driven endorphins were the only solution. Turns out, a good mix is probably best for both my mind and my body.
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That’s the stuff.[/caption]
So, what’s the verdict?
Expectation:
Complete the week and get back at it, relieved to not have to take any more time away from the gym.
Result:
Actively searching for other ways to work my body that don’t require a daily beating.
I’m already planning what I’m going to do as soon as race season ends to repair and restore my body to full health, so I don’t have any more glaring imbalances that are waiting to cause injury. More pool time. Listening to the body and mirroring actions to suit the needs.
Hey, even this stubborn HBIC can learn new habits.
HBIC,
Bossey Boots
