Knowing When to Stop: The Endurance Athlete's Achilles' Heel

Knowing when to stop is not easy for athletes and it can be a serious liability for endurance athletes in particular. If it weren't for a virus my wife picked up, I'd be riding a 200K permanent today. Riding despite some pretty significant pain and mobility reduction in my left shoulder as a result of some yoga and leaf raking I did last weekend. Any sensible person would say, "time to take a week or two off until I'm feeling back to normal," but randonneurs aren't normal. What generally makes randonneurs, and ultra-distance athletes in general, successful is the ability to look adversity, pain and discomfort in the face and say, "to hell with it."

My wife tells a funny story she heard from her doctor about a guy who broke is toe running, yet persisted in asking the doctor what he could expect from continuing to train despite being told to take a six-week hiatus to heal. He was relentless. The only trouble is, I can see the runner's point of view all too clearly. The temperament that leads to our success can also be our undoing.

I was actually very impressed with Diana Nyad's recent decision to end her "Extreme Dream" to swim 103 miles from Cuba to Florida after being stung repeatedly by jellyfish and looking at the possibility of DYING from shock if she continued. DNF and DNS particularly nasty expressions to use with an endurance athlete, but sometimes saying no is the best thing in the long run.

So with 27 days left in the month (14 of which I'm actually on vacation), I'm not too nervous about the impact that this day off will have on my R-12 plans, despite the fact that it will undoubtedly be colder and perhaps even snowy when I'm feeling up for my next 200K. Hopefully, though, I'll have enough willpower to wait until my shoulder has healed a bit more from this setback before heading out on a day-long ride.

Gone fishin'

Well, it looks like that spill I took on the Cranbury 600K back in June actually fractured my humerus. It's funny when you're sitting in the doctor's office and the diagnosis of a broken bone is actually GOOD news. I was very glad to hear that I had not torn my rotator cuff, though. Anyway, it looks like I'm off the bike for four weeks with my arm in a sling. This corresponds with a whirlwind family vacation that was not to include cycling of any great proportion anyway, so the timing is actually not bad.

I'm sure glad I listened to my wife and sat out the recent Lap of the Lake 1000K. Finishing the 600 with a broken arm is one thing, but 620 miles is another altogether. I just submitted my registration and hope to be recovered and able to ride the Endless Mountains 1000K in late August. The doctor didn't say yes and he didn't say no, but I may have neglected to mention the actual distance . . . Time will tell.

DNS: The Lap of the Lake 1000K that wasn't

I’ve always viewed DNS as the somewhat tamer cousin of the dreaded DNF. I’ve seen it as a card to be played only in the most extreme cases, a sign of failure. But as country singer Kenny Rogers reminds us, “You gotta know when to hold ‘em, know when to fold ‘em, know when to walk away, and know when to run . . .”  By all accounts, I should be admiring the view of Lake Ontario right now with 56 of my new best  friends on the Lap of the Lake 1000K brevet. Instead, I’m sitting here writing about why I’m not.

Knowing when to call it quits is a hard thing for most randonneurs. These are people who generally operate in that zone somewhere between crazy and stupid, courageous and insane.  When is too much TOO MUCH?  I reached my limit this week. A crash on the NJ 600K on June 26^th left me with reduced mobility and persistent pain in my left shoulder. I was able to finish that event, but the spill has taken a toll on my season. After the road rash has healed, I’m left wondering whether I’ve done something serious this time around. Unable to get an appointment with an orthopedist until next Monday, I wait and spend less time on the bike than I normally would at this time of year.  The scariest thing is, had my wife not put her foot down, I’d be out there right now figuring that things would sort themselves out (which they might). I worry that my determination to keep going no matter what may lead me into trouble down the road.

Randonneurs understand the psychological buildup that comes from training and planning for a big event. I first learned about the LOL 1000K back in the fall and it’s not been far from my mind over the past six months. While I completed the LEL 1400K last summer, this was to be my first 1000K event and I was eager to test the distance as well as achieve airtight qualification for PBP pre-registration priority next year. I keep reminding myself that, all in all, I’m pretty lucky that my crash was not more serious. Frank Schleck was in surgery deep into the night on Tuesday to repair his broken collarbone ending his Tour and we all know that much worse can happen on the open roads.

As disappointing as it is, I realize that healing is probably wiser than riding this week. I am feeling a bit better each day and with luck, I’ll get good news from the doctor on Monday. Riding itself does not seem to stress my injury all that much. I was out last weekend on a 50-mile spin through the Catskills that included some major climbs. Only once did I feel a sharp jab as I shifted my weight on the bars coming out of my saddle to add heft to my pedal stroke. With a little luck, I’ll be properly mended for the Endless Mountain 1000K in late August. For now, I’ll have to imagine the view of the lake and the adventures that my friend Andrey and others are having along the way.

Stupid Household Accidents: Bus 1, George 0

Yesterday, my training was sidelined by a bus. Luckily, I wasn't cycling at the time. In fact, I wasn't even hit by the bus in question. OK, here's the story: yesterday as I was getting off a school bus at the end of a trip with a group of students to a local ice skating rink, I slipped down three wet, slick steps and found myself lying face up on the sidewalk. In a hurry to get a pair of forgotten winter gloves to a student, I didn't grab hold of the hand railing and went flying.

So rather than pound out an indoor century this morning, I spent time in bed icing my back and hoping for a speedy recovery. After last year's odd herniated disc trouble which took quite a few months of chiropractic and stretching to heal, I'm not taking any chances. I landed on muscle rather than bone, so it should be back to normal pretty soon. The ability to push through injury and pain is often an asset to an endurance cyclist. Determining when to stop, when to pull back, and when to keep going is not so easy. How much pain is too much? When does inconvenience turn to danger? As a result of this uncertainty, cyclists can find themselves in trouble as accute injuries left untreated become chronic ones. Luckily, I don't suffer from chronic physical problems. I'd like to keep it that way as long as possible.

All of this reminds me how lucky I am to be healthy and free from injury. Cycling is inherently dangerous and for the endurance crowd I belong to, it's easy to throw care to the wind and assume everything will work out just fine in the end. I plan to spend most of my base training hours indoors this winter. With temperatures below freezing most of the time and with dark and icy roads a common phenomenon, I'll save my risk-taking for the spring and summer months. For now, I'll wait until things heal a bit before hitting the trainer some time next week.