Pause & Reflect

Following any highly anticipated event — a vacation, a birthday, a competition — it’s common to feel a little bit ‘empty’. We all know that Christmas-afternoon sensation — surrounded by strewn wrapping paper, once the cinnamon rolls have been eaten and the coffee has gone cold — when you’ve suddenly passed some sort of mental finish line and realize it’s time to reorient.

As an athlete in my 20s, I ricocheted from goal to goal in an attempt to avoid that feeling. Managed a half marathon? Must be time for a full. Successfully swam around Key West? Let’s check out the English Channel. First Olympic-distance triathlon felt okay? Guess we’re doing a half Ironman. I was perpetually checking items off a list — in my relative immaturity, constantly moving toward whatever seemed like the next ‘logical’ step — but in the back of my mind, I was also uneasy. What happens when I reach the ‘end’? Once I do a full Ironman (ha!) — what will I have left to aim for?

I’m so grateful, now, to be in such a thoroughly different place. That’s definitely not to say that I’m feeling zero post-Open letdown this week — I got much more out of the experience than it initially felt like I would, and with any journey, no matter how excited we are for the next phase, shifting gears inevitably takes a second. We don’t automatically stop thinking about workplace emails the instant our butt hits the chair in the airport lounge; we need a couple of hours to transition into vacation mode.

But it’s worth acknowledging that the ‘in-between’ periods — like this week — are also psychologically easier than they used to be. First, because CrossFit is inherently different in terms of its makeup; unlike endurance sports, we’re not aiming to gain speed or efficiency in just one specific skill. ‘Functional fitness’ encompasses such a broad range of tasks that our performance ability is usually determined by our weaknesses rather than our strengths. Right now, I’m comparatively better at the ‘endurance’ aspects of the sport — longer time domains, light sustainable movements like wallballs and burpees — but that doesn’t mean I keep doubling down on those things; rather, it means I focus on getting my OTHER areas to catch up: heavier barbells, more sophisticated gymnastics. Here, we specialize in not specializing — and that means ‘goals’ within this sport are myriad and fluid; there aren’t clear endpoints the way there typically are with endurance events. Now that I can snatch 130#, I’m chasing 135#. Learning to walk on my hands consistently (!) means that pretty soon I’ll start practicing that skill under fatigue. The space for improvement is inexhaustible.

But mostly — the reason my perspective is different now is because I am different now. I savor these thousands of baby steps in a way that I never did with running or triathlon or even swimming. Nowadays, it’s the PROCESS that keeps me motivated, not a box on a checklist. Granted, I do hope some higher-level opportunities present themselves as time goes on — but that type of goal is only useful inasmuch as it helps define the direction of the path. It isn’t the same thing as the larger ‘why’.

I’m not training ‘for an event’. I’m training to see what I can do.

I’m grateful to have this much drive. Thankful that there’s something in this world that excites me and gets me out of bed in the morning. But the real point of this post is to acknowledge the equally important role of the transition, the space where ‘letdown’ tends to lurk. Because #showyourwork is about much more than just physical exertion within the four walls of a gym. Falling in love with the effort itself is essential, but physiologically, we don’t get stronger by training; we get stronger by recovering — and that requires just as much active ‘work’ as the other aspects of athleticism. It isn’t just the magnesium supplements and the Theracane and the Epsom salt baths — it’s also deliberately hitting the brakes every six weeks or so, even when it’s the last thing you want to do. It’s facing that unsettled feeling for a little while, acknowledging it as a necessary part of continuing to move forward — and thereby also strengthening your overall patience and trust.

For me, this particular transition has been unexpectedly tough. Deload week always feels a little odd in both body and mind anyway — feeling ‘refreshed’ after training (rather than ‘contentedly depleted’) is nice for a day or two, but it’s inevitably accompanied by some mental restlessness. I was ready for that part, and was even ready for it to feel harder than usual (post-Open, we’re recovering from intensity more so than from volume, meaning the sense of physically ‘needing’ a deload isn’t quite the same).

What I did not expect was for my unsettled mind to manifest in my body to the extent that it did. This week’s lighter training changed my intuition around food; some days I wasn’t nearly as hungry as I’d have expected, while other days I found myself disproportionately starving. The natural consequence of ‘uneven’ nutrition was suboptimal sleep, further impacted by the recent loss of Daylight Saving Time; my circadian rhythm isn’t yet quite locked in to the ‘new normal’, so there were some obscenely early wakeups this week. And because sleep is just about THE most important tool for physical recovery, my body hasn’t ‘felt right’ — I’ve noticed some low-level tweaks and twinges that I don’t normally have. And the icing on the cake is the fact that I’ve now returned to my regular work schedule at my day job (after having taken a little extra PTO during the Open) — which means I’ve still been highly mentally ‘taxed’ this week, just in a different way.

I’m finally feeling more ‘like myself’ today — but I’ve definitely spent the majority of this deload feeling completely disoriented in space and time. Each factor has negatively influenced the next, and I confess, I’ve been longing for the return of regular training as a way to ground myself. I’m craving the heavier work and higher volume; I can’t wait for the delicious weakness in my legs, the denser meals, the ensuing deeper sleep. Starting tomorrow, I’ll get my wish.

But this week was necessary — on a physical level, yes, but also, it’s shown me that I still have some troubleshooting to do with regard to optimizing recovery even in the absence of heavy training. I honestly thought my recoverability was reasonably strong — I play the nutrition game pretty darn well, which goes a long way — but I can see now that some of my other habits are more ‘reactive’ than ‘proactive’. Meaning, when heavy barbells make my legs feel tired, I’ll take an Epsom salt bath. If I notice pain, I’ll go see the PT or the massage therapist. When I’m ridiculously hungry, I’ll make a giant post-workout meal with lots of lean protein and starchy carbs.

But — for example — consistently arranging my day so that I can physically be in bed for 8-9 hours does no good if my body then (for whatever reason) can’t actually REST for that amount of time. Likewise, consistently stocking up on a rainbow of fruits and vegetables isn’t helpful if I lazily default to packaged food when my appetite drops. The habits have to actually manifest into the desired reality — AND they have to stand alone; I can’t depend on the outside stimulus of training to regulate my basic human functions. It’s wonderful to love the process, but RELYING on the process isn’t ideal either.

Show your work. Sometimes it’s a barbell, sometimes it’s a handstand walk… and sometimes it’s a bottle of melatonin.