Theories on Fatigue
One of the interesting take aways I got out of reading "Hell on 2 Wheels" was the author's summary of the various studies on fatigue and pain thresholds. Most people can't tolerate the pain associated with having their hands in ice water for more than a minute, and I bet the majority of the readers of this blog get fatigued after laboring through just two of my paragraphs. Yet the somehow the hardy souls who race across the US can endure unimaginable pain and can transcend the all consuming fatigue for 8 to 12 never-ending days. So how can they do it?
I know nothing about cars and don't care to learn about them either. Yet for some reason after digesting the information summarized in "Hell on 2 Wheels" I've packaged it all up in the following car analogy. Those few who do succeed at the RAAM are those who can somehow keep the "Check Engine" light from ending their ride.
The RAAM isn't just a fun adventure ride; the guys who end up on the podium hold a pace that most causal riders couldn't sustain even for an hour! Most engines would go kaput if taxed at even a fraction of the power generated by the likes of 5 time RAAM winner (and now tragically deceased) Jure Robic. So clearly one element in avoiding the dreaded check engine light is to have high-powered, uber-efficient engine.
And of course, regular fueling and maintenance are essential -- it doesn't matter how fast and powerful a rider might be if they neglect to fuel up regularly with high-octane gas. Upwards of 8,000 calories need to be consumed per day to propel them across on their trek! Those that don't consume enough and/or the right calories don't last very long without an engine malfunction.
But of more interest to me were the scientific studies highlighted in the book that focused on what people did once that check engine light inevitably started to flicker. There are some that try their best to place duct tape across their car dashboard. If a check engine light can't shine through the duct tape, then there's no indication that you're in trouble and you keep speeding along. That's a risky approach if you ask me, and odds are that you'll ignore something that results in a catastrophic failure of your engine (and the tales of the RAAM are littered with such disastrous endings).
There was also information shared on strategies to calm yourself once the check engine light began to shine. Rather than immediately panicking and pulling to the side of the road to call AAA for service, the successful riders were able to do things like tapping their fingers or creating mental images of success. These techniques either distracted or calmed the rider rather than let the warning signs consume their brains and force them into an immediate reaction. (I've since employed the finger tapping technique myself over the last week.)
The thing that I found the most interesting though were the theories on what causes someone to through the towel in after too much suffering with the check engine light on. Some have theorized that it is strictly a biological function -- once a specific condition occurs in the engine (notice how generic that condition is -- I know nothing about cars!) and it starts emitting smoke, you have no choice but to immediately pull to the break down lane. But others have theorized that there isn't a fixed threshold that would trigger one to throw in the towel, but instead, there's an active decision making process taking place in the brain evaluating the return on investment achieved by incurring more suffering.
If you are out on a Sunday morning drive with no obvious destination (e.g. a training ride without any structure), then the ROI on continuing on with the check engine light on is low, and you'll pull immediately off the high-way. However, if you're 10 miles from driving to your big job interview, you might decide to pass by the service station even though the check engine light has been on for the last 30 minutes. Perhaps the engine melts-down before you get to the destination (and you in fact kept going beyond the biological fatigue threshold/trigger), but your brain decided that the goal is worth the chance you're taking.
End of the Road
So why the extended dissertation on fatigue? My check engine light has been shining brightly over the last week. Over the last 12 weeks I have gone to the gym to pulverize my legs three times a week (in addition to my riding of course). Each week I've added either more sets and/or more weight to my reps, even during supposed "rest weeks" (where I cut back on the cycling, but not the gym). The muscular fatigue never ceased, and only grew.
By Wednesday of last week, I seriously toyed with the idea of actually skipping a work-out. And yesterday, as I slowly worked my aching legs up the stairs to the gym, my legs felt as limber as steel beams. I am almost embarrassed to say that I started thinking of ways I might want to "cheat" on reps and sets to ease the suffering. If I had to go again to the gym today, I imagine that old ladies could push more metal than me.
There's no doubt that I had reached a point where I decided I could no longer ignore the check engine light, and I needed to get off the weight lifting highway and shut things down. I feel as if even looking at an image of a barbell right now would hit me with enough force such that I collapsed in exhaustion.
Fortunately that won't happen, as yesterday was the final day of lifting for the winter training plan given to me by Coach Bobby. But I have to wonder -- did the Coach give me such a perfect plan that truly took me to my limit of fatigue? Or, did I become so fixated on the check engine light because subliminally I knew that I was at my final (weight-lifting) destination and that there was no return on investment for additional suffering?
In any case, I'm certainly glad to now have the gym work-outs in the rear-view mirror.
