Overtraining Syndrome
I’ve spent the last three weeks examining, questioning, and accepting my DNF from Cocodona 250. I never thought I would be a person who stopped running a race by choice. So, as I’ve been stating in many previous posts, I’m learning all I can from the experience. In my many retrospectives, plenty of things stand out. I wasn’t super excited on the start line. I wasn’t enjoying the race experience from mile 1; my headspace was poor. I should have done more pre-race work with my crew and on a mental game plan.
However, that’s only part of the story. I kept coming back to: But why didn’t I have any energy?
The best part of my race was probably between Crown King and Whiskey Row. I started to have a little fun, I chatted to a few runners, and ran with Jeff. The best moment was a gorgeous sunset, dancing along on the trail by myself, singing to my playlist.
But as I left Camp Wamatochick, things just felt hard. Yes, I had 60+ miles on my legs, but I just felt empty. Nothing to pull from. My right shin hurt a little, but I mostly ran slowly because I couldn’t get a good extension going in my form, and I was tired. And hungry.
At Whiskey Row, I ate a wrap with avocado and veggie sausage…I taped up my shin. And I still didn’t want to run. Jogging made me feel a bit lightheaded. I stopped to sit and eat another sausage, “Sometimes just one thing at a time,” I told my pacer. I wondered aloud as we walked along a perfectly runnable path, “Am I slowing down ‘cause now I have someone to support me, and I don’t have to make myself run?”
I won’t rehash every step of my ~190 miles again, but these past few weeks I kept coming back to the same question above: Where was my energy? It wasn’t just that I mentally lacked motivation to run or that I had no heart to push myself. I genuinely couldn't fathom the thought of running more, and when I tried, I would feel tired, nauseous, and empty. I never got too lightheaded or dizzy (thought I certainly had bouts of both), mostly just Bleh. Depleted.
As the tears dried up and I started to run again, I felt terrible. This made me stop and think. Wait a minute, haven’t I been stiff since at least February? When I say stiff, I mean STIFF. As in, get up off the couch after a couple of minutes of sitting and be limping on the first few steps. Oh yeah. That’s not normal for me.
And wait a minute, didn’t I get sore just from carrying a backpack on one shoulder? Sore for DAYS. The simple act of carrying something wrong wrecked me. I had no reserves with which to recover from some tiny muscle tears, I just didn’t pay attention at the time. I thought maybe I was just getting old. I was tired, I was stressed.
Hmmm…
I posted in Women in Ultrarunning and got some good feedback (try magnesium and creatine!) And when I finally put it to my coach, we realized: Overtraining Syndrome.
From the Cleveland Clinic. Reading this was like a checklist for me the past couple of months.
Wait a minute, I’ve also been sleeping poorly for weeks. I’ve been anxious and annoyed*. I haven’t been eating as much as normal because I’m not as hungry. Didn’t I get lightheaded during the Cocodona training run? Oh yeah…
All of these things crept up on me, and I didn’t put them together or pay them the attention they deserved. That is a huge lesson for me. It’s ok to be stiff after a long run, but hardly being able to stand upright after a rest day? Yeah, not good.
One or two nights of poor sleep, ok that’s life. Most nights being up for 2-3 hours in the middle of the night? Not good either.
Some say there is no such thing as overtraining, only underfueling. And while I do try hard to eat enough, I could easily count big efforts in recent months that I just didn’t eat enough after. I didn’t plan ahead and bring more food, I didn’t advocate that I needed to eat, and I just let it go. I could eat later. I was tough enough to wait.
Recognizing that I was likely between Stages 1 and 2 of OTS was good. And hard. (I say “likely” as this is a self-assessment; I have not been to see a doctor yet, or had recent blood work done. If I continue to feel poorly and don’t improve with more rest and nutrition, I will make an appointment.)
Good because now I have things to work on and I’m already feeling better! Amazing what sleep and a couple extra snacks in a day will do for you (on top of more rest days and reduced volume, more cross-training, etc.) It’s like those times when you are so sick you can’t remember what it’s like to feel well. I forgot what it was like to not be exhausted and locked up in my body. I keep telling people, “Wow, I just feel normal again.” I remember, “Oh yeah, running is hard, but it’s not THAT hard.”
What has been hard is admitting this “weakness” (in my mind) of overtraining. The voices of comparison are hard to block out. But other runners crush races while working in an ER. You can’t handle working a job AND training? How lame are you? Other people run 100-mile weeks or get up at 3am to fit in workouts. I seemingly can’t manage serious training with a job at a small school. Wow, I must suck.
In an effort to combat these voices, I try to remember: everyone is different. It IS a big change to go from fitting work around running to running around work. That is new to me, and I need to adjust to it. I also remind myself of what I put in some of my previous posts. I was not only working full-time and training for a major race in a pretty full-time capacity, I also volunteered with four nonprofits and tried to maintain other extracurricular activities with friends.
For at least ten months, I’ve been pouring time and energy into other people, their projects, groups, activities, and events. Yes, many of them I love and was happy to do this. Some, not as much. But I find it hard to say no and kept piling on commitments. I said to one friend in March, “I’m almost at capacity.” I can look back and see I was already well underwater.
So the overtraining comes more from over-living. Too many commitments and people asking for my time, and me giving it to them. I have gotten way more comfortable post-DNF saying, “No, thanks.” Or “These are my rates for that work.” Or, “Actually, I need to prioritize rest right now, so I won’t be around until the afternoon.”
Wow! People are understanding of this! Who knew!
Because it’s not about whether I have an extra 20 minutes each day to do some task or make another phone call, it’s about the mental space and energy that takes up. Or that those 20 minutes belong to me and I can use them for me.
I am still 100% confident in my choice to stop the race. It is clear now that the reason I was struggling is that my body was signaling my brain, “We need to stop. We have nothing more to give. This is not sustainable.”
With a super-strong mental game, could I have pushed through this? Possibly. Would that have been a good idea? Who knows. Right now, I am thankful I am not 60 miles deeper into a hole. I finally listened. And now I’m paying much more attention to what I need to do to take care of myself.
Was the DNF for a physical reason or a mental one? As my dad used to say, “Probably six of one, half a dozen of the other.” Also, it doesn’t really matter. I am learning from both and getting stronger in both. So that is a 100% win.
I am back to looking forward to a run instead of feeling like, “Gotta go do this thing.” I am being slow, gentle, and intentional with every workout. Snacks and good meals are a focus. Not feeling guilty for watching Netflix or listening to a podcast in bed when I have time to rest is a challenge, but I’m working on it. It is ok to slow down. To rest. To reset. To make sure there is joy in the things we do.
Overtraining (undereating), whatever, can really sneak up on you. I slowly descended to the point where I forgot I could feel good, and it was my right to make that happen. There is a challenge in that this feeling is entirely subjective and experienced by me. I look fine. I was hiking 3 miles an hour easily before I stopped. But I didn’t feel fine. After the race, a gentle swim sent my legs into so much pain I could hardly fall asleep. A steep downhill turned my legs into Jell-O. I know that this is not how I should feel after such efforts. So I am making changes to heal.
Pay attention, listen when your body is speaking to you. And honor what it says.
As part of my looking forward, unless there is a major update, this will be my last Cocodona 2026 post. I don’t want to wear out a subject or come across as complaining. But I do want to highlight my experience for others so they can be on the lookout for any of these symptoms! For now: Onward and upward.
*As an anxious and emotional person generally, it is hard to know how much more my mood was affected by OTS, but I do feel more relaxed and focused on this side of recovery.