Strength and speed are my friends. They were my go to fitness mojo. But no more. The times they are a changing.
The issues I’m facing aren’t directly age-related. They’re health related, though obviously there’s a connection. Did you know that by age 60, more than half of people have a hiatal hernia? Until last month, I did not know that either.
Most people are asymptomatic and don’t need to worry about it, but that’s not me.
Now, I know a lot more about the condition and the implications for my fitness life. See You never know when you’ll perform your last heavy deadlift for more.
To be absolutely clear, I’m not asking for medical advice. I have a good doctor. I’m also definitely not giving medical advice. I’m not that kind of doctor. I’m talking about my life, fitness and health experiences. If you think you might have a hiatal hernia please go talk to your doctor.
Back to strength and speed, and changing directions.
I’ve always been good at sprinting and generally good at sports that require bursts of power and strength. In cycling, I’m a sprinter. Many people can ride further than me. Many people can also ride up hills more quickly. However, on the flats, I’m pretty good at short bursts of power.
This was recently confirmed by a Zwift (virtual cycling) assessment of my riding abilities.
See Sam is not shocked by her Zwift baseline camp report, but will she take their advice?
My Zwift baseline report declared my strength as a cyclist was sprinting and that I should work on my endurance.
My strength:

My weakness:

I joked in that post about the likelihood of my giving up my sprinting ways. Now here I am, needing to give up intense efforts on the bike.
Why? Medical advice is to continue exercising with a hiatal hernia, but to avoid heavy lifting and intense aerobic activities. What am I allowed to do? Long, slow endurance efforts. There’s advice out there like this, “Stick with low-impact activities that do not put excessive pressure on your core. You can try walking, swimming, yoga (but only certain poses), or light cycling. ” Light cycling?!?
Also, “high intensity exercises may exacerbate your symptoms.”
Could I become an endurance athlete? Maybe.
Will I die of boredom? Possibly.
Endurance riding would undoubtedly be a reasonable winter training goal. It has the virtue of being a weakness I can work on, and that I’m allowed to work on it. Even Zwift thinks I ought to work on it.
I’ve done a few slow Zwift rides since diagnosis, and they’ve been fine. It’s hard to resist sprinting, though. It’s hard to admit that my “beast” days are over. What’s the alternative? I’ve never been that keen on the “energizer bunny” fitness archetype–you know, those people who can go at moderate pace forever, but maybe I can warm up to it. I have to start to tell new fitness stories.
Until now I’ve associated the move from beast to bunny, with age. Older athletes lose their top end speeds but they can go forever. See On turning 56 and thinking about age and speed.
“There’s a thing that people say about older athletes. They say you lose your peak performance, your top end speeds, your ability to sprint. You keep your endurance. The older athlete can go forever. We just can’t go as fast.
That’s the received wisdom and you hear it from masters athletes themselves.
But the problem is that this isn’t quite true. Studies show that older athletes who lose top end speeds do so because because they stop training for performance at those speeds. They keep the long rides and long runs but drop the speed training. Almost nobody keeps training at 60 as much as they did when they were younger. When they conduct studies and test older athletes responsivity to training, older athlete do make the same kinds of gains they did when they were younger. They just don’t feel like doing it.
What’s missing, it turns out, isn’t the phsyiological ability to respond to training. What’s missing is the desire to train hard.”

I still have the desire to train hard, but it’s not medically advised.
Wish me luck as I transition from beast to bunny!
I guess I was old before my time, or prepared for getting older early, because I’m a lifetime bunny. Welcome to the species.