Running Update #1 – Baby Steps and Toe Yoga

Posted on February 7, 2018 by Syd Schulz

A few of you have been asking for an update on my knee, and some others have inquired about how my 2018 goal of returning to running is going — so I figured I would mush both of those questions into one update post. Here goes.

To read the last installment of “wtf is wrong with Syd’s knee” — Knee Update + Advice for Anyone Dealing with Chronic Injuries — click here.

Basically, my knee is still my knee. Which is to say, I have no idea how to answer these questions. At the moment — like right now this very instant — it seems to be happy. I’m starting to ride more after a few months focused on strength work, core stability and mental health, and, well, so far so good. I’ve been riding my dirt bike more frequently, and last weekend Macky and I snow-shoe hiked 3,000 vertical feet in three miles, which was pretty insane and something that in the past would have probably meant IMMEDIATE KNEE BLOW-OUT.

Got all the way up here on my own two knees.

Or, like, maybe not because my knee is notoriously unpredictable with these things. And therein lies the problem. I have a lot of ideas about what makes my knee irritated — front squats, long drives, walking on concrete, running, hiking downhill, standing in line for extended periods of time, telling someone my knee is better — but the reality is that those things only sometimes cause me problems. This results in a lot of anxiety and fretting over “should I do this” “should I do that” blother blather blither, not to mention a lot of 20/20 hindsight. And of course, ironically, avoiding all potential triggers for my knee has made it weaker and more likely to be triggered. KIND OF A LOSE-LOSE SITUATION, AMIRITE?

The point of the above paragraph is that I haven’t been writing updates on this issue because, while I am cautiously optimistic, I have no effing clue.

But in the interest of transparency and the hopes that maybe my process can help some others, here’s what I’ve been doing to get my knee ready to try running again:

1. CORE STRENGTH, STABILITY + MOTOR CONTROL — After my flare-up in November, my physical therapist Dane (from Revo PT and Performance in Boulder) and I decided to take a big step back to the basics with my strength program. Since starting to work with Dane in 2016, I had gained a TON of strength but unfortunately beneath all that strength I had some fundamental motor control issues, largely thanks to tip-toeing around my knee and toe issues for the past nine years. So for the past two months, I’ve been doing box jumps, lateral hops, step-ups and HEAPS of core work. The jury is still out as to whether this is fixing my knee, but it isn’t hurting it (and I’m not going to lie, i had some SERIOUS doubts about what would happen when I started doing jumps and hops, so this is good progress…).

2. TOE YOGA, INSOLES + CALF STRENGTH — For the past two years, we have spent a lot of time focused on my hips. My hip mobility was definitely a contributing issue to my knee problems, but now that it’s gotten a lot better, it’s clear that there is more going on. The next frontier? Ankle mobility, calf strength and toe dexterity. As Dane told me, most cyclists with anterior knee pain like mine can resolve their issues by improving hip mobility, but I’m special. I guess in this case being special is not great, but one positive is that I have learned a TON about body awareness and proprioception.

So I’ve installed some new insoles in my bike shoes, I’m doing some calf strengthening exercises and I’ve started a daily toe yoga practice. This is not as exciting as it sounds (er, does it sound exciting?), and mainly involves me staring at my toes and willing them to move in ways they are not inclined to move. But, you know, baby steps. Or in this case, baby toe twitches.

3. TAPING, STRETCHING + FOAM ROLLING — Basically, just continuing what I’ve been doing with a good stretching practice, daily foam rolling of my cranky quads and keeping my knee taped with RockTape to relieve some of the pressure on the patellar tendon. None of these are fixes in and of themselves, but they are all incredibly necessary. If I’ve learned anything from this process, it’s that the little things done consistently are actually the biggest things.

New kicks and rainbow rocktape!

Sooooo…..what about the running thing? I got the go ahead from Dane to start incorporating VERY short runs (like, 30 seconds of running, 30 seconds of walking), but it’s going to be a slow process. At the moment, I’m focusing on getting back into riding, continuing with core and motor control work, and adjusting to my new bike shoes and a few other set-up tweaks. Not much good can come from rushing this process, but hopefully I’ll have a running update for you sometime in the next few months.

Knee Update + Some Words for Anyone Dealing With Chronic Injuries

Posted on November 29, 2017 by Syd Schulz

Pay attention. Keep paying attention.

That has been my mantra for the past few days…

When you’re struggling, PAY ATTENTION.

We all have different coping mechanisms when faced with injuries or a bad race or basically life not working out perfectly. Some people get angry. Some get mean. Others get depressed. Still others stick their heads in the sand and pretend it isn’t happening. No wait, those are ostriches.

Guys, I’m an ostrich. When things go to shit, I bury my head six inches deep and keep up a resounding chorus of LA LA LA LA LA CAN’T HEAR YOU LA LA LA to keep the demons at bay. And then, when I finally get over myself and decide to face up to things — retroactively, of course — I write a dramatic blog post. (Do ostriches blog?)

It’s not the worst of coping mechanisms, but it’s still pretty bad. And this strategy has already failed me a few times with my current struggle — my knee. I know, I know. You’re really tired of hearing about my left knee. Believe me, I am also tired of hearing/thinking/talking/writing about my damn left knee.

That’s why this post isn’t entirely about that — it’s also about paying attention, even (ESPECIALLY) when paying attention sucks.

This is a metaphorical photo from last year, because rainbow.

Let me tell you a little story about last winter. I was in Scotland, having basically the best time ever. I was training a lot. Going to the gym. Writing regularly. Being really diligent with just about everything in my life. And then I blew up my knee with some dastardly combination of front squats and steep Scottish fire road climbs. It was not terribly surprising, nor was it the end of the world, although it rather felt like it at the time. But here’s the worst of it — I shut down. Completely. For like three weeks.

I was really upset, sure, and in a fair bit of pain (serious tendinitis is really underrated — I would rather break bones) but that’s no excuse. I just stopped doing EVERYTHING because it was too emotionally painful to think about my goals. I felt like I was going backwards and that my life was over and blah blah blah, so I spent my days reading novels and turning my brain completely off. I stopped communicating with my coach. I stopped writing on this blog. I buried my head in the proverbial sand, which in this case looked a lot more like $40 worth of mystery novels on Kindle.

I realized recently, now that I’m dealing with my knee again, that I have no records of that time. I have a vague idea of how long it took for the acute inflammation to die down, but I don’t really know for sure, because I didn’t deem that as important information to record. But damn, it would be really helpful to know right about now.

I have come a long way since last February. The 2016-17 off-season was a difficult one for me in a lot of ways, and most of my issues originated between my ears. I’m in a better place now, and I no longer see my knee pain as a harbinger of doom. While I’m fairly frustrated on a short-term level (as it’s ruining some fun plans for this week, for example), I’m not having an existential crisis, so that’s a step in the right direction. And, as I mentioned in my last post, I’ve gotten better at acknowledging when a flare is coming on and taking steps to mitigate it — so I’m cautiously optimistic that I won’t be sidelined for quite as long this time.

But, despite all that, I’m still really struggling to pay attention, to not check out. There is still a part of me that feels like if I ignore the problem that it will go away. And then there’s the fatalistic part of me that feels like acknowledging the extent to which my knee is bothering me — recording pain levels in my training journal, emailing my poor physical therapist for like the 40th time this week — is giving it too much power. I know that’s a little ridiculous, but there it is.

Here’s the problem — as athletes (and as human beings), we do ourselves a disservice when we check out the moment things aren’t going our way. I’ve been guilty of this many, many times and the irony is that that checked-outed-ness (#sorrynotsorry) usually ends up making me more unhappy than whatever the bad situation was in the first place. Because there is really nothing I hate worse than that feeling of not progressing, not growing, not caring.

Not caring is a coping mechanism — a shield for when caring is painful — but ultimately it ends up being a double whammy of negativity because, for better or for worse, I do care, and no amount of pretending otherwise will change that.

Recently, when I’ve been frustrated or sad or angry about my knee, I’ve been forcing myself to acknowledge those emotions instead of blocking out everything, and to get to the root of WHY I am feeling that way, and how I can use that as fuel, instead of an excuse to give up. In truth, there are plenty of things I can do right now that don’t involve riding but that will still contribute to making me a better athlete — and a big one is to try to use this time to figure out as much as I can about what’s going on with my injury, as frustrating and discouraging as that process is. Reminding myself that this time is not wasted, but rather, a necessary, if inconvenient, part of my growth as an athlete, has helped immensely.

So, the next time you’re struggling with an injury, try reminding yourself to pay attention. Take notes on how you’re feeling, both mentally and physically. It will help you put things into perspective — and be a helpful resource for the next time you find yourself in a similar situation. Then you’ll be able to tell yourself “hey, I always get massively grumpy on the third day of sitting around resting and doing nothing, this too shall pass.” I promise you, just knowing that will help.

Step Forward, Step Back

Posted on February 23, 2017 by Syd Schulz

Our first three weeks in Scotland felt like a dream. I was riding better than I ever have. I was hitting power numbers that I had never seen before. I was going to the gym, doing my intervals and putting in four or five hour rides on the best trails in the world. And I felt fantastic. The last time I was in Scotland, I spent most of my rides sliding down hills on my butt and trying to pretend I was not crying when I [finally] reunited with the group. This time, while I was hardly riding flawlessly, I wasn’t scared anymore.

And then the wheels started to fall off the bus. I got a cold. My knee started to hurt. I kept riding and my knee hurt more. Then finally, with five days left in our trip, I was forced to acknowledge the situation and stop riding.

Oh. This again. Seems familiar. Yes, I am definitely getting a whiff of deja-fucking-vu here.

My ability to make the same mistakes over and over again with my knee is truly remarkable. Every time, I manage to justify it to myself and rationalize it and I keep riding and hope the problem will go away. I’ve put in a lot of work over the past six months, and I’ve made a lot of progress with this injury and with my fitness, mobility and strength — this progress is thanks entirely to my coach Daniel and Dane at Revo PT and zero thanks whatsoever to my dumb ass.

So, there I was, stuck in Scotland and unable to ride my bike. FML. I realize, in the whole scheme of life hardships, this is pretty low down on the list of “bad things that can happen to a person.” I did get four weeks of amazing riding in, after all. That said, I managed to react as if I had been delivered a death sentence. I spent three days in bed, alternating sobbing about my knee with watching Samantha Bee episodes and sobbing about the fate of America. WHAT IS THE WORLD COMING TO am i right. Basically I was the picture of resiliency and overcoming setbacks with grace. Yeah, just kidding, I was a fucking disaster.

So. Two steps forward. One step back. I know this is how it works. I get it. The path to success is not a straight-ass freeway lined with pansies. It’s a squiggly line that looks like it was drawn by a toddler, or in my case, a gerbil on methamphetamines. I get that, I really, really do. But, seriously, sweet jebuus, what does it take to catch a break around here?

Source: Demetri Martin

The worst thing about setbacks is that you don’t get to choose which ones you get. I’m decent at dealing with certain types of failure (getting rejected by a sponsor, getting last in a race, etc.), but I’m really, really bad at dealing with chronic, nagging injury. Every time my injury flares up, my patience for it, and my ability to deal with the situation is less than the time before. This particular instance seems to be shaping up to be fairly minor (fingers crossed!), but my reaction to it was worse than it’s ever been. I basically imploded into a soggy, sad wad of self pity. It was bad. So bad, in fact, that I’m only writing about it here in the hopes that the next time this happens, somewhere in my pathetic, miserable brain a voice will say “hey, maybe you shouldn’t act like such a twat, because your future self is going to put this all over the internet.”

I spent almost an entire week disengaging from this problem, feeling sorry for myself, and generally just wishing things were different. It was a stupid, cataclysmic reaction to a stupid, not-cataclysmic problem, but I’m putting things back together now, re-engaging, committing to showing up and doing what it takes to be stronger, fitter, faster.

The truth is I got a little complacent with my knee issues — I got to the point where I could ride my bike, survive long rides, train hard and do gym workouts. In the process, I kind of forgot that I still have a lot of mobility issues that aren’t going to go away on their on. It’s complicated, but basically my movement on the bike, or in the gym while I’m super focused, is pretty good — but for non-linear stuff, or even just, ya know, WALKING, I’m kind of in bad shape and have been for awhile. I told myself last May that I was going to fix all this, but really all I wanted to do was get back on my bike and race. Now, I’m forcing myself to take a longer term perspective and deal with some things BEFORE the situation gets as bad as it was last season. Hopefully. We’ll see how it goes.

The fun begins with a dry needling session at REVO in Boulder. Hurts so good.

While I really, really wish I could get six months of uninterrupted training, I am starting to accept that maybe this is just how it is, that maybe my body needs this rest, and my brain will be stronger for learning how to deal. It’s so tempting to fall into a spiral of “what if”s and “if only”s. I find myself constantly wondering how fast I would be if I hadn’t been dealing with this issue for nearly two years, what results I might have achieved if I didn’t have this problem, but these are the wrong questions — I need to start asking what I can achieve with this body, because it looks like it’s the only one I’m going to get.

What Doesn’t Kill You…

Posted on May 11, 2016 by Syd Schulz

Makes you stronger??? Or, you know, not.

The last month has been rough. Like, seriously, I don’t know what I did to piss April off, but it certainly retaliated with a vengeance. My bike got stolen. I got a cold. I randomly broke out in hives. I was basically unable to ride my bike for the entire month due to a re-occurring knee injury that has been bothering me for over a year now. And because of that, I had to pull out of the Enduro Cup in Moab, which was one of my favorite races last year.

And those were the things that I had no control over. I also did a terrible job with the one thing I could control — my attitude. Basically, I’ve spent the past three weeks walking around like the sky was crashing around my ears. I’m not going to say that this was entirely unjustified, as it’s really shitty when all your plans for your *perfect* season suddenly go up in flames, but it certainly wasn’t helpful, or productive, or nice for the people who had to put up with me. (Sorry, Macky.)

The problem is — I hate hate HATE these kind of injuries. I wouldn’t say I’m great at dealing with any type of injury (what athlete is?), but outside of anything seriously life-threatening, nagging, long-term, inexplicable injuries are the WORST. And I know, because I’ve had a lot of them. There is something about an injury with no discernible cause and no timeline that is just frustrating, infuriating and, oddly enough, kind of embarrassing. Embarrassing because when your knee hurts for no reason it’s hard to not feel like there’s something wrong with you. Especially when, ostensibly, you’re doing everything right. I’ve seen three physical therapists in the past year. I’ve seen an osteopath and an orthopaedic surgeon. I’m not overtraining. I stretch, I ice, I heat, I tape. I’ve done yoga and strength training. For what it’s worth, I’ve gotten about 100 times stronger since this problem started. And yes, since everyone and their mother feels the need to suggest this, I use arnica. (I swear, if you show up to a bike race with an amputated limb, someone will tell you to put arnica on it. For f&*k’s sake, people, give it a rest with the arnica.)

The one thing I haven’t done — and this is entirely on me — is listen to my body. I am far too good at riding, training and racing through pain. I don’t trust my own pain signals unless they are so bad that I can’t get out of bed. If I had a dollar for every time I’ve said something along the lines of “it doesn’t feel good, but I don’t think I’d call it pain” or “yeah, I guess it hurts, but it’s not really pain” in the past year, I’d be a rich woman. I honestly don’t know what I thought pain was. Guys, the purpose of pain in your body is not to cripple you. It’s a message. It’s trying to tell you something and that something is almost always YOU’RE DOING SOMETHING WRONG, ASSHOLE.

But what about “no pain, no gain,” you say. What about “what doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger.” Doesn’t pain make you tough? Isn’t being an athlete supposed to hurt? As a high school athlete, I was in pain for four solid years. I walked up stairs backwards for my entire track and cross country seasons because my calves were so sore, and I thought that was entirely normal — good, even. I was told that meant I had crushed a workout, that I was tough, that I was doing something right. And you know what? It did make me tough. It also made me slow. You don’t get faster when you’re training through pain. You just don’t. It’s stupid. I didn’t know better then, but now I do, so there’s really no excuse. The saying should be “no gain with pain,” because what doesn’t kill you, often makes you slow and tired frustrated and PISSED OFF.

I really didn’t want to write this post, but I’m doing it anyway, because I think it’s important. While I’m comfortable talking about my bad race results and my crashes and my insecurities on this blog, talking about injuries makes me feel horribly, horribly vulnerable. It makes me feel weak, which is ironic, because it was my fear of appearing weak that led me to ignore these underlying issues for far too long. Nobody wants to be the kid who’s always pulling out of races for some mysterious, undiagnosed, largely-invisible problem. It sucks. But as a professional athlete, or a blogger, or really anyone who vomits their entire life onto the internet — you don’t get to just slink away and pretend like everything’s hunky-dory. You can’t. You can’t hide on race day, either. You have to get out there and take pictures and be supportive and answer everyone’s questions about why you’re not racing, because, unless you’re on life support, it’s your goddamn job to be there. And, honestly, that sucks. Last weekend sucked. I did everything I could to try to be decent race support for Macky, and I’m immensely proud of him for his awesome result, but it still kind of sucked.

The good news, of course, is that I will be fine. I think I’m getting to the root of the problem, and while it will take some patience, and while I certainly wouldn’t have chosen to deal with this *now*, I will be better off for dealing with it. Oh and it won’t kill me. It might even make me stronger.

But, here’s the important bit — it’s not the pain that’s going to make me stronger. In fact, it’s kind of the opposite. It’s the willingness to admit weakness, to slow down, to relearn basic things and take the time to build better foundations. That — that’s what will make me stronger. Ultimately, ignoring pain is easy. Acknowledging it, fixing it — that makes you tough.