To know something or to believe it is not the same. Sometimes, we learn against our will.
At least, I did yesterday. That I react sensibly to various things isn't new to me, neither that I tend to hit a metaphorical wall every now and again. I was always the type to push and push my limits... until they eventually pushed back.
The past weeks were... much. Good, mostly. I had good trainings, my progress had been visible and I had enjoyed to begin to feel like a triathlete more and more. In my company, a lot was going on as well: we could install our new lab and do first tests. So far, so great.
However, all this had its price. For me, all that meant: hours and days spent in front of my computer, focus from early in the morning until late at night, training squeezed in somewhere in between, done mostly in a state of fatigue. Bad sleep and too little of it, bad food, forgotten supplements. On the run, permanently.
Friday night it had again been past midnight when I finally switched off my computer and fell into bed, more dead than alive and knowing that I would get up again not 6hrs later to do our first official test at the lab. About two hours later, I started learning against my will.
I don't want to go into details, but what my body did to me in that night on an hourly basis had about as much in common with "gastro-intestinal problems" as would have describing the surface of the sun as "warm". The final trigger must have been that I had eaten something my stomach or rather my intestines did not agree with. The dizziness causing pains would speak for it. And instead of letting whatever caused them pass through an already tormented system, my body seemed to decide: out with it, the way it came in.
The whole day was passing behind a veil... I could not eat nor drink a lot and I couldn't keep more than a bit of rusk and coke in my system. I was in pain, dehydrated and so worn out that a mere short phone call exhausted me beyond imagination.
Today, I'm a bit better - physically. In the mental department, those past 24 hours have left their marks... because immediately, they are back: the doubts. The past three weeks haven't been glorious in terms of training... and there isn't much time left to be prepared for Copenhagen... will I be back in shape until then? Or was this a sign that I'm not there yet? Will I be able to pick up training again next week, or will I be knocked out for a while? Are the 3kg I lost really just water, or did it cost me valuable substance?
Doubts aren't a pretty thing, however in sports, they are omnipresent. I will make the best of it.