Sportiva Retreats

And yes, it was stupid. But it also made complete sense in the moment. Here’s why:

It’s Day 1 of my period, and I’m a hormonal man in a woman’s body for 48 hours.

And like every man with access to peak testosterone pathways and no concept of consequences, I made a stupid fucking decision.

Let’s break this down properly.

On Day 1 of your period, your reproductive hormones are essentially at rock bottom. Estrogen? Tanked. Progesterone? MIA. Your body isn’t juggling inflammation or managing fluid shifts. Au contraire, it is focused, streamlined, responsive. Without estrogen holding onto water or progesterone raising your core temperature and interfering with recovery, your system becomes a high-performance machine. Leaner. Colder. Calmer. Sharper.

Wait, if your brain works better with bullet points, I gotchu baby:

• No estrogen to retain fluid → Less bloating, more muscle definition, better thermoregulation
• No progesterone to increase core temp or dampen performance → You’re cooler, calmer, quicker
• Your body is no longer juggling systemic inflammation, which it normally does throughout the luteal phase (thanks, progesterone). This frees up more energy and focus for performance, not hormone management

Translation?
You’re basically a hormonally simplified version of a man.
No hormonal drag. No bloating. No PMS chaos. Just pure output.

And when you’re someone who lives for challenge, who’s a little too curious for their own good, and just wants to see what happens when you press a bit harder, that version of yourself becomes dangerous.

But here’s the reality:

Taper week is not your playground. I knew I was five days out from race day. I knew it was the exact wrong time to test anything. Taper week is a strategic reduction of training load to allow for supercompensation—that’s where your body finishes repairing all the micro-damage you did in the past weeks and comes back stronger, fresher, and primed for performance.

I knew this. But I ignored it. I felt fast, so I ran at whatever pace you see there on my Strava screenshot (I’m not even gonna mention it…). Just me and my compulsion to breach limits and peek into consequences. And now, let’s talk about what I might have actually done.

The cost of my little science experiment?

Let’s talk about the risks for my Rotterdam Marathon performance:

CNS Fatigue

The central nervous system (CNS) – your brain-to-muscle highway – governs everything from coordination to muscle recruitment. If you fry it, say, with an unnecessarily hard run during taper, your legs don’t hurt, they just feel… muted.
That “dead legs” feeling? That’s CNS fatigue: just dulls your legs like wet cement.

Type IIA Muscle Fiber Damage

These are your fast oxidative fibers. They’re your best friends at kilometre 32 when your body’s falling apart and you need muscle endurance and efficiency to hold pace. They’re supposed to be my closing act. And I just used mine up. For no reason.

Glycogen Depletion

And of course, the fuel problem. I dipped into my glycogen stores: the same ones I need stocked and locked for race day. That kind of effort five days out forces your body to go into recovery mode just when it should be entering priming mode (aka getting ready to be used). Now I have to rush-load carbs (not totally mad about this ‘cos mmmmh mashed potatoes) and hope I haven’t confused the system.

The worst part?

The worst part isn’t even the damage. It’s that moment right after. The flush of clarity. The infamous post-nut moment men get when they realize they’ve made a bad call. When the haze lifts and you suddenly see your actions for what they are.. You cannot go back baby.

So, as I was panicking, I forced myself to finally take tapering week and recovery seriously and make a salvage plan:

Tuesday:

Post-run chips, guac & salt. in bed, vibing to music, writing my lessons to you, not setting the alarm for tomorrow. 9 hours of sweet sleep. No apologies. Just recovery.

Wednesday:

No running. Heavy silence, which I’m so allergic to. Let the system recalibrate. Let the fatigue metabolize.

Thursday:

25-minute jog, just enough to check for leftover fire. Nothing more. No ego pressing on my temples.

Friday:

Leg compression machine* (Normatec) and some mild foam rolling.

Saturday:

Shakeout jog around the streets of Rotterdam. Just enough to get the blood moving. Without trying to prove anything.

Leg compression machines*

These machines deliver intermittent pneumatic pressure while wrapped around your tired legs, pulsing gently, rhythmically. Blood flow is helped back toward the heart, flushing out the leftovers: lactate, inflammation, all the invisible junk that sits heavy in muscles and quietly judges me for my impulsive taper-week sins.

It’s physiological housekeeping, stimulating the lymphatic system, quietly clearing fluid buildup, resetting the tired fibres.

And maybe even more importantly, these slow, repetitive squeezes persuade the nervous system back into parasympathetic peace. Rest-and-digest. Calming my spinning taper mind.

No miracles here, just a gentle, scientific apology to my body for pushing too hard.

---

If you’re wired like me – Welcome to Sportiva

High-functioning, a little obsessed, cerebrally curious? You’ll recognize this exact trap. Feeling strong and assuming that means you should prove something. Wanting to test limits in every area of life: in work, in love, in training. It’s the kind of wiring that leads to mistakes I’m destined to make, so you don’t have to.

But here’s what you need to know: strength is not proven in the week before your marathon. Strength is proven in the restraint you show when your body begs you to go and you say not yet.

Let the race reflect your preparation, not your impulses.

I promise it’s worth more than any mid-week ego trip.

See you at the start line.

• Protected: Build up running stamina + cycle syncing
• Friends That Drink and the Loneliness Tax
• Full Marathon Tapering
• Half Marathon Tapering
• From 4:11 to 3:42: What Actually Works for a Marathon Performance Leap