Cycling Tips: Altitude
Altitude Adjustment
By
Mark Harrison
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©Jean Francois Podevin
The Saturday after moving to Denver, I was out for my first ride on the bike path to Chatfield Reservoir. I spun easy for the first half, but on the way home I began passing riders on hybrids, parents with kids in tow--anyone on two wheels I could use as a carrot. Then I picked the wrong carrot.
Two female bike messengers in cutoff shorts rode ahead of me--one on a steel fixie that was two sizes too big and the other on a tanklike cyclocross bike with slicks.
The path had no grade to speak of, but every time it dipped to an underpass or ducked into a tight bend, a few bike lengths would open between the messengers and me. Pretty soon, I was hunched low in my drops, my lungs starting to sear, the sight of their whirring spoke cards inciting nausea. And then they dropped me.
Back at my apartment, I stared into my bathroom mirror and saw a salt-flaked, hollowed-out version of the person who, just a week earlier in eastern Pennsylvania, could sit in a pack of local pros and former Olympians at a weekly training race.
I thought I'd feel better after a few rides. No such luck. Every ride ended the same way: with a big bonk. I knew that moving to the Mile-High City would put a damper on my training, but it felt as if my fitness had literally disappeared into thin air.
Desperate for help, I turned to Jay T. Kearney, Ph.D., an advisor to the U.S. Olympic Committee who has worked for more than 10 years with elite athletes and adaptation to altitude. He assured me that my pathetic performance was not unique. In fact, most athletes who move to higher altitudes face several physiological effects that leave them panting and wheezing.
Kearney first explained that thin air isn't actually thin. "The percentage of oxygen in the air is the same at the top of Mt. Everest as it is when you're standing next to the Dead Sea," Kearney says. No matter the altitude, the amount of oxygen molecules in the air is about 21 percent.
As altitude increases, though, atmospheric pressure decreases--and when it comes to exercising (and just plain living), low pressure takes its toll. Gases such as oxygen are less dense at a lower pressure. That means you have to breathe harder and faster to bring the amount of oxygen to your blood and muscle cells that you're accustomed to at sea level. Hyperventilation triggers the fight-or-flight response, sending the body into a downward spiral: Your resting heart rate is elevated, you perspire more and you recover slower.
Luckily, the body begins to adapt to the lower pressure after three to four weeks at altitude. Kearney says there is considerable variability in the way individuals respond to altitude. In other words, some people suffer longer, while others adapt faster.
Adaptation begins with the kidneys ramping up their natural production of the hormone erythropoietin (EPO, but not the synthetic doping brand). EPO thickens the blood with a greater percentage of oxygen-carrying red blood cells. Each breath still brings in fewer oxygen molecules than at sea level, but the body learns to process a greater percentage of that oxygen into energy. Meanwhile, the extra breaths you've been taking can help your lungs grow slightly. The adaptation basically gives you what I've wanted since reading X-Men #226 in the third grade: a mutant power for superhuman breathing.
I've been in Colorado for a little more than a year now, and while I've yet to cross paths with those same messengers again, I've regained most of the form that seemed to evaporate when I first arrived. I can ride at 12,000 feet without feeling like I'm going to faint, and I can even drink a few beers afterward. Without lab testing there's no way to tell precisely how well I've adjusted, but as Kearney was quick to point out, adapting to altitude doesn't make you faster at altitude; it just makes you less slow than you were before you adapted.
The only way I'll ever reap the benefits of living at altitude will be to return to Pennsylvania, take a few oxygen-saturated breaths, and then put all of my thin-blooded riding pals into the hurt box on a Saturday-morning coffee ride.
Two female bike messengers in cutoff shorts rode ahead of me--one on a steel fixie that was two sizes too big and the other on a tanklike cyclocross bike with slicks.
The path had no grade to speak of, but every time it dipped to an underpass or ducked into a tight bend, a few bike lengths would open between the messengers and me. Pretty soon, I was hunched low in my drops, my lungs starting to sear, the sight of their whirring spoke cards inciting nausea. And then they dropped me.
Back at my apartment, I stared into my bathroom mirror and saw a salt-flaked, hollowed-out version of the person who, just a week earlier in eastern Pennsylvania, could sit in a pack of local pros and former Olympians at a weekly training race.
I thought I'd feel better after a few rides. No such luck. Every ride ended the same way: with a big bonk. I knew that moving to the Mile-High City would put a damper on my training, but it felt as if my fitness had literally disappeared into thin air.
Desperate for help, I turned to Jay T. Kearney, Ph.D., an advisor to the U.S. Olympic Committee who has worked for more than 10 years with elite athletes and adaptation to altitude. He assured me that my pathetic performance was not unique. In fact, most athletes who move to higher altitudes face several physiological effects that leave them panting and wheezing.
Kearney first explained that thin air isn't actually thin. "The percentage of oxygen in the air is the same at the top of Mt. Everest as it is when you're standing next to the Dead Sea," Kearney says. No matter the altitude, the amount of oxygen molecules in the air is about 21 percent.
As altitude increases, though, atmospheric pressure decreases--and when it comes to exercising (and just plain living), low pressure takes its toll. Gases such as oxygen are less dense at a lower pressure. That means you have to breathe harder and faster to bring the amount of oxygen to your blood and muscle cells that you're accustomed to at sea level. Hyperventilation triggers the fight-or-flight response, sending the body into a downward spiral: Your resting heart rate is elevated, you perspire more and you recover slower.
Luckily, the body begins to adapt to the lower pressure after three to four weeks at altitude. Kearney says there is considerable variability in the way individuals respond to altitude. In other words, some people suffer longer, while others adapt faster.
Adaptation begins with the kidneys ramping up their natural production of the hormone erythropoietin (EPO, but not the synthetic doping brand). EPO thickens the blood with a greater percentage of oxygen-carrying red blood cells. Each breath still brings in fewer oxygen molecules than at sea level, but the body learns to process a greater percentage of that oxygen into energy. Meanwhile, the extra breaths you've been taking can help your lungs grow slightly. The adaptation basically gives you what I've wanted since reading X-Men #226 in the third grade: a mutant power for superhuman breathing.
I've been in Colorado for a little more than a year now, and while I've yet to cross paths with those same messengers again, I've regained most of the form that seemed to evaporate when I first arrived. I can ride at 12,000 feet without feeling like I'm going to faint, and I can even drink a few beers afterward. Without lab testing there's no way to tell precisely how well I've adjusted, but as Kearney was quick to point out, adapting to altitude doesn't make you faster at altitude; it just makes you less slow than you were before you adapted.
The only way I'll ever reap the benefits of living at altitude will be to return to Pennsylvania, take a few oxygen-saturated breaths, and then put all of my thin-blooded riding pals into the hurt box on a Saturday-morning coffee ride.
How To Survive Getting High
Three ways to reduce the effects of altitude.
SYMPTOM: Reduced appetite
People burn more carbohydrate and less fat at higher altitudes, and may have less of an appetite, says Neal Henderson, M.S., sports science manager of the Boulder Center for Sports Medicine. Also, as you adapt to altitude, your body will tax its iron stores as red blood cell production increases, which can lead to an iron deficiency.
TREATMENT: "Eat smaller meals more frequently," says Henderson. "Add a bit more carbohydrate, especially in the first week or so." Women are more likely to be iron-deficient than men, but no matter your gender, you should ask your doctor to check the ferritin levels in your blood at your next checkup to see if you'd benefit from more protein in your altitude diet.
SYMPTOM: Dehydration
"When you're breathing air in Miami, it's already 80 percent saturated with water vapor," says altitude expert Jay T. Kearney. "But when you're at altitude, the relative humidity could be less than 20 percent." And because perspiration evaporates from your skin more rapidly at higher elevations, you're more likely to become dehydrated.
TREATMENT: Henderson estimates that cyclists require an extra eight to 16 ounces of fluid per hour of exercise at altitude. Gauge your fluid loss by weighing yourself before and after a one-hour workout.
SYMPTOM: Raging hormones
The constant state of hyperventilation caused by lower atmospheric pressure at high altitude triggers a physiological reaction, explains Henderson. Basically, your body thinks you're trying to outrun a grizzly bear: Your resting heart rate is elevated, you urinate more often and perspire more. And your sleep is restless, which impairs your ability to recover from hard efforts.
TREATMENT: If you're in the mountains to train, supplement hard efforts with 50 to 100 percent more rest between intervals, extended cooldowns, recovery drinks and naps to supplement less restful sleep.
SYMPTOM: Reduced appetite
People burn more carbohydrate and less fat at higher altitudes, and may have less of an appetite, says Neal Henderson, M.S., sports science manager of the Boulder Center for Sports Medicine. Also, as you adapt to altitude, your body will tax its iron stores as red blood cell production increases, which can lead to an iron deficiency.
TREATMENT: "Eat smaller meals more frequently," says Henderson. "Add a bit more carbohydrate, especially in the first week or so." Women are more likely to be iron-deficient than men, but no matter your gender, you should ask your doctor to check the ferritin levels in your blood at your next checkup to see if you'd benefit from more protein in your altitude diet.
SYMPTOM: Dehydration
"When you're breathing air in Miami, it's already 80 percent saturated with water vapor," says altitude expert Jay T. Kearney. "But when you're at altitude, the relative humidity could be less than 20 percent." And because perspiration evaporates from your skin more rapidly at higher elevations, you're more likely to become dehydrated.
TREATMENT: Henderson estimates that cyclists require an extra eight to 16 ounces of fluid per hour of exercise at altitude. Gauge your fluid loss by weighing yourself before and after a one-hour workout.
SYMPTOM: Raging hormones
The constant state of hyperventilation caused by lower atmospheric pressure at high altitude triggers a physiological reaction, explains Henderson. Basically, your body thinks you're trying to outrun a grizzly bear: Your resting heart rate is elevated, you urinate more often and perspire more. And your sleep is restless, which impairs your ability to recover from hard efforts.
TREATMENT: If you're in the mountains to train, supplement hard efforts with 50 to 100 percent more rest between intervals, extended cooldowns, recovery drinks and naps to supplement less restful sleep.
Adapt Faster
Take it easy just before and after arriving at a high-altitude destination and you'll adjust better. Sports scientist Neal Henderson offers this two-week prep course.
The Week Before
Reduce training volume by 30 to 50 percent, performing at a steady aerobic pace below your lactate threshold.
Adjust calorie intake to compensate for reduced training load.
Change sleep/wake times by an hour every day or two to preadapt to sleeping in a different time zone.
The First Week
Gradually ramp up your training volume, allowing for a 10 to 20 percent increase in volume at the end of the week, until you reach 20 to 30 percent below your typical regimen.
Keep training intensity at an aerobic pace for the first four to five days. After that, incorporate five- to 10-minute tempo intervals at just below lactate threshold. Shoot for 20 to 30 minutes of intensity work with equal amounts of rest between intervals.
Increase carbohydrate intake by 10 to 15 percent.
Take postride naps when possible.
Lose the booze. The performance-impairing effect of alcohol is more debilitating during the initial altitude adaptation. Even small amounts can further inhibit sleep and recovery.
Altitude Tents:
Are they worth it?
Hypoxic chambers--"altitude tents"--create low-pressure sleep conditions, allowing athletes to develop the thicker blood they'll need to perform well. The rub? For one thing, the tents make your bedroom look like a scene from E.T. They also have a reputation for bumping up the temperature in the room, sometimes making sleep less restful. And then there's the matter of price: The lower-end models start at around $4,000.
The Week Before
Reduce training volume by 30 to 50 percent, performing at a steady aerobic pace below your lactate threshold.
Adjust calorie intake to compensate for reduced training load.
Change sleep/wake times by an hour every day or two to preadapt to sleeping in a different time zone.
The First Week
Gradually ramp up your training volume, allowing for a 10 to 20 percent increase in volume at the end of the week, until you reach 20 to 30 percent below your typical regimen.
Keep training intensity at an aerobic pace for the first four to five days. After that, incorporate five- to 10-minute tempo intervals at just below lactate threshold. Shoot for 20 to 30 minutes of intensity work with equal amounts of rest between intervals.
Increase carbohydrate intake by 10 to 15 percent.
Take postride naps when possible.
Lose the booze. The performance-impairing effect of alcohol is more debilitating during the initial altitude adaptation. Even small amounts can further inhibit sleep and recovery.
Altitude Tents:
Are they worth it?
Hypoxic chambers--"altitude tents"--create low-pressure sleep conditions, allowing athletes to develop the thicker blood they'll need to perform well. The rub? For one thing, the tents make your bedroom look like a scene from E.T. They also have a reputation for bumping up the temperature in the room, sometimes making sleep less restful. And then there's the matter of price: The lower-end models start at around $4,000.
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