Every October, my coaching inbox fills up with the same confession, just in different words. “I’m gassed.” “My legs feel like they belong to someone else.” “The hill that was easy in July is ruining me now.” My clients aren’t lazy and they aren’t slacking — most of them are training harder than ever for fall races. But when three women in one week mention they’ve started chewing ice like it’s potato chips, I stop guessing and start talking about low iron. I lived this story before I ever coached it. During my heptathlon years, I spent an entire winter…