1982 Montreal International Marathon

Finishing the 1982 Montreal International
Marathon (46th, 2:29).

Just an easy 10km on some trails and the beach for training today.  After the comfortable 15km yesterday, I would have expected to feel better this morning, and was a little worried by how hard the early kilometres were.  In fact, I wondered whether there had been a recurrence of the heart problem, although I wasn't aware of any palpitations.  I did manage to run up one of my benchmark hills, and actually felt better after that, although my overall time for the regular Little Beach course was slow.  I'll be interested to see how I feel tomorrow morning.

Another occasion when my running didn't match my expectations was the 1982 Montreal International Marathon, although every other aspect of the event was exciting and memorable.  I wrote an article about it for the Kew Camberwell running club newsletter.
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1982 MONTREAL INTERNATIONAL MARATHON - David Byrnes

As a consequence of my 2:19 in last year's Big M Marathon, I was fortunate enough to be selected in the Australian team for the Montreal International Marathon to be held on 30 May 1982.  As this was my first Australian singlet, I was, of course, very pleased and determined to do well.  However, my chronic achilles tendon injury caused me to avoid racing for the six weeks before the race and this lack of speed-work, in combination with some medication I was taking for the injury resulted in one of my poorest performances ever - 46th place in 2:29.  It was particularly disappointing because, despite the injury, my training form was very good and I knew I was in better shape than when I ran 2:22 in the Boston Marathon some six weeks earlier.

Looking over Montreal from Mount Royal.

My performance clouded what was otherwise an enjoyable and unique experience.  The Australian team, consisting of John Stanley, Graeme Kennedy, Garry Hand and myself, arrived in Montreal six days before the event and were met by representatives of the organisers.  Of the total budget of $1.5 million for the event, $300,000 was spent on airfares to bring some one hundred athletes to the event and all were to be accorded the same star, or 'elite' status which we enjoyed.  Our hotel, the Sheraton, had only been open for six weeks and our $130 a day rooms on the 20th floor left nothing to be desired.  The race administration had taken over the whole 7th floor and provided, for the 'elite', a 'hospitality' room which contained a bottomless fridge (always full of beer, coke, yoghurt and other goodies), magazines, coffee and so on.  Another 'entertainment' room was stocked with video and other games for our amusement and a third 'dining' room had breakfast and dinner available for us all at no cost.  In addition the Province of Quebec provided six or seven hostesses and hosts to look after us.  Amongst other things, they organised sightseeing tours by bus and boat, trips to the baseball and soccer (both in the 1976 Olympic Stadium), to the races, to a rock concert and so on.  Since only two teams (the Australian men and French women's) plus a few other individuals were in Montreal for the first few days, we received almost individual attention from the organisers.  In addition, we had VIP seats and everything laid on at all these events since they were sponsored by Molson's Brewery which was also sponsoring the Marathon.

Jacques Cartier Bridge, Montreal.

Early during our stay, Serge Arsenault, the race director, called our team to a private meeting and after explaining the race details, informed us of our $30 a day living allowance and went on to list the prizes available for the race.  First place would earn $10,000 down to tenth place $500 with performance bonuses of $750 for each minute under 2:15 as well as $5,000 for the first team, $3,000 for second and $1,000 for third.  He then asked how we wanted prize money paid should we be lucky enough -in cash, by cheque, or to our national association.  In the event, the Australian team came second behind Italy in the teams race and John Stanley, our nominated manager, collected three crisp $1,000 notes (which were later deliveved to the AAU).

There is practically no dividing line between professional and amateur athletes in North America now and Benji Durden (USA), who won the race in 2:13, openly admitted that he won $35,000 in cash last year in the U.S.

Montreal Olympic Stadium.

Montreal is a predominantly French-speaking city of some 3 million people on an island in the St Lawrence River.  The dominant feature of the city is the tree-covered Mount Royal (MontReal in French) which provided good training territory only a kilometre from our hotel.  For our entire stay the weather was warm and humid which made training a sweaty affair but was otherwise very pleasant for looking around.  The day of the race was no exception and a 6:30 am news bulletin informed us that it was 20°C and rising.  During the race it was sunny and very humid with temperatures recorded at 30°C along the course.  However, it was not the temperature which affected me.  I started badly, running 16:30 for the first 5km, 17:30 for the second and 18:00 almost exactly for each 5km thereafter.  Of course by 10km I was already almost three minutes down on the leaders and spent the rest of the race wishing I was home in bed but not daring to pull out.

Because of my slow start, I don't think anyone passed me after about 10km and as the heat took its toll, my place improved rapidly - 90th at half-way, 46th at the finish - however this was no consolation at all.  My team-mates performed well with the exception of Gary Henry (who joined the team from the U.S. where he had been studying) and the results were as follows:
     16.  Graeme Kennedy - 2:19
     20.  Gary Hand - 2:20
     24.  John Stanley – 2:21
     41.  Gary Henry – 2:28
     46.  Dave Byrnes – 2:29.

The main reason we came second in the teams race was the casualty rate in the other national teams, many of whom had insufficient finishers to count.

The race, similar to our Big M Marathon, was a mass participation event. However, to make the organisation manageable only the first 12,000 entries were accepted!  The race started on the giant Jacques Cartier Bridge across the St Lawrence Seaway and ran through the suburbs out around the 1976 Olympic Village and Stadium before returning to pass through the central city area.  It then proceeded out on to two islands in the Seaway, circling the Canadian Grand Prix circuit, and passing through the World Expo site to the finish.  Unfortunately there was little crowd support over the last 10 kilometres (where it was most needed) in contrast to the first 30 where the route was lined with people.  Although, it must be said, that unless you were recognised as a 'Quebecois' (from the province of Quebec), runner the support was somewhat muted.

The evening of the race there was a dinner and disco for the elite athletes and organisers which was enjoyed by all and then after a day to rest up, we returned to Australia - a 48 hour trip.

A big day

Rolet de Castella (#95) on his way to his first
sub-3 marathon at age 57.

Earlier this month, I wrote a post about Robert de Castella and earlier this week, on ABC Radio, I heard him interviewed at length.  During the conversation, the running background of Rolet de Castella, Rob's father, was discussed.  I didn't know Rolet well, just enough to say hello, but I did know that he was one of those runners who had defied the odds and revived their running careers after severe heart problems.  Rolet had a stroke in 1974 at age 50, and a heart attack a year later, but loved his running so much he was soon back on the roads each time.  In 1975 he read about the Pritikin Regression diet, adopted it, and was soon running seriously again.  By coincidence, the 1979 Victorian Amateur Athletic Association Marathon Championship was a very big event for Rolet, Rob and me.  I found an article by Dick Batchelor in the Spring 1979 edition of the Victorian Marathon Club Newsletter about that day.
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DE CASTELLA'S DAY - Dick Batchelor.

The remarkable 2:14:22 run by Rob deCastella at Point Cook on June 23rd means that Australia now has at least five world-class marathon runners (Chettle, Barrett, Scott & Wardlaw are the others).  These five enjoy a clear margin of four or five minutes over other Australian runners.  Australia must take its full quota to Moscow next year.

First event at Point Cook was the inaugural Victorian Women's Marathon Championship, starting at 12:30 in perfect conditions - cool and almost windless.  Very fittingly, the event was won by Lavinia Petrie, who has fought for such a race for several years.  It must be said that the women's times were rather slow, but we hear that such accomplished performers as Angela Cook are training for their debuts, so standards could rise dramatically.  Results: 1. Lavinia Petrie 3:02:07; 2. Kathie McLean 3:04:33; 3. Jacquie Turney 3:25:29; 4. Barbara Fay 3:25:55; 5. Glenda Humphreys 3:30:18.

Most of the 136 finishers in the men's event improved on their best times, with increments of 5 or 10 minutes not uncommon.  The "traditional" course was used, an out and back journey with only one hill (an overpass) to be negotiated!  When I saw the leaders after they had rounded the turn, Vic Anderson was striding powerfully in front (67:15 turn) with deCastella (67:29) and John Bermingham running side by side about 25m back, followed by Paul 0'Hare (67:31), Dave Byrnes (67:45), Graeme Kennedy (68:05), Bob Guthrie (68:22) and Neil McKern (68:35).

At 16 miles deCastella took the lead, Bermingham dropped out but big Vic and the others kept hammering away.  At 20 miles, from all accounts (your correspondent by then being several miles back down the road), Pat Clohessy urged de Castella to speed up and he cleared away from his pursuers, covering the final 3 miles in under 15 min!

The very consistent Dave Byrnes came through strongly in the closing stages to be second in a PB 2:19:06 with Vic Anderson third after doing so much of the early pace.  As the clock approached the 3½ hours cut-off, few people noticed a compact and mature runner who crossed the line in 127th place – 3:25:14.  Four years ago this man suffered a severe heart attack, despite having been a regular jogger.  Encouraged perhaps by the athletic achievements of his two sons, this man rehabilitated his health with a stepped up running program and careful dieting.  He completed his first marathon last year and June 23rd was his first time under 3½ hours.  His name? Rolet deCastella, and what a unique "double" he and his son achieved on June 23, 1979, at Point Cook!!

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Rolet went on to run many more marathons, including a 2:58 at age 57.  He died of a heart attack while out running at age 73.

Just an easy 5km for me today.

Las Vegas Marathon

The early part of the 1986 Las Vegas Marathon course.

Running can add another dimension to travelling, whether for business or pleasure, and there are many posts in this blog describing the places where I have been fortunate enough to run.  Including races in travel plans can add even more to the experience.

In 1985 and 1986, my then wife, Barb, and I spent a year touring the US and Canada on a very tight budget ($20 a day plus fuel) in a campervan and ran a number of races.  Perhaps the most memorable was the Las Vegas Marathon in February 1986.  We arrived the afternoon before the race and collected our race numbers from a local running shop before going to the Polynesian Hotel ($15 per night!) on the recommendation of the running shop proprietor.  We were so poor we couldn't afford the pasta party, and instead, cooked some spaghetti bolognese in our campervan in the hotel car park and smuggled it up to our room.

The towers of Las Vegas began to take shape in the
far distance on the 1986 Las Vegas Marathon course.

On race morning, we joined our fellow competitors for the journey to the start on one of those cramped yellow American school buses.  The start was 42.2km south of town along the famed Las Vegas Boulevard, near a small local airport with minimal facilities in the middle of the desert.  By this point, the Boulevard was little more than a service road paralleling Interstate 15, the freeway to Los Angeles.  On arrival, competitors scattered in all directions into the desert looking for suitable bushes behind which to complete pre-race toileting with a modicum of privacy.

Crossing the finish line in the 1986 Las
Vegas Marathon (10th, 2:31).

To say the course was boring was an understatement.  It followed the virtually straight road all the way back to Las Vegas and the finish.  The first 13km involved a gradual climb, but then, after the course crested a rise, glimpses of the casino towers of Las Vegas were occasionally in view, shimmering in the distance.  We ran towards them, but as time passed, they never seemed to get any closer.  The scale of the vista was immense, with plenty of desert and few nearby topographical features. It was a soul-destroying place to race, but finally the city outskirts were reached.  After a few more kilometres and a few turns, we finished in the back lots behind the casinos.

Barb was second-placed female overall, and I was first in the Male 35-39 category and tenth overall.  We hung around the finish for a while, eating the free goodies, before returning to our hotel.  Later, we attended the race presentation in another hotel and discovered Barb had won $750 for her effort and I received $350 for my category win.  Neither of us had any interest in gambling but we splurged on some cheap restaurant meals before moving on the next day, one of the few couples to leave Las Vegas a lot wealthier than when we arrived.

For my training today, I ran an easy 5km around Copa, which was faster than expected.  I'm beginning to feel good.  How long can it last?

Rob de Castella

Me (in green hoops) at the 16km mark en route to my PB marathon
(2nd, 2:19:06) behind Rob De Castella (1st, 2:14:44) at Point Cook,
Victoria, in June 1979.

One of my claims to fame is that I ran second to Rob de Castella, Australia's most famous marathoner, in his first marathon.  The apocryphal story is that Rob only ran the marathon, the 1979 Victorian Championship, to get a place in the Victorian team for the Australian Championship to be held in Perth later in the year.  His girlfriend lived in Perth, and he had no money.

I've often said that to be a great runner you need to inherit the right genes from your parents, have the self-discipline to do the necessary training and hard-nosed racing, and be lucky enough to avoid serious injury.  I think Rob had all of those attributes and used them to become the best in the world.

Winning the Cinque Mulini race
in Italy.

I first became aware of Rob when he was still a junior athlete and can remember him as an impoverished student driving an old Peugeot 403 and camping near us for one of the first Bacchus 12000 races at Griffith (see post titled Bacchus 12000).  There was no arrogance, but you sensed there was enormous potential and I was always a keen follower of his running career and proud to know him.

We were more acquaintances than friends, but often trained with the same groups, especially on the long Sunday runs in the Dandenongs (see post titled Ferny Creek 21).  As I recall, after running the regular 21 Miler for some years, I decided I needed to add some distance to bring it up to 25 miles some Sundays, and was gratified to see Rob occasionally following suit a few months later.  There were also some Wednesday evening runs in Melbourne.  They were fast 15-20 milers after work over inner city parks and roads and I can remember grimly hanging on to the small bunch of class runners as we flew across Royal Park at better than 6 minute mile pace.

Although he had already represented Australia internationally as a cross-country runner, that first marathon in 1979 signalled the start of a famous career that included Commonwealth Games, World Championship, Boston and New York titles, along with a world's best time.

The last time I trained with Rob was when we passed through Boulder, Colorado, where he was living as a full-time professional athlete, while travelling the US in 1985.  The morning run was a few miles with him and Rosa Mota, one of the best female marathoners of her era, and the evening session was on the track at the local university where I was totally out of my depth in twelve laps of sprinting the straights.

He was always a class, or two, above me as a runner, but I felt a kinship because I knew first-hand how hard he trained to get where he did.

I ran just 5km around Copa this morning, but maybe ran a little harder.  I coped well enough, but never felt comfortable.  I was stiff and my knees hurt.  What was more disturbing, however, was the post-run read-out on my heart monitor which showed an erratic beat for the first ten minutes.  It could be a technical glitch, but I was conscious of an uneasy feeling in my chest early in the run.  Memo to self: start slowly and build into future runs.

Carp diem

A trail in the Yarra Valley in Ivanhoe.

While visiting Melbourne, and limited to about 5km a day, I have been running the same circuit in the Glen Iris/Malvern area.  The last part of the course takes me through streets adjacent to Malvern's Central Park, where a good friend, Tom, lived before his tragic death while cycling back in 2006.

He was another one of those people who was good at everything.  Highly respected as a lawyer, known especially for his pro bono work and support of worthy causes, he was also a very accomplished rower, having represented both the University of Melbourne and the University of Cambridge in his youth.

The Yarra Valley at Templestowe.

I can't remember when I first met Tom, but it was probably in the late 1970s, and we soon got to know each other well.  As you might expect for a rower, he was quite a big guy, but was a great all round athlete and ran some good marathons, getting into the 2:30s.  For a number of years, he was part of a small group of us who met in Kew each Sunday morning for a run on roads and trails in the Yarra Valley.  True to his nature, he also looked out for the well-being of one of our running friends who had occasional rough patches in his life.

Another trail in the Yarra Valley in Templestowe.

Although I lived outside of Australia for sixteen years from 1987, I always looked forward to visiting Kew for the Sunday morning run on home visits to catch up on all of the news, and Tom remained a good friend during all of those expatriate years.  He was a little older than me, and due to retire in less than a year, when the bike accident cut short his life.  We had toyed with the idea of doing some adventuring together after his retirement, and he would have been a great companion.  Carpe diem.

This morning's 5km passed without incident, although the aches and pains of the last few days are still there.  I'll just keep jogging the same distance for the next few days and expect I will start to feel better soon.

Derek Clayton

Derek Clayton, running with Japan's Seiichiro
Sasaki, in the 1967 Fukuoka Marathon which
he won in a world record time of 2:09.36.4.

Along with great Australian athletes such as Ron Clarke, Herb Elliott and John Landy who inspired me to start running and awed me with their achievements, was the perhaps lesser-known Derek Clayton.

I was still living in London, and running school cross-country races as a sixteen year-old when his name hit the sporting headlines as the first person to run under 2:10 for a marathon when he ran 2:09:36.4 in the 1967 Fukuoka Marathon in Japan.  This wasn't long after Ron Clarke had blazed a trail across the world with a series of phenomenal world records on the track (see post titled Ron Clarke) and it seemed to me that Australians must have some kind of genetic predisposition to long distance running.

Two years later, when I was at university in Melbourne, his home town, and getting more obsessed with running, Derek Clayton again broke the world record.  This time it was in Antwerp, and his time of 2:08:33.6, stood as the world's best time for twelve years, until bettered by Rob De Castella.  By this time I was regularly competing in the Victorian Amateur Athletics Association (VAAA) winter and summer events and would have competed in a number of events against Clayton, though I don't specifically remember ever meeting him.  I do have a vague recollection of passing him and Ron Clarke, speeding in the opposite direction, when I was out on a training run in Melbourne's eastern suburbs one time in those years, and it may have been more than once.

Derek Clayton leads in the 1969 Maxol (Manchester)
Marathon which was won by Ron Hill in 2:13.

For a while, Clayton seemed to run and win every significant distance race in Australia, including the Australian Marathon titles in 1967, 1968, 1971 and 1973.  He was a prolific racer and known as a hard man and focussed runner.  On one occasion, I think in September 1973, Clayton won the VAAA 25km Road Championships on a multi-lap course around the 6km Sandown road racing circuit.  I was 22nd in 89:26 in the same race, but never saw Clayton after the start.  It may be an apocryphal story, but apparently with about a lap to go, Clayton was in the lead but desperately needed a toilet break.  Stopping was not an option, and he finished with some ugly looking stains on the back of his shorts and down his legs, still in the lead.  Not surprisingly, the club-mate in whose car he had travelled to the event, refused to let him into the car for the home journey until he had been hosed down.

Even though I wasn't remotely in Clayton's class, running in the same races as the world's best marathoner early in my career, and seeing first-hand how dedicated and disciplined you needed to be to succeed, made a big impression on me.

I had a comfortable 6km walk this morning at Trotters and wasn't quite as conscious of how my heart was beating.  As each day passes, I get a little more confident that I will soon be running again.

T-shirts

T-shirt Quilt - Side 1.

I am a bit of a hoarder and in 45 years of running have collected quite a lot of trophies, finisher's medals and T-shirts.  The trophies and medals are mostly stored away in a cupboard and just don't evoke the same sentimentality as the T-shirts.

Some are treasured because they were from a memorable race, such as the London to Brighton in the early 1990s, my first serious ultra.  Others date from early career, such as the All Weather Running Club from my school in London.  Still others are valued because they are reminiscent of a particular era in my running life, such as the Bacchus 12000 shirts earned on the trips with club-mates to Griffith in the early 1980s.  Many just have a great eye-catching design, such as the Quivering Quads and Pere Marquette trail races from St Louis in the mid-1990s and several were given to me by people returning from events such as the 1981 World Cross-Country Champs.  A number don't relate to running events at all, but are still meaningful, such as the souvenir US T-shirts that were all I could find to buy and run in (along with some fleecy shorts!) when my baggage got lost on a business trip to Washington DC.

T-shirt Quilt - Side 2.

The common denominator with all of these T-shirts is that they have covered many kilometres, visited many places, and been laundered to within an inch of their lives.  Even as they shrank and lost their shape, I still loved them and couldn't bring myself to throw them out even though they were no longer wearable.  So, a couple of years ago, I asked a friend whether she would be willing to cut them up and sew them into a quilt.  The result is a superb piece of art and artisanship that fills me with pride and memories whenever I look at it.

No specific walking for exercise today, but I did play nine holes of golf which equates to about 5km (probably longer, the way I play).

Labertouche North run

Countryside near Labertouche with Bunyip State
Forest in the distance.

During the late 1970s and 1980s, we had a holiday shack in an area called Labertouche, about an hour's drive east of Melbourne.  The shack was on the edge of what was then State Forest and is now, Bunyip State Park, ideally located for running, especially in the days when my then wife, Barb, and I were serious long distance athletes.  Many weekends and vacations were spent with a crowd of our running friends, training twice a day, interspersed with board games, volleyball and cricket.

I had many great running courses, of varying lengths and degrees of difficulty, most of which I could still find my way around, 30 years later.  When tuning up for an approaching marathon, a favourite course was the Labertouche North Road 31km loop with moderate grades that could be run hard the whole way, occasionally at less than 6 minute mile average pace (3:45/km).

Our shack at Labertouche.

It started out southwards with a gradual downhill run out of the forest into an area of hobby farms with some great vistas along the way.  It passed the small local rural school, before flattening out as it swung north-west along Labertouche North Road through grazing properties to the halfway point.  Here it entered the forest and climbed the first of two major hills before descending into the forested Bullock Creek valley.  The dirt road was mostly bordered by towering eucalypt trees, but occasionally provided sweeping views to the south, and at other times wound round the side of spurs passing over small creeks hidden in groves of tree ferns.

The route passed by the rustic and remote Brighton Grammar School outdoor education camp, nestled on a couple of hectares in the forest, shortly before crossing Bullock Creek and beginning a steady climb out of the valley.  From the top of the climb, a gradual 5km descent along the gravel forest road winding through the forest and wildflowers allowed for a fast run back to the finish.

A firetruck flees the 2009 bushfire near Labertouche.

One reason this course lives large in my memory is that for a long time I considered my best time of 1:55 a time worthy of a good athlete (on a training run).  Then, one day when I had arranged to run it with an accomplished marathon running friend, he turned up at the shack in a sombre mood.  His wife had left him the previous day, along with their two children, and there were lots of emotions bubbling just below the surface.  He still wanted to do the run, but I didn't see much of him after we set out.  He smashed my best time by six minutes!

On another sad note, one of the devastating 2009 Victorian bushfires burnt out much of the Labertouche area, including our old shack (we sold it in the 1990s) and the Brighton Grammar camp, along with huge swathes of my cherished forest.

For today's exercise I walked 5km through nearby McMasters Beach.  I originally intended to do 10km, but wasn't very motivated and returned early, despite feeling physically fine.

Ron Clarke

Ron Clarke

Way back in the mid-1960s, I was living in London where my father had been posted for three years.  Like many young teenagers, I played several different sports and still believed, that one day, I could be world class in one of them.  Sadly, reality gradually dawned on the tennis court, cricket ground and rugby field as I recognised a lacked of the physique and ball skills to ever be a champion.

Like many expatriates I was proud when homeland heroes did well on the international stage and Ron Clarke toured Europe at just the right time to get my attention.  Just a few months after my family settled in the UK in 1965, Ron toured the US and Europe, breaking 12 track world records, including becoming the first man ever to run 3 miles in less than 13 minutes, 6 miles in less than 27 minutes and 10,000m in less than 28 minutes.  The times themselves didn't mean much to me, but Ron's style of running did.  Although he seemed to lack the finishing kick to win tactical major Games titles, he was a machine when it came to world record attempts.  He generally ran from the front and gradually burned off his competitors, often breaking world records by prodigious amounts.  Ron was indisputably the best distance runner in the world during the mid-60s.  Possessing the characteristics of toughness, discipline and excellence that I admired and aspired to, he was a worthy hero.  I don't want to overplay it, but he certainly got me thinking that running might be my sport.

Ron Clarke wins bronze in the 10,000m at the 1964 Tokyo
Olympics behind Billy Mills (USA) and Mohammed
Gammoudi (Tunisia)

After returning to Australia and getting more serious about my running, I became even more appreciative of Ron's talents and record.  I probably saw him at Victorian running events during this time, but have no specific memory.  However, when I began to reach my marathon prime in the late 70s and did well in some bigger races we had some brief interactions and he got to know who I was.  I remember being very proud when I won a small fun run in Melbourne's north-eastern suburbs and Ron, who was presenting the prizes, referred to me as one of Australia's up-and-coming distance runners.  I can also remember him giving me a toot on his car horn near the Tan as I ran to work during the morning commute.  His acknowledgement seemed to give my running efforts credibility in my own mind, and that was important to me.

Ron Clarke tracks Michel Jazy (France) during a
1965 two mile race in France in which Jazy
broke the world record

The sad thing about Ron's career was that it was brought to a premature end by a heart problem he believes developed during the high altitude Mexico City Olympics in 1968.  He faded quickly in the last few laps of the 10,000m final after being in contention with two laps to go, collapsed unconscious after crossing the line and was given oxygen.  A few years later he was diagnosed with a heart defect and in 1983, after suffering fibrillation during a run, had successful surgery to replace a faulty valve.  You can read an excellent summary of Ron's career here.

No fibrillation or flutter for me today as I walked a flat 7km for exercise.  I felt fine, but remain despondent that this is all the exercise I am allowed for the next six weeks.  It's very tempting to see if I can jog around my usual Copa 5km course at an easy pace, but I guess I'll follow the doctor's orders.

Fibrillation or flutter

Part of my walk around Copa today

I wasn't really anticipating any good news when I had a long consultation with my GP today, just a summary of the tests so far and referrals to some specialists.  If anything, I came away a little more positive.  She confirmed that all of the blood tests for more sinister underlying conditions had come back within normal range, and provided more detail on the cardiac tests and leg ultrasounds.

Apparently, the cardiologist diagnosed Atrial Flutter (AFl) rather than Atrial Fibrillation (A-fib) as being my heart condition, and according to the GP, this is the better diagnosis to have.  I gather A-fib is chaotic disorganised beating of the Atria while AFl is regular, but way too fast, beating of the Atria and may be a little easier to treat and sometimes stops of its own accord.

Looking north from Captain Cook Lookout
during today's walk

The leg ultrasound report found "some occlusive thrombus in one of the peroneal veins from 7cm below the knee crease to 20cm below".  The GP says her starting theory would be that the thrombosis in the leg has thrown off small clots that have impacted both my lungs (Pulmonary Embolism) and heart (AFl), but has referred me to a respiratory specialist and a cardiologist to try and confirm the diagnosis and prescribe treatment.  In the meantime, I continue with the Warfarin anti-coagulant.  The earliest specialist appointments are six weeks away, but I guess the fact that I'm not seen as an urgent case is a good sign.  It probably means, however, that my exercise is going to be limited to walking until at least the end of February and any prospect of returning to serious marathon training in time for the Gold Coast Marathon in July is remote.

Looking south from Captain Cook Lookout during
today's walk

I won't abandon the marathon goal until I speak with the specialists, and dearly want to resume regular running.  However, I am already mentally more focussed on the need to be fit for my next planned adventure, a 3500km southbound hike along the Appalachian Trail from Maine to Georgia in the eastern US starting in Autumn (October) and finishing in the Spring (March).  I know there is a possibility that this too could be scuppered by my current health problems, but I'm trying to be optimistic.

I walked about 8km today, not particularly quickly, and felt fine the whole way.  I gather that regular leg use is recommended in the treatment of Deep Vein Thrombosis, so being able to walk 8km without pain or other problems must be a good thing, I reckon.

Mental adjustment

The MacPherson Forest loop was my last long trail run

It is a challenging (character-building?) time for me.  I find myself constantly re-evaluating my situation, looking for plausible positive scenarios (while trying not to fool myself), and fending off the darker morbid thoughts that must come to anybody who suddenly finds they have a potentially life-threatening medical condition.  I always assumed that my serious running career would be brought to an end by some major joint failure.  I did not expect it to be threatened by a cardio-vascular event, and it's taking time to get my head around the consequences.  With joint failure, there were always going to be alternative forms of endurance exercise such as cycling, hiking or kayaking to fill the running void, but a cardiac problem will be just as much of an issue for those activities.

MacPherson State Forest trail run

It's amazing how quickly your perspective changes, especially with the resources of the Web and Google to inform you.  I'm already thinking about changing the title of this blog to "The Futile Pursuit of a Last Sub-3 Hour Marathon" as it's hard for me to believe that I will ever be able to subject my heart to the stress necessary to run that fast again.  New goals are formulating.

Of most importance to me is the ability to exercise most days and feel good about my health, well-being, and quality of life.  It would be great to include occasional long "no pressure" trail runs, and be able to go for extended hikes/rides in remote places.  Compromises will be needed, along with patience.

MacPherson State Forest trail run

I have already decided I'm willing to reduce daily and weekly distances, give up the pursuit of age-group podiums, and even walk up hills.  If it seems likely to reduce the risks, I'll cut out caffeine (despite my well-known penchant for Diet Coke and Pepsi Max) and stop using my asthma inhalant, Symbicort.  All of these things - too much endurance/hard running, caffeine, steroid-based asthma medications - are statistically correlated with Atrial Fibrillation and cited as possible risk factors.  Age (I'm 63) is another significant risk factor, but I can't do much about that.

There will be more tests and doctor consultations to come, and there are still plenty of "unknowns", but it will help me deal with the situation if I've started mentally adjusting to the life-style compromises that may be required.

A new challenge

Terrigal Trotters gather after their Santa Run

The New Year has brought some additional challenges in my quest to run a last sub-3 hour marathon.  When I started this blog, I thought my goal was possible rather than probable, and now it seems closer to impossible than possible.

Following my underwhelming Melbourne Marathon effort back in October 2013 (see post), my training was consistently around 100km per week up until Christmas and I could feel my fitness improving significantly.  Enough, in fact, to begin plotting my race calendar for 2014, culminating in another sub-3 hour marathon attempt at the Gold Coast Marathon in early July.  I entered races such as the Bogong to Hotham 64km in January and the Six Foot Track 45km in March, optimistic that, barring the unforeseen, I would do well in both.

Unfortunately, "the unforeseen" has arrived.  At the Terrigal Trotters Santa Run, on the Saturday preceding Christmas, I struggled around the 10km course for no apparent reason, breathing particularly hard on the hills.  It was warm and humid, I was wearing an Elf costume, and I had run 37km (comfortably) in training three days earlier, so I wrote it off to a combination of those factors.  Over the next three days, I ran just 10-15km daily, and didn't push the pace, but still felt fatigued and short of breath.  I even walked up a couple of steeper hills, a rarity, and quite demoralising.  I survived a long-planned 35km Boxing Day trail run with friends by running conservatively the whole way, and hoped that successful completion might have signalled some kind of recovery.

Me (centre) getting ready for the Trotters Santa Run,
unaware of my Pulmonary Embolism and how hard I
was going to find the run.

Sadly, two days later, I could only shuffle around the monthly Trotters 10km Hill Time Trial in 56 minutes, some 13 minutes slower than I should have been able to manage.  This convinced me something was wrong, and not getting better.  On returning home, I spent some time Googling my symptoms.  The most likely explanation seemed to be Pulmonary Embolism (PE) a condition that can quickly become fatal and requires urgent medical attention.  I didn't feel "on the edge" so resolved to visit my local Medical Centre the next morning.  The duty doctor thought PE unlikely, since I had no symptoms of Deep Vein Thrombosis (DVT),  but alarmingly, thought some kind of heart condition probable.  Nevertheless, she took my concerns seriously and prescribed a series of tests to check for heart and lung issues.

Being the Sunday between Christmas and New Year, I had to wait until the next day to get the first tests done and a Pulmonary Angiogram found evidence of PE in both lungs.  Often this would lead to immediate hospitalisation, but since I seemed otherwise healthy and stable, I was sent directly back to the doctor where I was given an injection of the anti-coagulant Clexane in the stomach and prescribed another anti-coagulant, Warfarin.  More tests were prescribed to try and determine the source of the original clotting, which I gather could include cancer, heart problems or injury.

Now, three days later, I'm still trying to come to terms with how this is going to change my life.  After more extensive Googling, it seems the best case scenario is that the clots are resolved by the anti-coagulant and I cease taking the Warfarin in three months and return to my pre-PE life.  The worst case scenario is that the PE is symptomatic of a more serious condition.  I feel healthy, when not running up hills, and have a sort of instinctive confidence that there is nothing seriously wrong.  On the other hand, I strive to be a rational being and know I'm getting older, I frequently test my body to its limits, and some time, barring accidents, a medical condition will lead to my demise.

I'm restarting this blog with the intention of tracking my progress through treatment and towards the Gold Coast Marathon in July.  At this stage, I really have no idea whether I will be running.  Chances are that I won't bother unless I feel fit enough to threaten 3 hours.  Right now, this seems a very slim chance, but I'm keen to try.

New plan

After finishing a woeful 2004 Six Foot
Track Marathon (296th, 5:33)

Today has been another day for contemplating what next.  Do I still want to try and run a sub-3:00 marathon?  If so, what is a reasonable time frame for another attempt?  Do I want to keep writing a regular blog about running?  What of my other "bucket list" ambitions such as the Pacific Crest Trail and the Te Araroa Trail?

Also, it is now less than four weeks to the annual Great North Walk 100s (GNW100s), for which I am the Race Director, and most of my time in the next month will be devoted to preparation for that race.  I don't really want or need the pressure of keeping to a serious training program during this month when time will be frequently tight.

These are "First World Problems" of course, and I don't pretend otherwise.  Over the weekend, another good running friend from Terrigal Trotters was struck down with an unexpected and serious illness.  It looks like he will be OK, but it's a reminder to me to keep my issues in perspective.

Finishing the 1979 Canberra Marathon
(2nd, 2:23)

A tentative plan has evolved.  For the next six weeks, I will still run most days (and average about 100km per week), but won't train to a specific plan or for a specific race.  This will improve my fitness significantly, assuming I don't get injured, but will be without pressure.  I will not post any updates to this blog.  Apart from not having a "project" to write about, I will need the time for GNW100s preparation.

From the start of December, I will work to a training plan that prepares me for the Six Foot Track Marathon (45km trail race) on 8 March 2014 and the Canberra Marathon on 13 April 2014, with the goal of running a fast time in the latter.  I will resume posting to this blog at that time.

See you then.

Reality check

The start of the 2013 Melbourne Marathon

Last night's eleven hour drive back from Melbourne to Copa, punctuated by a collision with a large kangaroo just north of Gundagai which provided a few seconds of drama, gave me plenty of time to contemplate my woeful Melbourne Marathon performance.  In the lead up to the race, I never considered the possibility of running over four hours.  My finish time of 4:08 was so off the radar, it almost feels unreal.  But maybe that's a good thing, because I know in my heart that I'm still capable of running much faster than that.  However, I'm not sure in my heart that I still believe I can run a sub-3:00 marathon.  Maybe I'm fooling myself, and making a fool of myself.  But I'm not giving up on the idea just yet.

Soon after the start of the 2013 Melbourne Marathon

It's hard to put my finger on exactly what went wrong with yesterday's race.  My conservative start went as planned and it did take me a few kilometres to feel warmed up.  But contrary to expectations, I never settled into a free-running pace after that.  The adductor muscles (top front of thighs) of both legs felt strained early, and I believe this shortened my stride.  I held my 3:20 marathon pace to half way, but was running inefficiently and tiring.  As my running form deteriorated further, my lower back tensed up and soon I was just shambling along..."You can make it, Old Timer!"  The lower back problem has occurred in some other long races, and once it starts tightening up, my race is over.  My conclusion is that I wasn't really fit enough to run as I hoped (3:10 to 3:20).  Three weeks ago, I had thought those times were unlikely, but my training picked up recently and maybe I got carried away.

It was a humbling, demoralising and frustrating experience, but part of a runner's life.  Not every race is a good one, and some are downright bad.  I know my potential is not defined by such races.  I'm capable of running a faster time right now, and I know I'm a few months short of being in peak condition, so faster times lie ahead.  How fast, remains to be seen.

Last minute anxieties

Anticipation as the field lines up for the start of the
1978 Australian Marathon Championship
at Caboolture in Queensland

The anticipation for tomorrow's Melbourne Marathon is building, and as usual, some small hiccups are being encountered.

On checking my gear this morning, I discovered I had forgotten to pack my Terrigal Trotters singlet for the trip to Melbourne.  It's not a big deal, but it's a colourful and recognisable design making me easily identifiable to club-mates and others.  I may miss a few cheers along the way.

The weather forecast for tomorrow also looks a little dicey.  A cold front is forecast to move through some time during the day, and could be heralded with strong winds, rain showers, some thunderstorms and possibly hail.  Of course, this is Melbourne and there's every chance it could be fine.  If I thought I was a borderline chance to break three hours, I might be concerned.  However, without that pressure, I won't mind battling the elements if that's what happens.  Some of my most memorable running experiences involve outrageous weather.

Going OK (second from left) in the early stages of the
1978 Australian Marathon Championships

It's easy to lose your perspective as a big race approaches, and it's important not to be derailed by hiccups, or try do do anything special and/or different.  I have made mistakes in the past, and would hope I have learned some lessons, but still feel tempted to worry about little things or do something different.

I met yesterday with a friend's son who will be running his debut marathon tomorrow and much of our lunchtime conversation revolved around last minute race preparation and plans.  As usual, I'm good at telling other people what to do in such situations, and my advice was not to use "Goo's" during the race if he hasn't tried them before, not to buy some new socks for the race, not to drink too much, not to go out too fast, and so on.  He's a naturally talented athlete and I'm sure he will do fine and have some good stories to tell.  No doubt, within a week, he will be planning how to run a Personal Best in his next marathon.  There's no substitute for experience and we are all different.  He will work out over several races how best to get the most out of himself in a marathon.

Exhausted at the finish after a disappointing 1978 Australian
Marathon Championship (13th, 2:34:28).  [Three months
later I was 2nd in the first Melbourne Marathon in 2:23.]

For my training today, I walked an easy 5km.  My right Achilles was stiff and sore for the first kilometre or two, but loosened up after that and I enjoyed a sunny breezy Saturday morning.  I'm expecting the Achilles to be troublesome for the first 5km of tomorrow's race and I will need to avoid forcing it.  Hopefully, once it warms up, I will be able to settle into a good pace.

While walking, I thought about my race strategy for tomorrow.  If I feel I have lost ground in the early kilometres because of the Achilles, it will be tempting to try to make up time.  Overtaking runners can become addictive if you are running well, and I will need to avoid expending too much energy between 5km and half-way.  A guide will be the pacers provided by the organisers.  There is a group for every ten minutes between 2:50 to 4:30 (I do wonder about how accurately these groups will be able to judge their pacing given they are so close together), so my goal will be not to fall too far behind the 3:30 group at the start, and not to get ahead of the 3:10 group if I'm feeling good after the early kilometres.  This translates to no slower than 5:00 per kilometre average and no faster than 4:30 per kilometre average.

Now I just want the race to start.

1981 Melbourne Marathon

The lead bunch in the 1981 Melbourne Marathon at
about 5km.  I'm on the left and eventual winner, Andrew
Lloyd, is in the centre wearing the hat.

I ran a very gentle 5km this morning, telling myself that I was feeling fresh and in good form for Sunday's Melbourne Marathon.  It was very slow, but none of my chronic injuries were very painful, so that was a good sign.  Later I travelled into the city to pick up my race pack from the Runner's Expo and chatted with some friends I met there, before lunching with the son of a friend who will be running his debut marathon on Sunday.  All of these little events and meetings help build the anticipation for Sunday's run and are part of the marathon experience.  We're all wondering how things will turn out on the day, and just want to get running.

In yesterday's blog I wrote about how much the Melbourne Marathon was a part of my earlier running life and about my experience in the first Melbourne Marathon in 1978.

The leading bunch at around 5km of the
1981 Melbourne Marathon with me in
the foreground

By the time I ran the 1981 Melbourne "Big M" Marathon, I was recognised as an experienced marathon runner and a podium prospect in the races I ran.  I had also dealt with some career-threatening injuries, particularly a serious lower back problem, and was never sure I would make it to the start line of any particular event.  Another injury, to my left Achilles tendon, was serious enough to warrant anti-inflammatories and I was scheduled for surgery a month after the race.

My success in the 1978 "Big M", and subsequent personal best of 2:19 in the 1979 Victorian Marathon Championship, had also attracted a minor level of sponsorship with Brooks Shoes.  There was no money involved, but they supplied me with shoes and running clothing and I agreed to wear their running attire at certain events.  This was the case for the 1981 "Big M", and they had supplied me with their latest and greatest marathon running shoe a month before the event.  I wore them in lead-up long runs, including the week before the marathon on forestry roads from our weekend shack in the mountains about an hour east of Melbourne.  When I returned from that last long training run, while still wearing my running gear, I decided to cut up a fallen tree on our property before showering.  A log slipped as I was cutting and knocked the chainsaw down to my left foot where it neatly sliced through the top of one of my new shoes, but incredibly didn't draw any blood.  This is one of several occasions in my life where, but for some good fortune, serious injury or worse would have been incurred.  I had to sheepishly call the Brooks rep, explain my mishap, and request a replacement pair of shoes, which he supplied.

Around the 15km mark of the 1981 Melbourne Marathon,
Andrew Lloyd and I began to get away from the field

The race itself had a good field, including two-time winner, Andy Lloyd from Sydney, known throughout Australia as the "Fun Run King".  Andy later won the City to Surf Fun Run four times and represented Australia on the track, winning a Gold Medal in the 5000m at the 1990 Commonwealth Games (worth watching on Youtube).  He was a superbly talented and versatile runner who was probably wasting his time on the marathon at this early stage of his career.  Anyway, the pace was solid and steady from the start at about 16:00 per 5km, and a large bunch gradually thinned out until around half way, it was down to just Andy Lloyd and me.  After I had shadowed him for a while, he tired of my presence and began to throw in some surges, running faster for a few hundred metres and then backing off.  After a few of these, it had the desired effect and I dropped off as well.  With about 6km to go, his lead had stretched to about two and a half minutes, even though I was still running reasonably well.  At this point there was a slow climb on the course (Fitzroy Street) before a seemingly endless long finishing straight along the broad and tree-lined St Kilda Road.  The climb must have taken its toll on Andy because when I turned into St Kilda Road, I could see him and the lead car ahead and began making some ground on him.

Nearing the finish of the 1981 Melbourne Marathon
(2nd, 2:19:30)

My club, Kew-Camberwell, traditionally manned the 40km feeding station for the "Big M" Marathons, and one of the thrills of my life remains running through a tunnel of my screaming club-mates as I closed in on the tiring Andy.  Alas, I left my run too late and finished 27 seconds behind him in 2:19:30.

The postscript to this story is that Andy turned down the winner's prize of an all expenses paid trip to run in the 1982 Boston Marathon, and it was passed to me.  He had been the two previous years and apparently didn't feel the need to go again.  It was very generous of him to let me have the trip, and I took extra pleasure in watching his accomplishments in subsequent years.