Red Rock Canyon

Looking across Red Rock Canyon National Conservation
 Area towards the Calico Hills.

Over the past thirty years, I have visited Las Vegas as a tourist a handful of times.  Although gambling and shows have never been high on my personal priority list, the cheap accommodation and food, the mind-boggling extravagance of The Strip, and its location near such scenic wonders as the Hoover Dam, Death Valley and the Grand Canyon make it an attractive destination.

Calico Hills.

When you are staying in Las Vegas itself, there are few worthwhile running options, but at Red Rock Canyon, 25 kilometres out of town in the Mojave Desert, there are a number of trails to choose from.  After the flat monotony of the Las Vegas city landscape, it seems amazing to find such a spectacular park nearby.

Grand Circle Loop Trail, Red Rock Canyon.

My favourite run is the 18km Grand Circle Loop.  It starts from the Visitor Centre and begins climbing gradually, firstly following a dry watercourse beneath the red rocky bluffs of the Calico Hills and later across desert landscapes, occasionally crossing small dry creeks and at other times following low ridges.  In some places the running is easy and in others careful attention has to be paid on rocky technical trail.

The Grand Circle Loop trail finishes across the
 valley floor in Red Rock Canyon.

The highest elevation of about 1500m is reached at the half-way point and from there the run is mostly gradually downhill, initially below the White Rock Hills and then across the valley floor through sparse arid scrub.  The easier return running gives more chance to enjoy the expansive views back towards Las Vegas and of the surrounding rocky mountains.  A great run!

For my training today I ran an easy 5km through Copa on a balmy sunny morning.  My legs were stiff and sore from yesterday morning's run, but I didn't push the pace and it was a comfortable run.

Punctuated equilibrium

Hanging upside down was one of
the treatments I tried for my chronic
back injury.

When I was in my running prime, I gave little thought to athletic decline.  I knew many veteran (masters) runners and recognised my potential as a runner would decline as I aged.  However, I never thought much about the process.  If anything, I expected the decline to be a smooth glide path.  Each year would see slightly slower times for benchmark distances and I would be chasing podium places as I entered each new age group.  It was a naive and simplistic view of the process, and my only defence is that these issues seemed remote and I didn't give them sufficient thought.

Now, with ageing parents and my own ageing body, it has become obvious the process of ageing and athletic decline is more akin to the evolutionary biology theory of "punctuated equilibrium".  This postulates that, over time, long periods of stability with little change are punctuated by events causing significant change.  Rather than being on a gradual descent to our ultimate demise, or the end of our running career, we have periods, often lasting years, when our abilities and capabilities remain relatively static.  As runners, these stable periods may include various soft tissue injuries and oscillating fitness, but our basic capabilities are essentially unchanged.

Looking towards North Avoca from Avoca Beach
during this morning's walk.

Significant events for runners are those injuries from which we never really fully recover, despite how hard we train.  There were no more Personal Bests for me after a back injury (spondylolisthesis) sustained  in 1979 brought to an end the steady improvements I had seen in the preceding years.  Likewise, a serious knee injury in 2006 meant a lot of time off running and a limit on training load I could sustain in subsequent years.  I could plot other significant injuries over the years that have also had a lasting impact on my running capability.

Looking from Copa, low cloud covers Mount Bouddi
during this morning's walk.

Now I'm trying to reconcile myself to the capability change that will result from my Deep Vein Thrombosis and associated Pulmonary Embolism and Atrial Flutter.  I'm still in the midst of this "event" and don't know the level of capability I will emerge with, but it will almost certainly be less.  Goals will have to be recalibrated, or frustration will build.  I'm not reconciled to these changes yet, but can sense I am in the midst of the process and will eventually accept what must be.

This morning, I walked a comfortable 10km in misty rain beneath low cloud.  It was a nice change from the relentless summer weather of the last three weeks.

When to run again?

My walking route this morning took me through the
Avoca Beach Markets.

When I went to bed last night I had decided that today's exercise would include some light jogging.  It's not so much that I'm desperate for an endorphin high, or even the satisfying fatigue that follows a run.  It's more that I was very fit four weeks ago and I can feel that condition ebbing.  I know these feelings are familiar to all injured runners, but this time around I'm conscious that a miscalculation on when to start running again could feasibly have fatal consequences rather than just a setback in recovery time.

Avoca Beach Markets.

So, this morning, while enjoying my cup of decaffeinated coffee, I surfed the Web and pondered the most rational approach to a return to running.  I don't want to take stupid risks, but I don't want to be too timid either.  Finally, I decided to just walk 10km today and use the time to work out a rational strategy.  I do my best thinking while walking.

The first conclusion I reached was that the Deep Vein Thrombosis (DVT) diagnosed seventeen days ago was still at significant risk of throwing off small clots that could impact my lungs and heart.  Many sites on the Web indicated a minimum of four weeks and usually six weeks for DVT's to resolve themselves.  I should probably wait another three weeks and possibly an "all clear" from another ultrasound exam of the lower right leg before resuming jogging.

Avoca Beach Markets.

The second conclusion I reached was that my exercise, whether walking or running (when the time comes), should be at a pace which does not push my heart/lungs into what I'm calling the "Amber Zone".  Twice during today's 10km walk, near the top of steep and longish hills, I could feel myself beginning to struggle for breath and an unpleasant sort of pressure (not pain) building in the base of my chest as my heart began to race.  It was as though the clutch was slipping and no drive was being transferred from the engine to the wheels.  This was the same feeling I had when running faster up hills just before being diagnosed with Pulmonary Embolism (PE), so I'm becoming familiar with it.  I didn't have to stop walking for the sensation to abate today, but did need to slow right down to a dawdle.  I would define the "Red Zone" as being the need to stop and sit down, and I have not reached that point yet, nor do I want to.

Avoca Beach Markets.

Like most chronic injuries, I feel like I'm starting to get a handle on how to manage it, but know it is not wise to look for the "edge of the envelope" as has been my inclination in the past.  I also know that, even after the DVT has resolved itself and the clots in the lungs are no longer an issue (which could take months), I will still likely need some sort of medical procedure to address the Atrial Flutter problem before I can start running hard again.  Patience!

[I have posted my Post-DVT Training Diary here, or it is accessible from the Links menu at right.]

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.

Endurance athletes and A-fib

Greg Welch

My diagnosis with Atrial Fibrillation (AF) has had me researching the subject of endurance athletes with heart conditions.  My friend, Dr. Jon, forwarded me an article called "Atrial fibrillation and atrial flutter in athletes" when he heard of my diagnosis.  It reviews a number of studies of the subject and concludes "There is growing evidence that long-term endurance sports participation can result in.......the initiation and maintenance of AF......although the mechanisms explaining the relationship between these conditions remain to be elucidated".

It's not hard to find examples of endurance athletes who have had to deal with heart problems.  Just in Australia, high-achieving triathletes, Greg Welch, Emma Carney, Erin Densham and Chris Legh have all had treatment for serious heart conditions and, in some cases, been forced to cease elite competition.  It can sound scary!

Emma Carney

But they are all a lot younger than me (making it much tougher for them, of course) and maybe they were predisposed genetically to their problems.  Nevertheless, without having any personal knowledge, I doubt that they would change much about their competitive lives, and particularly the intensity of their training.  They achieved great things by maximising their potential through hard and disciplined effort, and I admire them.

Erin Densham

We are all individuals and the medical studies point out correlations, possible explanations and areas for future study with respect to cohorts.  There are no certainties, or even probabilities, that long-term endurance runners will have dangerous heart problems affecting their quality of life.

I would like to see a study that quantifies the enhanced quality of life enjoyed by endurance runners over the course of their careers.  I believe the benefits would far outweigh any costs.

Tapering

Start of the 1977 ACT Marathon (I'm in there somewhere)

Tapering for a marathon used to be one of my favourite times.  The training pressure comes off, and you can run for less time and less intensely without guilt.  If your training has gone well, pleasant anticipation of the race builds and visions of success become almost palpable.  As your body freshens up and minor injuries abate, you feel stronger and more capable as each day passes.

Conversely, tapering can be a worrying time.  Rationality can go out the window and emotions can take over.  After training hard for months, you wonder about the wisdom of reduced training intensity and fret about losing your edge, or putting on weight.  A lot of self-examination goes on.  Small niggles becomes potentially serious injuries.  Every training run becomes a test of your readiness, and if the run is hard work, you question whether you are ill or over-trained, or maybe under-trained.  If anybody coughs near you, or complains of feeling unwell, your first thought is of your own health, and not theirs.  There is a temptation to modify your diet to include more carbohydrates and build your energy reserves, maybe even precede it with a depletion phase.

Nearing the end of the 1977 ACT Marathon (2nd, 2:32)

Over the years, I have fallen foul of all of these concerns, and maybe still do (see post titled The idea forms).  However, when asked by others for advice about tapering, my response tends to be more rational.  I think two weeks of taper is enough, with training distances and intensity reduced to 75% of full load in the first week, and 50% in the second week.  However, it's hard to generalise about the appropriate level of tapering, and some runners need not cut their training intensity by that much.  Having said that, I don't think I have ever felt, post-race, that I tapered too much.

Otherwise, I like to keep things as normal as possible, sticking with the usual training routines and diet.  The very act of tapering will lead to a build-up of the body's energy stores, and there is risk attached to changing diet and habits.  It's worth staying away from sick people and catching up on any sleep deficit.  Finally, I would advise having faith in the training you have done and not fretting about losing condition or feeling over-tired on any runs in the taper period.

For reasons discussed in yesterday's post, Get fit quick, I only plan a one week taper for the Melbourne Marathon on 13 October, and am still training relatively hard this week.  I expected this morning's run to be difficult after yesterdays 37km road run, but it went better than hoped.  It wasn't fast by any means, but the 11.5km  passed by easily enough and my legs did not feel too fatigued.  My right Achilles tendon was quite stiff and sore, but that was anticipated, and my right knee was less painful than expected.  Overall, the run was encouraging and I feel my short-term fitness strategy may be working.

Why running?

Richmond Park, London

Running has dominated my life, as readers of this blog and people who know me, will attest.  It is a passion, and maybe an obsession and addiction.  I believe people need to have a passion or passions to get the most out of life, but those passions vary widely.  It's hard to know how much is determined by nature versus nurture, or maybe just accident.  I think nature and nurture both play a role in the kind people we are and the things that appeal to and captivate us, but that much of our lives is determined by accidents or coincidences.  We encounter people, opportunities and things, often unexpectedly, that change our lives.

Schoolboys Cross-Country Race in Richmond Park (1967)

I have pondered what set me on the road to being a passionate (some might say obsessed) runner.  If I had to pick one thing, I would say 'size' - absolute and relative.  As a child, I enjoyed team sports, and was reasonably good at them, but I was a late developer and by my mid-teens didn't have the physical mass to hold my own in rugby, nor the height to be a good fast bowler in cricket.  Though still in the school teams for each, it was becoming apparent to me that I wasn't going to keep my place in senior teams.  Relative size was also important, because about this time my (20-month) younger brother caught me in height and not only started beating me at tennis, but was also an excellent rugby and cricket player.  I was losing the battle in the sibling rivalry stakes, and as many siblings do, I looked for something else where I might distinguish myself.

Tiffin Boys Grammar School

I was attending Tiffin Boys Grammar School in the London suburb of Kingston-on-Thames at the time (my father had been posted to London for three years with his job) and cross-country running was a school sport.  It was mostly inhabited by those not interested in team sports, and it was noticeable that when the annual school cross-country race came around, it was always someone from one of the rugby teams who won, not a member of the cross-country team.  It was a 'poor relation' sport, but that made it easier to excel and I had a number of friends on the team.  I even won a race once against another school's team, but was certainly not outstanding.  Many of our school races were in the nearby Richmond Park, a seemingly vast expanse of grassland, hills, small woods and many trails, and I came to love the place.

Running on the Tiffin Boys
Grammar School playing
field in 1967

As an incentive to train, there was a club within the school called the All Weather Running Club, looked after by my Chemistry teacher.  The goal of club members was to run from the school to the gates of Richmond Park and back, every Tuesday and Thursday night after school during the autumn and winter terms, regardless of the weather.  It was only a two-mile roundtrip, but for fifteen and sixteen year olds to do it voluntarily through frequently foul weather and in winter darkness, without missing a scheduled night, was significant and a source of pride.  I began to think of myself as a tough and accomplished runner, despite a lack of competitive success.

Around this time, at my initiative, a friend from the team and I rode our bikes up to the gates of Richmond Park one Saturday and then ran non-stop right around the perimeter paths of the Park, about 12 kilometres.  This seemed an incredible distance to us, our families and our friends, and gave me the kind of recognition and self-esteem I craved as an under-sized teenager.  Soon afterwards, I returned to Australia and continued my running career at Melbourne High School and Monash University where more encounters and coincidences further grew my passion for running.

My right knee was very sore overnight, and the right Achilles was stiff and sore this morning, but I expected that after yesterday's long run on fire-trails.  I haven't had a day off for a while so was happy just to walk gently for 5km this morning around the local streets.  The Achilles hurt a little while walking, but not enough for me to think running tomorrow will be a problem.  I feel a sense of optimism after yesterday's run that I'm on my way back.  It's hard to explain what has changed, and I have to be careful not to get too enthused.  My doctor has told me in the past that I have borderline low white and red blood cell counts, and it almost feels like the oxygen carrying capacity of my blood has suddenly improved in the past week.  No drugs are involved, so I have to assume that I've been ailing with something that has now passed.  Of course, this diagnosis is not based on anything other than a gut feeling, and may be wildly off the mark.  The next few weeks will tell.

Technology

Gloucester, NSW

I don't own a GPS watch as used by many runners these days.  It's not that I have a philosophical objection to them, it's just that they look a bit bulky and don't meet any of my current running needs.  I do, however, like to use MapMyRun for plotting routes and measuring distances, and wish it had been available 30 or 40 years ago.  In my earlier running career, distances were calculated using street directories, rulers, paper and pencil, and measuring a long run was a big exercise, especially if the roads weren't straight.  These days it's relatively easy to measure a course pre- or post-run on my computer and save the information for another day.

Another great advantage of MapMyRun and Google Maps is being able to work out a running course in an unfamiliar area.  In years gone by, when on extended touring trips in Europe and North America, many of my daily training runs consisted of running out along a main road for 20 or 30 minutes, turning around and then running back the same way.  If the main road was busy or lacked a shoulder, the run could be unpleasant.  Nevertheless, when you're in a strange town and don't have detailed maps, it's not always a good idea just to set out along a side road in the hope you'll be able to find a safe loop of the desired distance.  Often on these minor roads you can encounter unrestrained territorial dogs, or perhaps find yourself unexpectedly on private property or at a dead end.  Maybe you just get uncomfortably stared at by folks unused to the sight of a runner on their back road.  Of course, these things can happen even if you know where you are going, but at least the maps, satellite views and photography can give you a better idea of the roads, distances, settlements and terrain.

Oops!  There's supposed to be a bridge here

This morning, after the long run yesterday, I was looking for an easy 10km running route from our motel in the small town of Gloucester that didn't involve running out of town along the main road.  Using MapMyRun, I worked out a loop of 9km that kept to the local back streets and minor roads of the town and set off at a very easy pace, with my Achilles tendon and knee both still painful from yesterday's run.  After about 3km, I went to turn right along a street on my planned route to find a dead end.  Alas, Google Maps and MapMyRun showed a bridge crossing a small creek on the edge of town where no bridge existed.  I could see the gravel road I planned to run along on the other side of the creek, but would have had to wade across to get there.  I abbreviated my run to 7km following a few other minor roads and didn't encounter any dogs or banjo players.  So much for technology! 

Barrington Tops

Sharon tackling one of the obstacles on
the Link Track

Being in the Barrington Tops area for a couple of days, I just had to search out a nice long trail run for Sharon and me to do today.  Neither of us is in great form at present.  My problems have been documented ad nauseam in this blog and Sharon has been making a slow comeback from shin stress fractures.

The route we chose was the Link Track that connects the Gloucester Tops to Barrington Tops via a forested ridge, a 34km out-and-back trip, starting at about 1300m and climbing to about 1500m at the Carey's Peak turnaround.  It was forecast to be a warm day, so the idea of running at altitude had some appeal.  It was also quite windy, so that helped keep us cool as well.

The track wasn't that hilly, but was narrow and technical in many parts.  The terrain varied from glades of Antarctic beech to more tussocky open alpine forest.  We had the place to ourselves and saw no-one at all, despite it being school vacation time.

Beautiful trail running on the Link Track

It turned into a run of two halves, with me leading on the way out, waiting at the top of hills for Sharon to catch up, taking pictures, and walking the more significant hills.  Sadly it was quite hazy at Carey's Peak, so the views were restricted, but it was still impressive.  I started to feel very achy and sleepy as we began the return trip and soon it was Sharon waiting for me on the hills and taking the photographs.  The further I went the more liberal became my interpretation of what was a hill, and therefore walkable.

With a few kilometres to go, I caught Sharon making hand signals at a distance to indicate the presence of a snake on the track and I got a good picture.  From there, I pretty much walked all the way back to the car, feeling absolutely exhausted.

Some wildlife on the Link Track

I shouldn't feel this bad, so will write it off to remnants of the illness I had on the weekend.  By contrast, Sharon was very happy with her run, being easily the longest she has done for some time.

On the plus side for me, my Achilles pain wasn't too bad and the knee bearable during the run.  Neither seems to be worse post-run, but I did kick a rock or stump during the second half of the run and felt sharp pain in the right arch that was giving me problems a couple of months ago.  Hopefully, it will be fine.

Despite my exhaustion, I count myself lucky to have been able run/walk through such an environment, and will relish the memory.  I think the Australian bush is in my DNA and I always feel right at home there.  Despite going quite slowly, we essentially completed what is supposed to be a two-day hike in just 5.5 hours.  Trail running gives you many more options in wild country.

Glimmers

Terrigal Trotters preparing to leave Yarramalong for
Somersby along the Great North Walk trail

After a late night ensuring all of the Terrigal Trotters finished the 28km Yarramalong to Somersby trail run safely, I didn't get to bed until about 12:30am, still feeling a bit under the weather but happy that the runners, especially those new to night running, seemed to have enjoyed the experience.  It's always nice to organise an event that attracts interest and goes off well, but it's even more rewarding to see people willing to explore outside of their comfort zone and finish knowing they have accomplished something that would intimidate others.

McMasters Fire Trail

I slept in and woke feeling better than yesterday, but left going for a run until late morning on a beautiful warm and sunny spring day.  Having missed the trails last night I decided to run one of my favourite local 10km runs that incorporates McMasters Fire-Trail with some nice bush, though also some challenging hills.

This morning's run finished around Cockrone Lagoon

The further I ran, the better I felt and the more confident I was that whatever ailed me yesterday has passed.  The climbs were tough, but I didn't push it, and the trail sections were magic.  On the flat and downhill sections, I actually felt I was moving freely for a change, despite still nursing my right knee and taking care not to over-stretch the right Achilles tendon.  Of course my weekly mileage is down, so I should be feeling fresher, but the contrast to how I felt yesterday was stark.  Maybe there is a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel I have been running through for the past couple of months.  It's certainly nice to have a run that is almost 100% enjoyable for a change, but I'm not getting carried away just yet.

Nevertheless, it gives me hope that perseverance will yield results and that I should keep trying to run as often as possible, even when it is a grind.  I'm a believer in "use it or lose it" and once you start lowering your expectations, the outcome becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.  Additionally, it's sometimes easy to forget that although the hour of exercise each day might be hard work, painful, and not particularly enjoyable, the consequent well-being and quality of life bestowed on the other 23 hours of the day are a more-than-adequate reward.

Some kind of bug

Terrigal Trotters tackle the Hastings Road
hill during this morning's run
(courtesy: Adam Couchman)

Not much forward progress today, nor much to write about.  I had a sleepless night and woke with a headache, nausea and tired legs.  Hoping that the usual large mug of black coffee would give me a boost, I headed down to Terrigal Trotters for the Fragrant Garden-Erina Valley 11km run, one of my favourites on a beautiful Spring morning.  A slow 1.5km warm-up jog did not improve my sense of well-being, so I started the run cautiously hoping I would feel better later on, but I never did.

My legs were heavy all the way up the Terrigal Drive hill and I was well back in the field thinking I might end up walking at any moment.  I did walk up some of the later steeper hills and was, unusually, one of the last runners back to Terrigal, although I'm starting to wonder whether I should get used to it.  No doubt I have some kind of bug, and in a few days will feel better, but it's hard not to get depressed.

To top it off, I was planning to run, slowly, our first Trotters night trail run tonight - 28km from Yarramalong to Somersby - but that now seems very unwise.  I will still go, as the organiser, but it will be hard watching the 25 runners head off for a night of adventure.  Instead, I will drive to a few access points just to make sure everything's OK.

Strategising

Crossing Austria as part of my 2012 Via Alpina hike

I did manage to run 5km this morning, but I felt slow and heavy-legged.  I took care to minimise the strain on my injured right knee and it survived the distance without getting worse, but my right Achilles tendon was sore and I didn't feel like I was moving well.  With an Achilles tendon injury, my body subconsciously responds to the pain signals by shortening my stride length and avoiding pushing off too hard from that leg.  The consequence is an inefficient gait, more effort to run at the same speed, and premature fatigue.

Crossing a river on the Old Telegraph Track in Far North
Queensland during my ride between the southernmost and
northernmost tips of the Australian mainland in 2006

Even accounting for the Achilles and knee problems, running has been a chore of late.  Apart from a very modest performance at the Woodford to Glenbrook 25km a few weeks ago, satisfying runs have been scarce for three months.  It's enough to make me wonder whether I need some kind of circuit breaker, a period where my body can get back on an even keel.  In the last ten years, such a circuit breaker has been provided by the annual hiking or biking adventures I have been lucky enough to enjoy in retirement.  In almost every case, I have finished the adventure feeling fit, strong, refreshed and ready to resume my running career.  Maybe it's been one of the reasons my running career has lasted through these last ten years.

My intention had been to dedicate myself to running the best marathon I possibly could in the period up until mid-2014, but I'm worried that my right Achilles tendon injury might be a show-stopper.  My favourite medico, Dr Jon, is away for a few weeks, but when he gets back, I intend to find out whether surgery is needed.  My expectation is that I have a calcification on the heel which is inflaming the tendon and will need to be removed.  An MRI will tell the tale.  If surgery is required, then it will almost certainly involve a lengthy rehabilitation period and the shelving of any short-to-medium term running ambitions.  It may be the right time to embark on another hiking expedition, once ankle function has been regained, and I'll be looking at the Pacific Crest Trail in the United States and the Te Araroa Trail in New Zealand (see Downtime post) as primary candidates.

For the time being, however, I'll soldier on as best I can, hoping that something turns up, and continue the blog.

Dubbo Gully

The start of the descent to the Mangrove
Creek Valley.  Gymea lilies on the right.

I wanted to do a long run today, but couldn't face the idea of running on the roads near home.  I was still a bit tired from the race last Sunday, and my abortive run Round the Bay last Monday (see Post)was still fresh in my mind.  I needed to go somewhere more interesting, so drove 45 minutes  to Mangrove Mountain to run the Dubbo Gully loop through Yengo National Park, a favourite of runners and mountain bikers.

One of the great benefits of retirement is that I can go to such places mid-week and have them to myself.  There are two main Dubbo Gully options, a 25km and a 30km, with the 25km most commonly run or biked.  I really wanted to do the 30km, despite knowing it would be hard work and having struggled on it on previous occasions.  I chose to run the loop anti-clockwise, meaning the turn-off for the longer course came after 10km rather than 14km, making it less likely I would squib it and take the shorter course.  It also meant that the only water available on the course came later in the run.

Early settlers' graves in the Mangrove Creek valley

My right Achilles was sore from the moment I got up, but I was hopeful that adding the new heel raises that arrived yesterday to my trail shoes would alleviate some of the pressure.  I set out around 8:30am on a mild morning for the long 3km downhill stretch into the Mangrove Creek valley, not feeling particularly spritely, but pleased that my Achilles pain was minimal.  It's hard not to run this downhill section without wondering how well you will manage the return journey.  It is a long hill.

Looking across Yengo National Park

I was already quite warm by the time I reached the bridge across the Mangrove Creek, so removed my T-shirt and hid it for retrieval on the return journey.  I was starting to think that I should have hidden a Gatorade there as well.  My pace was slow and I enjoyed the quiet valley, which had once been the home to settlers but now formed part of the National Park.  There were open pastures by the Creek, and I passed a small settlers' graveyard by the side of the road.  There was little breeze and just the sounds of birds to disturb the stillness.  This really is one of my favourite places to run or ride.  I left the valley for the long climb through the forest on Donny's Track, scaring the occasional lyrebird which ran screeching off into the bush, and hearing rustles in the leaf matter by the trail every so often, probably a lizard, but maybe a snake.  Although I was running very slowly, the climb went better than expected and soon I was at the turn-off for the 30km course.

Mangrove Creek valley

The next 5km is gnarly fire-trail, with many short steep and rocky climbs and descents, and it always wears me down, despite the inspiring wilderness views and amazing alien-like Gymea lilies beside the track.  After the long gradual downhill following this section, I passed up the opportunity to get a drink of tank water from the rustic Ten Mile Hollow camping area, thinking I could make it through the remaining 13km back to the car.  By the time I reached the Mangrove Creek valley floor again, I was feeling very tired and from there it just became a slog back to the bridge and up the last 3km to the car.  At times, up the hill, I seemed to be barely moving, but with the exception of a short 20 metre section, I kept running.  My time was abysmally slow, 3:23, and I thought nostalgically back to times when I have run this course at a good speed and finished full of running.  On the plus side, my right Achilles tendon wasn't too painful so the heel raises had been a success.  My new asthma medication did seem to help me fill my lungs, but I was still coughing badly the whole way, perhaps the result of spring allergies.  Hopefully, this run will be "money in the bank" and I'll be stronger as a result.  That's the way it has worked in the past.

(More photographs taken on the Dubbo Gully run can be seen here)

Acclimatisation

Jack Foster winning the
1975 Honolulu Marathon

It was unseasonably warm overnight, with the temperature staying above 20°C.  Blustery northerly winds had raised the temperature to near 30°C by the time I headed out for an easy 10km at mid-morning.  Although the heat made the run harder work, I welcomed it.  I have a theory that you need to run in hot weather for about a week before your body adapts to make the running easier.  So the early days of heat in any summer will initially be hard work.  It's very hard to go from cold weather to warm weather and run well straight away.  A period of acclimatisation is needed.  This morning's run should have started that process for the coming summer.

The heat reminded me of a story I had been told about Jack Foster, a great New Zealand marathon runner, famous for the world record times he ran in his 40s (2:11:18) and 50s (2:20:28).  He only started running at the age of 32.  In early 1978, Jack was keen to get a place on the New Zealand team for the Commonwealth Games to be held in Edmonton, Canada, in August of that year.  For whatever reason, maybe injury, Jack hadn't run a qualifying time and was desperately looking for a certified marathon somewhere in Australasia to record a good time.  The only marathon he could find was in April in Whyalla, a remote steel town in South Australia, so he wrote to them and they invited him to run as their guest.  It was a new marathon and they were keen to get the publicity.  I heard this story the next year, when I was fortunate enough to be invited by the organisers to be their guest runner.

At least I managed to get on the same poster
as Jack Foster

Anyway, Jack needed to run a time of something like 2:16 to qualify and was optimistic that the flat Whyalla course would give him every chance.  Unfortunately for Jack, Whyalla can get hot, even in autumn, and during the race the temperature rose to 34°C.  The organisers had a huge barrel of water at about the 20 mile mark which they were intending to use as a source of water to douse passing runners.  By 20 miles, Jack's hopes of a qualifying time had evaporated in the heat, and the organisers told me that Jack actually jumped in the barrel of water to cool off before continuing to the finish in 2:26:52.  A year later, without the heat, I won in 2:27:43, so I have an appreciation for Jack's talents.  Sadly he was killed in a collision with a car while out training on his bike at the age of 72.

My right Achilles tendon was still quite sore when I set out for today's run, and I did wonder whether I was wise running at all.  But this injury has been with me for some years, and comes and goes in intensity, so I'm hoping careful management will help it settle down.  Part of that careful management is not forcing it, so I wasn't able to stretch out.  My running style felt awkward, which it was, and I'm sure I looked like an old man going out for a jog, which I was.  I hoped it might loosen up on the one kilometre climb out of Copa, but if it did, it was only a little.  I felt less fatigued than expected, given the 25km trail race on Sunday, but it got harder in the last kilometres as the hills and heat took their toll.

My time for my regular 10km loop was slow, 58 minutes, but that was of no consequence today.  The weather conditions were bad for anybody with breathing issues and the run was accompanied by lots of coughing and spluttering.  The mailman brought the new Sorbothane heel raises I had ordered today, so I'm hoping that will give my Achilles tendon some relief, and a visit to the doctor later resulted in a reversion to the former asthma medication which my body seemed to handle better.  I may risk a longer run tomorrow.

Woodford to Glenbrook

The Terrigal Trotters team ready for the Woodford to
Glenbrook 25km trail race
(Courtesy Judy Murray)

It was with some trepidation that I joined the Terrigal Trotters bus down to run the Woodford to Glenbrook 25km trail race in the Blue Mountains west of Sydney.  My right Achilles hurt, even just walking around this morning, and the poor run I had yesterday cast further doubt over my ability to perform well.

At least it was cool and overcast in Woodford, and we were there in sufficient time for me to jog a gentle 3km warm-up, including a couple of stride-throughs over 50 metres.  The Achilles gradually warmed up, but was still restricting my stride.  This injury is starting to get serious, and I fear, may lead to an extended period off running.  Anyway, for today, I decided to stick to my plan of starting slowly, and hopefully, getting faster once loosened up.

Post race presentations
(Courtesy Judy Murray)

The first few kilometres incorporated several short hills and I was quickly well back in the field, but thereafter I gradually started to make up ground and continued to do so for the balance of the race.  There were plenty of steep loose rock and gravel fire-trail descents in the first half of the race, and I backed my sure-footedness and passed plenty of people.  I wasn't trying to run fast, but instead just tried to make use of gravity, avoid braking, and maintain momentum.  In days gone by, I used to pride myself on how fast I could descend technical track.  You can get into a zone where the decision about where to plant your foot at the end of each stride is not made until you are in the air.  The adrenalin pumps and split-second decisions are important.  It's exciting, and I felt a little bit of that excitement at times today on the descents.

Mistakenly receiving the trophy for the first Over 60.  I had to
hand it back 10 seconds later to someone who had beaten me
by 30 seconds  (Courtesy Judy Murray)

The last 10km of the race is mostly flat or slightly downhill on broad fire-trail, and although I was tired and well-back in the field, I successfully maintained good form and momentum and made up a number of places.  My finishing time of 2:01 was well-below what I would have hoped to run if fit, but I was pleased with the way I maintained my effort for the whole race, and had feared I might do much worse.

On the downside, my right Achilles heel has become extremely inflexible and painful since the race, and I'm having difficulty walking.  I don't plan to run tomorrow, and will just hope, that as the inflammation wanes, I get some flexibility back and can run on Tuesday.  If not, I think it will be off to the doctor for an MRI.

Training through races

Terrigal Trotters getting ready to head for the Avoca Steps

Tomorrow is the Woodford to Glenbrook 25km trail race in the Blue Mountains, west of Sydney, and I'm travelling down with a busload of Terrigal Trotter clubmates.  The event was originally scheduled for late June, but was postponed because heavy rain had led to the National Park, through which the event runs, being closed.  I'm not in shape to take the race seriously, but not having run it before, I decided to keep my place in the bus and in the event.

Rounding Avoca Lagoon

That meant a decision had to be made about whether I should do all of this morning's 13.5km Avoca Steps run with Trotters, or have an easy day and rest up for tomorrow.  In days gone by, when I was training for a big event some months in the future, I rarely let myself ease up for an interim race unless it happened to coincide with a scheduled easier week's training.  Over time, experience showed me that whether I eased up or not, didn't seem to affect the quality of performances.  If you eased up, you felt physically and mentally fresher, but by the middle of the race it seldom made much difference.  I'm not saying you should train hard the day before.  In any training schedule, even when there is a heavy load, there should be easier/recovery days between the quality days.  I would just schedule that easier day before the day of the race.

Near the top of the Avoca Steps

After mulling over my options, I decided that shortening today's run so I felt better for tomorrow's run was not consistent with my need to maintain some training intensity.  Instead, I decided to run the full distance, but take it easy and avoid getting competitive.  To deal with the bronchial trouble, I took two puffs of Ventolin about half an hour before the run.  Maybe this was the reason that climbing the first steep hill out of Terrigal, my heart felt like it was racing and I struggled to get any rhythm.  I plodded up the hill, hoping things would get better, but they never did.  Although my heart rate settled down, my legs felt leaden, perhaps the result of standing around at an art exhibition for three hours last night, or maybe connected to the earlier Ventolin-induced exertions.

The Avoca Steps were very hard work, as was the last hill up Tramway, and I finished the run near the back of the field, very tired and somewhat demoralised.  My painful right Achilles had restricted my stride, and my right arch was still a little sore, so they may also have been factors.  I just have to remember that, although not stellar by any means, I ran better on Wednesday and last Saturday, so this morning's run should not be seen as representative of my current fitness.

I'll give the Ventolin a miss for tomorrow's run, start slowly, and hope I can redeem myself a bit.

Anniversary

Start of the 1978 Bay to Breakers
(Central Coast Express, 31 August 1978)

Terrigal Trotters is celebrating it's 30th Anniversary today and began with a Relay Race, boys vs girls, from Gosford to Terrigal tracing the old Bay to Breakers Fun Run course.  I wasn't part of the team, which consisted of eleven runners, each running a one kilometre leg, but I was helping with the organisation and this required being in Terrigal before 4:30am this morning.

The teams were handicapped to ensure a close finish and were hoping to beat the times posted in the 20th Anniversary Relay and the respective men's and women's records for the old race.  The race started around 5:20am in Gosford and the finishers were cheered into the car park at Terrigal Surf Club around 6:00am by the 100 or so runners assembled for the regular 6:00am Trotters Saturday morning run.  The men just beat the women and the 20th Anniversary time, but neither side beat the race records.

Rob De Castella on his way to victory
(Central Coast Express, 31 August 1978)

I actually ran in the old Bay to Breakers 35 years ago, so before Terrigal Trotters actually formed.  I can't remember why I journeyed from Melbourne up to Gosford to run, but it wasn't with any expectations of winning prizes.  Although I was a competent Fun Runner, I was rarely on the podium, and particularly not in races where the prizes included overseas air travel as was the case for this race in 1978.

As it turned out, I was a long way behind Rob De Castella who won in 32:24 for the 11km distance.  Rob went on to a stellar marathon career, including a World Championship win in 1983.  I finished in 18th place in 36:00, which would have seemed disappointing at the time, but seems very fast to me now.

1978 Bay to Breakers results
(Central Coast Express, 31 August 1978)

After this morning's Relay, we all set off for the 15km run to the top of Kincumba Mountain and return.  I had a couple of puffs of Ventolin before starting in the hope that it would facilitate my breathing after a couple of tough days with a tight chest.  It did seem to help but my legs remained heavy and I still felt off-colour, possibly not helped by the early start to the day.  Anyway, I persevered and tried to maintain a reasonable pace for the whole run, despite a very sore right Achilles, and finished happy that I had made the distance.

It will be a late night tonight, with further Trotters Anniversary celebrations, so I will have an easy day tomorrow and hope that I'm up for a long run on Monday morning.  I really don't want the minor health problems of the past week to derail my plan for returning to fitness, and that means getting in a long run in the next two days.