Building confidence

One of the smaller hills (Scenic Highway) on this
morning's run.

After a quiet training day yesterday, I decided I should run a bit further today and was pleased to find that I didn't feel too bad once I started running.  I wore my Hoka shoes for the fourth day in a row, and am wondering whether the extra cushioning is making a difference to the fatigue in my joints and thereby hastening recovery.  They also seem to be better for my chronic right Achilles injury, but as has been the case since I got them, they don't help my chronic right knee injury which is more painful.  I guess I need to strike a balance and alternates between my Hokas and my Nikes to make sure neither injury worsens to the point of being unable to run.

It is illustrative of my state of mind that I'm now focussing on musculoskeletal issues instead of my heart rate, and that's a positive sign, I suppose.  I haven't worn my heart monitor for a few weeks, so thought that today's run - 15km on road with a few significant hills - would be a good time to see how it's managing.  It's a course I have run quite quickly in the past, and the hills are hard enough to make my heart work harder.

My heart rate chart from this morning's run.

After the first couple of kilometres, including the dreaded one kilometre climb out of Copa, I was warmed up and settled into a steady maintainable pace, without testing my limits.  It was warm and humid, but I negotiated the remaining hills comfortably and managed 4:45 mins/km pace without pushing it for the last few kilometres along the flat Scenic Highway.  Although hot and sweaty by the time I finished, I didn't feel very fatigued and was satisfied with my time, given the effort applied.

On checking the heart monitor readout after the run, I found that my heart rate never exceeded 160bpm and averaged 143bpm for the run, which is very acceptable.  The question now is whether I should risk working a little harder to see how well it sustains a higher rate.  My guess is that it will be just fine, but there's no reason to rush anything.  For the moment, I'll keep my mileage around 80 km/wk and build confidence as time goes by, I lose a few kilograms, and my running fitness grows.

Returning to the scene

Crossing Mangrove Creek early in
today's run.

Perhaps irrationally, I was a little anxious about today's long run because it involved returning, for the first time, to the place where I think my serious health problems - Deep Vein Thrombosis (DVT), Pulmonary Embolism (PE), Atrial Flutter (AFl) - began sixteen weeks ago.  I was running the 25km version of the Dubbo Gully loop today, not the 30km version of that day, but the weather promised to be humid again.

Dubbo Gully.

The first thing I did was make sure that I was well-hydrated before the run and that I had another sports drink waiting for me when I finished.  My best theory is, that back in December, I completed the run dehydrated and didn't drink much afterwards before having a post-run nap.  Vein damage from my chronic right knee injury, exacerbated by dehydration and low blood pressure, caused clotting (DVT) some of which ultimately found its way to my lungs causing a PE.  The lungs lost function and placed excessive pressure on my heart, generating debilitating AFl over the subsequent week.  You've heard it all before, if you are a reader of this blog.

Dubbo Gully wetlands.

Anyway, despite taking the extra precautions, I remained somewhat anxious.  The run, with Sharon and some friends, started slowly down a very long descent, and I hung back, still a little stiff and sore from yesterday's run and not wanting to strain.  I never pushed the pace, but after warming up, gradually drew away from the others on the long climbs later on the run.  Despite sweating a lot and working hard, so far as I could tell, my heart continued to beat regularly.  Both knees hurt, particularly down hills, and I cursed the extra three to four kilograms I'm carrying - so easy to put it on and so hard to get it off.  I feel sure, that without the extra weight, I would be running faster with less knee pain.  Hopefully time will tell.

Almost finished.

The course finished with a steady 3km climb, which is always tough, but pleasingly I managed to run the whole way.  My time of 2:43 was slow compared to the 2:58 run in December for the 30km version, but not that bad.  I drank and kept moving after the run and don't feel like I have damaged myself in any way.  It gives me increased confidence that the bad times are behind me and I'm looking forward to my next Dubbo Gully run.

Just can't help myself

My run this morning circled Avoca Lagoon.

I ran my usual post-track session, 11km loop from Terrigal Haven this morning, and although I felt tired the whole way, my form was OK and my time three minutes faster than last week.  At one point during the run, Chris, a very well-performed triathlete and fellow Trotter, cruised past me easily, but he didn't outpace me as quickly as expected and I could imagine that in another month or two I could be training at the same pace.

When I resumed running following my DC Cardioversion in late-February, I announced to everyone that I was going to become a "recreational runner" rather than a "competitive runner", in a self-imposed attempt to reduce the chances of a recurrence of my Atrial Flutter heart problem.  I recognised that 45 years of competitive running was going to be a hard habit to break, but thought that the downside of the heart problem recurrence would be sufficient motivation.

Avoca Lagoon.

After five weeks of a gradually increasing running load, I'm almost at the point of admitting defeat in my quest to remain "recreational".  My comeback just feels like any other comeback from a running injury, and my limiting factors seem to be musculoskeletal as much as cardiovascular, i.e., my legs as much as my breathing.  And I just can't help pushing at the edge of the envelope to see if I can coax further improvement.  It's proving impossible to turn off that competitive gene.  Even though I am managing to avoid completely trashing myself in any one run, I now find myself running up hills much the same as I used to, going as hard as I can while running "within myself".  I would define the latter as being very tired, but not losing form or breathing regularity.

I described walking and running while suffering from Atrial Flutter as being like driving a car whose clutch was slipping.  The engine (my cardiovascular system) was working hard, but the power was not being transmitted to the legs.  I haven't had that feeling once since the DC Cardioversion.  Instead, I feel that everything is operating as it should and always has, apart from the Atrial Flutter episode.

As each week goes by, my confidence is growing that there will not be a recurrence.  I have scoured the online literature for information about the risks of recurrence, but there is a frustrating paucity of studies pertinent to my age and physical condition.  It does seem that the longer I go without a recurrence, the less likely one is to occur, but it can't be ruled out.  Nor is it possible to identify any risk factor I have that makes a recurrence more likely.  I'm starting to tend towards the view that I should just return to my life as though I had never had the heart problem, rather than imposing boundaries (that may make no difference) on myself.  If the worst happens, then a Catheter Ablation is a very viable, and usually successful, option already suggested by my Cardiologist.  I'll continue to gradually increase my running load, but won't target any races, thus avoiding the pressure to train that accompanies a looming event.

Coast to Kosciusko

Runners line up for the start of the 2009 Coast to Kosci
on the beach at Twofold Bay.

For my training today, I ran the same local "garbage run" 10km course that I suffered through last week (see Benchmarks).  I still felt tired and sore from Monday's long run and my expectations for the run were low.  The first couple of kilometres matched those expectations but as I warmed up I felt better and managed to run all of the way, including up the Avoca Steps, which I hadn't managed a week ago.  My time was slow by historical standards, but better than last week.  Maybe I'm getting fitter.

Not all of my most memorable running experiences have been when I was running.  In 2009, I was asked by my friend, Carl, to be part of his support crew for the 240km race from the Coast to Kosciusko - sea level near Eden on the NSW south coast to the top of Australia's highest mountain, Kosciusko, 2228m.  Carl is a character and a well-performed distance runner, so it promised to be an entertaining few days, and I wasn't let down.  I wrote the article below about our shared adventure for the Terrigal Trotters newsletter.
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CREWING FOR CARL

When I volunteered to join Steve as support crew for Carl in this year’s Coast to Kosciusko Ultramarathon, I thought we would be in for an entertaining weekend….and I wasn’t disappointed.

Carl motoring early in the race.

The fun started when we stopped by the beach south of Eden where the race would start the next day and Carl realised that he would have to negotiate 100 metres of soft sand before reaching the road.  The solution was two garbage bags, one on each foot over his shoes for the brief sand run the next day.  Effective, but not particularly sartorially elegant.

There was more fun the night before the run when Carl smeared Friar’s Balsam over his feet prior to taping them for the run and then managed to pick up every bit of grit and dust on the floor of our cabin with those parts of his feet not covered by tape.

After the pre-race briefing and dinner we only managed only a few hours sleep before the 3:45am alarm and our short drive to the beach for the 5:30am start, backlit by a beautiful sunrise over Twofold Bay.  Carl’s shoe coverings were a big hit and served the useful purpose of preventing him going off with the leaders and thus starting conservatively.  When we next saw the runners, after about 15km, Carl had moved through to 7th place in the field of 27 after being last onto the road.  He looked good and confident, although so did everybody else.

Climbing away from the coast.

By the marathon mark, passed in 4:02, Carl had moved into 2nd place, a steady 12 minutes behind Jo in the lead. Carl thought that Jo was the clear race favourite and was happy to be so close.  We were stopping every four kilometres to resupply Carl on the run and enjoying the breezy sunny day in the quiet rural valley.

The first major climb of the event occurred at about 55km when the road ascended 600 metres over a distance of 7km.  With the adrenalin pumping, and Jo only 7 minutes ahead after a toilet stop, Carl tried to run the whole climb and came unstuck with a kilometre to go and had to walk.  Incredibly, Jo powered the whole way up and then proceeded to run away from the field for the remainder of the race, finishing 5 hours and 26 minutes ahead of the next runner.

Crossing the high plains.

Carl then settled into an even pace across the rolling high plains along dusty back roads, gradually increasing his lead over those behind him whilst losing ground to Jo.  Despite some nausea, which disappeared when he stopped taking the Succeed tablets recommended by Darrel (thanks, Darrel!) everything seemed to be going swimmingly and, after 12 hours, Carl seemed to be destined for a clear second place.

Steve following Carl on the bike.

Then we reached the end of the gravel road and almost immediately Carl began to have trouble on the camber with his infamous toes.  The pace slowed and the stops became more frequent.  “Imelda” had brought along a large crate overflowing with shoes and Steve and I now seemed doomed to try every pair on Carl in an effort to relieve foot pain.  One pair lasted only 10 metres before Carl returned to the car to change them and others wouldn’t have lasted much longer if we hadn’t adopted a selective deafness approach to change requests.
We had a bike rack on the back of my Nissan which was articulated so that, with some effort, it could be swung out to enable the rear doors to be opened without unloading the bikes.  The fridge, shoes and drinks (Carl had brought enough sports drink and bottled water to supply every competitor in the race……and their support crews) all had to be accessed via the rear doors.  We soon learned that the act of closing the door and replacing the bike rack was a signal to Carl to ask for something that required everything to be opened again.  You might ask why we didn’t make this stuff accessible via the side doors?  The answer was Carl had also brought two huge crates of food, including a round watermelon the size and weight of a bowling ball, most of which we returned to his home after the race, unused and unopened.  Carl pretty much lived on energy/breakfast drinks the whole way.

Carl still looking good.

Despite the severe pain from his toes and great fatigue, Carl soldiered on, running almost all of the time, but his confidence was taking a hit.  As night fell we got Carl’s night gear ready to wear.  Steve was very impressed with Carl’s two headlamps, both in their original unopened packaging and needing to be assembled, with price labels of, respectively, $5 and $15 (no expense spared!).  We were both impressed that it took three attempts to get the “right” reflective vest (pinning his race number on at each attempt).  We suspect there are a few workers at the place Carl works trying to find their safety gear!

Since midday, either Steve or I had accompanied Carl on a mountain bike, carrying drinks and snacks and offering words of encouragement……or dropping back when we had enough conversation.  As the night wore on this became more necessary as Carl’s mood became more pessimistic and he became more tired.  I had to keep finding things to talk about and occasionally shouting at him to get back onto the road.  Once he came to an abrupt stop, telling me that he had seen a couch on the road in front of him!

The sun sets on the high plains.

Around midnight, at the base of the major climb over the Beloka Range we set up a comfy bed for Carl beside the road and insisted he have a 15 minute sleep.  He claims he didn’t actually fall asleep, but seemed dead to us, and his mood was definitely better as he set off up the hill.  We were pretty sure we were being caught from behind by this time, but still hadn’t seen any closing runners' lights.  We crossed the Beloka Range in the small hours beneath brilliant starry skies and Carl picked up some momentum as we descended towards Jindabyne.  Paul, the Race Director, passed us in his vehicle and told us Phil was about 3km behind us with another two runners in the next 5km after that.

Steve following Carl on the last stretch to the summit
of Kosciusko.

Carl just kept on running all of the “downs” and “flats” and most of the “ups”, and I felt we were holding our own, although Phil’s support vehicle kept on catching up to us and then stopping to wait for him.  We skirted a slumbering Jindabyne just before dawn and set out on the steady climb to Kosciusko, about 50km away.

Carl’s pace was slowing again, he was feeling nauseous, and hugely fatigued.  We tried to keep him going in the hope that the rising sun would revive his spirits.  A low point was reached about 8am when the toe pain and fatigue became too much for him and he stopped to change his shoes.  He became disoriented and distraught and could not stand up without losing his balance.  At this precise moment, Phil caught and passed us.  Even though he must also have been exhausted, he could see Carl was in a bad way and enquired whether he or his crew could do anything to help.  We politely declined and encouraged Carl to begin walking again, with us walking either side for a short way in order to catch him if he fell.  It was heart-wrenching to see his pain and fatigue, but we knew how much he had invested to get this far and how much he would regret it if he didn’t continue.

Carl at the summit of Kosciusko.

He managed to stay upright and, after a few hundred metres, regained his focus.  In another couple of kilometres, we even managed to encourage him to run some of the “flats” and “downs”.  At this stage, I think Carl had accepted he wasn’t going to catch Phil and his focus switched to holding onto his third place.  We were sure that there were a number of runners within 10km behind, all moving faster than Carl.

He showed great spirit and, as we climbed above the tree line in the Alps on a beautiful clear day, we even got an occasional glimpse of Phil far ahead, and felt we were holding him to a 2km lead.  But, we also got sore necks from looking round to see if we were being caught from behind.  We soon heard that the first woman, Pam, was gaining on us, although we could not pick her out on the road.

Descending Kosciusko.

We were still at Charlotte Pass when Pam’s crew arrived, confirming that they were close behind, but Carl could smell the end now (he “only” had to run the 8.2km to the summit of Kosciusko and then return to Charlotte Pass to finish).  He looked stronger than for some time, and set off along the rough trail with Steve and I following on mountain bikes.  After a couple of kilometres we met a runner (not in the race) coming the other way who said that Phil was only a kilometre in front.  Carl’s competitive juices began pumping and he ran up the steep trail virtually non-stop to the hut 2km from the summit where we had to leave the mountain bikes.  We persuaded him to pop a couple of Nurofen to help deal with the toe pain on the forthcoming descent, and he set off running up the last bit of the trail to the summit with Steve and I, in our biking gear, in hot pursuit on foot with camera and drinks.

The end.

We still hadn’t seen Phil or his crew and wondered whether we had somehow missed them.  Then, just as we came into view of the summit cairn, there they were coming the other way.  Phil was still running, but had some problems and didn’t seem up to defending his second place.  A kilometre later, just after crossing a small snowfield on the trail, Carl overtook him and raced away towards the finish, opening up a gap of 17 minutes, to finish in 31 hours and 27 minutes.  On that last section, he seemed to be running as well as he had the whole race.

Second place was a just reward for Carl’s Herculean effort.  Steve and I felt privileged to witness the guts and determination he showed in dragging himself back from the depths of despair after such a good start, to achieve such a great result.

Slow progress

The Bouddi Coastal Track approaching Killcare.

I wasn't expecting the long run today to be easy, and it didn't disappoint.  Despite taking it very slowly from the start, and walking most of the step and steep sections I encountered, the Bouddi Coastal Track gradually wore me down as I suspected it would.  It's never a fast course because those bits that aren't technical are often sandy, but today would be the slowest I have ever travelled.  I kept remembering leading a group along here nearly ten years ago and not walking any of it.  Those were the days.

Looking towards Broken Bay and Lion Island.

Going slow, however, was also the plan to avoid putting any excessive strain on my heart, so I kept reminding myself that I was being sensible, not weak.  Another trick to keeping it slow was to take lots of photographs along the way.  Although it was overcast and humid, with only occasional sunny spells, the visibility was reasonable and it's truly a beautiful place to run with lots of overlooks and some magic trail sections.

Trail above Pretty Beach.

Around 12km, I tripped and fell twice in quick succession, perhaps an indication of my increasing fatigue.  The first fall took a small chunk out of the heel of my right hand which started to bleed.  Being on Warfarin, I'm hypersensitive to the risks of excessive bleeding or bruising from falls, and had toyed with the idea of carrying some first aid gear for this run, but decided against.  Fortunately, it didn't bleed too much, but unfortunately, the second time I fell, the impact was on exactly the same part of the hand.  It hurt, and filled the gash with fresh grit, but didn't bleed any more.  "Toughen up, princess!"

Looking down on Hardy's Bay.

I had drunk some water at a campground around 10km and stopped in at a small store for some Powerade at about 17km, which tasted good but was so cold it gave me a brain freeze.  I was tired and very sweaty, but plodded on, making myself run everything that wasn't steeply uphill.  At 23km, I had another drink of water from a tap at the Maitland Bay Carpark, and then just jogged most of the next 6km before walking the last 2km home.

It's disappointing to feel so unfit, and I'm still coming to terms with the possibility that I may never run these distances easily again, but two months ago I was wondering whether I would ever be running again, so I know things can change.........and even if they don't, I'm better off than I was.

Benchmarks

Near the start of the Avoca Steps.

Benchmarks can be useful in gauging your running fitness, and perhaps more importantly, signalling possible problems.

These days, I tend to judge fitness by the time taken to run a regular course, and how I felt doing it.  In earlier days, I often used a time trial on the track, or something like the average times achieved running multiple 400m repetitions in a track session, as guides.  They're not foolproof methods, and subject to the vagaries of small sample sizes, but if a benchmark is achieved it gives you confidence that your training is going to plan and that, in turn, gives you the confidence to go for the time or place aspired to in your target event.

More of the Avoca Steps.

I have also employed benchmarks to gauge the seriousness of an illness or injury.  One sort of reverse benchmark I used for years was that if I was too ill to run, then I was too ill to go to work.  Of course, I never wanted to miss a run, and never had any really serious ailments, so never missed a day of work.  However, I probably infected many work colleagues with colds, and occasionally, influenza over those years.

Further up the Avoca Steps.

Running a much slower time for the Terrigal Trotters 10km Time Trial at the end of December last year (56 mins instead of the 44 mins my fitness level indicated), alerted me to health problems later diagnosed as Deep Vein Thrombosis, Pulmonary Embolism and Atrial Flutter.  Now that I'm on the road to recovery from those conditions, I'm very attuned to sub-par training runs, anxiously analysing them as possible indicators of health problem recurrence.

The final section of the Avoca Steps.

Several of my local "garbage run" courses, have very steep climbs that I almost always run up, regardless of fatigue.  In fact, the only times I have failed to run up them is when I have been ill.  These are my current benchmarks.  One of them is the "Avoca Steps", which is actually a series of flights of steps and footpath climbing about 80m over 500m.  It's always a test to run up them, no matter what the speed, but I almost always do.  This morning, however, as I approached the base of the Steps, 7km into my morning 10km run, I just couldn't face the thought of running all the way to the top.  Ultimately, these things usually come down to mind over matter, and there have been many times on this hill, and others, where I have just refused to stop running and taken it a step at a time all the way to the top.  I have prided myself on my ability to do this, and attribute my relative strength running hills to my refusal to shirk them in training.  However, my recent health travails are fresh in my mind and the worst effects were brought on by running, and sometimes just walking, up hills to the point of serious breathlessness.

This morning, my rational self won and I walked up the Avoca Steps, but it hurt my pride and worried me some.  I can't put my finger on a single problem, but can think of multiple reasons, none of them individually important enough to explain my excessive fatigue.  For the moment I'm assuming that it is the combination of these factors - lack of fitness base, a total of 45km solid running on the weekend, and a head cold that is now beginning to affect my chest - that explains my troubles this morning.  However, if the fatigue persists through to the weekend, I'll be considering whether another visit to the doctor is required.

Heavy weekend

The runners gather at Somersby for the start
of the trail run.

The weekend proved to be a test of stamina, and not just running stamina.  It started with the Terrigal Trotters' run "Tegart's Revenge", a 14.5km course, early on Saturday morning.  I expected it to be my hardest run for some time, and it didn't disappoint.  It's not that I went out quickly, but it is one of those courses that has long stretches where you build momentum and then maintain it - good for tempo running - and I regretted not being fit enough or healthy enough to mix it near the front of the pack where I knew it would be fast and competitive.  Still with an underlying anxiety that my heart problem will return, I stuck to my pre-run plan of never stressing myself to the point where I was gasping for breath, but the long sections of concrete path and road were punishing for my unfit legs and I was very tired by the end.  It was a pleasant surprise to find I had averaged 5mins/km pace for the distance which also included some significant hills.

On the early part of the trail run.

The afternoon and evening were then spent at an outdoor rock concert in the Hunter Valley where many of the audience and performers were my vintage, though few looked capable of running 14.5km.  By my standard it was a very late night, and I didn't get to bed until after midnight.

The 4:45am alarm on Sunday morning was unwelcome, but unavoidable.  I was the organiser of trail run with my fellow Trotters and had to meet the bus at Staples Lookout, the finish point, soon after 6:00am for the drive to the start.  At Somersby we began for the 29km run back to Staples along The Great North Walk trail.  This section is a particularly nice run, but the terrain gets progressively harder, and the warm and humid weather had us all soon sweating.  I knew my legs would be tired from yesterday's hard run and that the lack of sleep would take its toll, so I started out very gently, close to last of the 30 runners.

Looking west from Mt Scopus on the trail run.

I settled into a gentle rhythm, my stiff and tired legs gradually loosened up, and I really began to enjoy the running.  I did have a couple of stumbles and two falls, neither of which did any apparent damage, perhaps because I was carrying my feet too low on the technical trail.  I reached the drink stop at 16km in good shape, but aware that the remaining trail was very challenging.  Even though I walked up the steep rocky stepped climbs, they took their toll in the heat and I knew I should have carried more fluids.  My tired legs began finding the descents just as taxing as the climbs, and with about 5km to go I began to feel a little light-headed, struggling to keep my balance at times.  Despite my disorientation, I was aware that my heartbeat was still regular and strong, so I wasn't too concerned.  I pretty much walked the last 3km, which was almost entirely uphill, but that was OK.  My time was slow, but it was a great feeling just to have finished.  I recovered quickly, very happy to think that trail runs of this length were now back on my agenda, even if slower than I would like.

After getting home in the early afternoon, I began sneezing a lot and my sinuses became congested.  It proved to be the start of a heavy head cold which was worse today, so I didn't bother going for my planned walk.  I usually wouldn't let a head cold stop me exercising, but after the solid weekend, I figured it would do more good than harm to have the day off.

Cadging a lift

Erina Valley this morning.

Running the same courses each week, month in month out, can get boring.  Of course, it's always possible to drive to another location to run, but that can be time-consuming.  I have written before about alleviating the boredom by doing some exploring (see posts titled "Getting out the door" and "Small explorations").

Climbing Kincumba Mt this morning.

Another method I have employed is to cadge a lift from a family member who is driving somewhere, get dropped off and then run home.  The distance can be varied according to taste, and of course, you don't have to take the most direct route home.  I've also done it when dropping the car off for a service, or similar, and there are other ways to work in a run somewhere different minimising the time cost.

Starting the technical descent from
Kincumba Mt this morning.

This morning, I asked Sharon to give me a lift to the school where she teaches near Erina so I could run home through Erina Valley and over Kincumba Mountain.  These are areas I know quite well, but I don't get to run through them that frequently.

It was a beautiful morning, yet again, and a number of times I reminded myself how lucky I was to have such great places to run, largely to myself, and to just be running again.  There were a few long climbs, and some technical descents, but the 14km passed easily, if slowly.  I'm starting to feel like a runner again.

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.

Having faith

Gardiner's Creek Trail

The plan for this morning's run was an easy 15km just to work up a bit of a sweat and let my body know I am still running seriously.  I chose a course that included a good chunk of the Gardiners and Scotchmans Creek bike paths that are a favourite running haunt of mine in Melbourne.  The excellent bike paths of Melbourne set it apart from other Australian cities, except maybe for Canberra, and the network is now vast, providing endless safe and scenic running options.

As it turned out, a warm and blustery pollen-laden wind made the run quite hard, exacerbated by a right knee that was more sore than it should have been.  By the half-way mark of what turned out to be a 16.5km run, I wasn't feeling very feisty and was glad I didn't have another 34km to go.  When you're tapering you expect to start feeling good, and when you don't it can be troubling.

Gardiner's Creek Trail

I kept telling myself that I must have faith in my fitness and not worry too much about how I feel on any particular day.  I was running strongly on Sunday and there's no reason why I would have lost any form since then.  Sometimes, after a long day's travel, as I had yesterday, you can be a bit stale and lack rhythm.  The pollen and warmth could also be a factor.  I know that on race day, Sunday, I will front up, full of adrenalin and ready to go.  Today's run will be forgotten.

I also know that having faith in your preparation is key during a race.  Most of my personal best times have come in races when I was absolutely exhausted at the half-way mark and running very fast by previous standards.  In those races, I somehow maintained the pace through the second half, though it was very hard work.  Success depended on staying mentally engaged and having faith that my preparation would see me through.  Of course, the preparation is the most important factor, but success also depends on having the confidence to deploy and fully utilise that preparation.

Mid-taper

Penrose State Forest

Most of today was spent driving from Copa to Melbourne, a distance of about 1000km.  I left at about 5am so as to beat the peak hour traffic in the Sydney suburbs, and stopped at 7:30am at Penrose State Forest in the NSW Southern Highlands to go for an easy 5km run.  I have often driven past the Forest on the highway and thought it might be a good place for a run, so today was the day.

It was very enjoyable, though short, running along some logging roads through the pine plantation in the cool and sunny early morning.  I felt good and could have gone further, so was happy that I’m on track with my taper.  I’m following half of my usual taper recommendation.  Instead of 75% of distance and intensity two weeks out from the marathon and 50% of distance and intensity one week out, I’m just doing the second part.

Penrose State Forest

Not only did this morning’s run feel comfortable, but my right Achilles and knee injuries are only minimally painful, though I’m still nursing both.  One benefit of this taper week is that both injuries have a chance to mend a little.

For my tapers, I still like to maintain the same routine and will run each day from here up until the marathon on Sunday, just less.  Keeping everything the same as usual helps keep the body’s functions normal, including eating patterns, and I think that helps mentally.
I arrived in Melbourne in the late afternoon and plan on an easy 15km run tomorrow morning, my last run of any consequence for the week.  After that, just an easy 5km per day up until the race.

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.

Sleep

Late night dinner in the western Queensland town of
Cloncurry while trying to break the round Australia
record in 2007

The problem with Thursdays is, that after getting up early to supervise the 6:00am Terrigal Trotters track session at The Haven, I eat late and get to bed late after supervising the 6:00pm track session at Adcock Park in Gosford.  (I'm not complaining about the track sessions.  I find them rewarding and it's a way for me to pay back with a bit of volunteering after a working career during which my volunteering was minimal.)

As I get older, it seems I like my sleep more.  If golf is scheduled for early Friday morning, as it often is, I get very tired and start to dread the early starts that follow on Saturday and Sunday.

Crossing the Atherton Tableland in the Northern Territory
during the 2008 attempt to break the round Australia record

I'm sure that all serious runners think about the amount of sleep they get and regret that they don't get more.  Earlier in my running career, I envied the full-time athletes who had nothing to do all day but train and sleep and figured this could be a key factor in their success.  I also used to get stressed if I could not get a good night's sleep before a big race.

However, as I have aged, my views on sleep have become more relaxed.  I now don't worry if I get insufficient sleep the night before a big race.  Instead, I try and get a few good nights' sleep in the week before and just take what I can get the night before.  Often you are sleeping in a strange place or maybe sharing accommodation and subject to the night routine of others.  Despite a lack of sleep, I have found the adrenalin, excitement and atmosphere of race day is enough to get you up mentally for the race.  The last thing you need to be worrying about is a sleepless night.  Once the race starts, you tend to forget all about it.

Taking a break in the Northern Territory during the 2009
attempt to break the round Australia record

The other thing I have learned is that I can survive on a lot less sleep than I would like.  During my working career, I averaged a little over six hours per night, but functioned fine so long as I was doing something.  If I sat still in a presentation or lecture, or on a plane, I was prone to go to sleep, but if I kept working I was fine.  The real sleep test for me came during my three failed attempts to break the record for riding a bike solo and unsupported around Australia.  I soon learned that success was as much a function of being able to operate on little sleep as it was on cycling prowess.  Almost all nights were limited to four to five hours sleep, with 1:00am starts, 300 kilometre days, and occasional brief cat-naps during the day if I became too tired to continue.  I was amazed at what my body could do if tested, though if you consider the privations of, say, soldiers in the trenches during the First World War, my efforts were modest.

The lesson for me about sleep is that you should get as much as you can, but not sweat it if you run short.  So long as you are motivated, you can keep going on minimal sleep.

Not wanting to leave today's run until after the morning golf game, I got myself up at 4:30am and squeezed in a slow 5km around Copa in the early morning half light.  My right Achilles was quite painful and my pace was slow, but I do feel I'm moving more freely.  It's the monthly Terrigal Trotters 10km Time Trial tomorrow, and I would like to run a reasonable time, but am trying to avoid any expectations.  I feel that my overall fitness is at about 75% of where I would like to be, and this is unlikely to translate into a good 10km time.

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.

Waiting for momentum

Part of the Terrigal Trotters track group going through
their early morning paces at Terrigal Haven

This is my 100th post in this blog, and I'm sure all readers are tired of hearing about my injuries and illnesses day after day.  Yet, this is the life of a runner, and I wanted this blog to be a true record of how I was feeling about my running and my journey towards a goal.  When I started, I optimistically thought it would be a tale of ever-increasing fitness, hopefully taken to a new level, on the way to a sub-3:00 hour Melbourne Marathon on 13 October of this year.  It has actually turned out to be a record of the setbacks, disappointments and frustrations that have been the more common theme of my running career, and many running careers.

With only five weeks to Melbourne, the best I can hope for is to run faster than I did at the Macleay River Marathon back in June (3:24), but I'm trying not to get too hung up on what is an acceptable time.  Instead, I will treat it as a long training run, and to that end, have entered some Australian Masters Games events (5,000m track and 8km cross-country) in Geelong during the week before.  It's a way of telling myself that what I run in the marathon is not that important.

To get serious about running a good marathon I need a few months where I have training and psychological momentum.  This isn't something that can be turned on with a switch.  My strategy will be to keep plugging away at around 100km per week, injuries permitting, and wait for a feeling of well-being to return.  With that, will come motivation and serious planning for the next marathon, probably in Hobart in January.

It was yet another beautiful morning on the NSW Central Coast, and I enjoyed watching the track group run their 300m repetitions on the grass at The Haven before setting out on my own regular 16.5km run.  My right Achilles was quite stiff and sore after last night's run.  It feels like it has set in concrete and doesn't have the flexibility to let me run properly.  In my early days, I would have forced it to loosen up, ignoring the pain and consequences, but these days, I try and modify my gait to avoid undue pressure and lessen the pain.  This means a shortened stride length and this morning's early kilometres, up the steep hills of the Scenic Highway, were run at little more than a shuffle.  I must have looked pathetic.....and old.  At the top of the hill, a girl joined my route from a side street just in front of me.  She seemed to be running very slowly, but I wasn't catching her.  This didn't help my mood.

As the Achilles gradually became more loose, my speed and form improved and I slowly passed the girl.  Although very tired from last night's running, my legs did feel a little stronger as I went further, and I felt lighter on my feet, almost enjoying the flats and downhills.  This lightness evaporated in the last few kilometres and I was exhausted when I finished.  Pathetic, really, for just a slow 16.5km run.  However, a week ago at the same time I could only manage a 6km run so I guess that's progress (from a low base).

Continuing frustration

This nasty little hill in each Six at Six lap is tougher
than it looks

I headed into Gosford in the late afternoon for an easy 10km warm-up before the weekly Six at Six race.  Maybe it's the very early and warm Spring we're having, but for whatever reason, my sinuses were blocked all day and the warm-up 10km was marked by much coughing and expectorating, despite taking a couple of puffs from my Ventolin inhaler prior to running.  I do have allergies and they seem to be compounding my current breathing difficulties when running.

The long back straight along the Gosford waterfront
in each Six at Six lap

Anyway, I felt better than before last week's Six at Six, but was careful not to go off too fast when the 6km race started.  My pace was quite consistent, around 5:15 for each 1.2km lap, but I was really gasping for air in the last two laps and coughing lots.  As usual, the small concave hill in each lap really destroyed my rhythm, and if running with oxygen debt helps, then tonight was good training.  My time was about 30 seconds slower than two weeks ago, so was a little disappointing.  It just seems hard to believe that I can get fit enough to run minutes faster, yet that's what I must do.

It's also frustrating that I cannot keep up with friends over 6km, who I would normally be competitive with over 10km.  Of course, they may be running well, but most of my recent comebacks saw me more competitive more quickly.  On the positive side, my right Achilles and arch injuries weren't too bad tonight, although tomorrow morning's run will be the true test.