Free food

Garden of the Gods, Colorado Springs.

In a recent post, Las Vegas Marathon, I wrote about how my then wife, Barb, and I unexpectedly won quite a large amount of money in that 1986 race.  Three months earlier, in the space of a week, we had smaller, but no less welcome, successes in two fun runs.

Although still September, a cold front moved through on a bleak Saturday as we drove into Colorado Springs with the intention of running in the El Paso Chiropractic Association 5 Miles race the next morning.  We camped at nearby at Manitou Springs and went for an evening run in light snow through the nearby awe-inspiring Garden of the Gods park.  A cold night followed, with the temperature dropping to 22°F, and we woke to a snowy white world.  Our first challenge was the drive to the start at Palmer Park on the empty ice-covered roads.  We slid in slow motion all the way to the bottom of one hill, lucky to avoid hitting anything along the way.

Palmer Park, Colorado Springs.

The adverse weather impacted the race turnout and there were only about 40 entrants in bitterly cold weather.  I was the only person running in shorts, with everyone else more appropriately dressed for the weather, when we set off following a lead car.  On a largely snow-covered hilly road course with icy corners and descents, I won easily (24:33, short course) after attacking the last slippery descent, and surviving, while my nearest rivals took a more circumspect approach.  Barb was first in the women's division, and we each won a dinner for two at a local restaurant.  We had been planning to drive to Denver straight after the race, but negotiated to have one of the dinners that night, handed the other prize back, and hung around until evening to enjoy our prize.  Being on a very tight travelling budget, this was the first time we had eaten at a restaurant in six months on the road, and the quality four-course meal was much appreciated.

Wildcat Hills, Nebraska.

The following Saturday, while visiting Scottsbluff, Nebraska, we found out about the Wildcat Hills 5 Mile Race to be held in the nearby Wildcat Hills the following morning.  We entered the race at a local sports shop, and that night slept in our campervan parked near the start point for the race.  We were woken the next morning by the sound of car doors slamming as competitors arrived.  The field was again small, and I won overall (26:22) after a hard-fought race with a guy who had driven 200 miles from Denver for the event, while Barb was just pipped by his girlfriend in the women's division.  We were a little disappointed to find the prizes were medals, but then my name was drawn in the competitor raffle, and I won a Pizza Hut voucher for their store back in Scottsbluff.  We drove back into town, ordered our pizzas, and then headed west on the highway across the prairie eating our pizzas and dribbling melted cheese from broad smiles.

Yesterday's long run aggravated my chronic right knee and Achilles tendon injuries and I limited my exercise this morning to a 5km walk around Copa.

Grand Canyon

Sharon and I ran to the floor of the Grand Canyon
and back in 2012.  Starting down on Bright Angel Trail.

Although still not feeling great, my 11km run this morning went better than yesterday's and I'm feeling a little more positive about life.  I found it harder than the same run last Thursday, but sense improvement and think I'll be recovered enough to run with Terrigal Trotters's this coming Saturday morning and maybe even get in a long gentle trail run on Sunday or Monday.

In fitter days (1986), I wrote the article below for my running club newsletter
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THE GRAND CANYON - AS TOUGH AS IT LOOKS!   Letter from Dave Byrnes

The Colorado River at the base of the Grand Canyon.

No runner can stand on the rim of the awesome, mile deep, Grand Canyon in Arizona without wondering if they could run down to the Colorado River and back again.  Prior to arrival, I hadn’t planned such a journey but a look down in the Canyon and a quick check of a map kindled my interest and I resolved to make the attempt before I left.  I'm sure many runners had preceded me, and I know there is an annual 'ultra' which runs from the South Rim to the North Rim and return (a forty mile, eight hour plus epic), yet there was still an immense challenge to contemplate. 

Encountering a mule train on the ascent up
the South Kaibab Trail.

The course I planned to follow involved a four mile, gradually uphill, run along the South Rim road from our campsite to the South Kaibab trailhead at 7300 ft; a steep descent along the trail (4900 ft in a little over six miles) to the Colorado River; a couple of miles downstream by the river on the other bank; an ascent of 4600 ft in just under eight miles along the Bright Angel trail; and finally, one and a half miles back to camp (also uphill).  The total distance was to be a little over twenty-one miles and despite my failure to perform well in marathons since leaving Australia, I was confident I would make it.  The real challenge of the run was to be an ascent up Bright Angel without stopping and I mulled over my chances as I set out before sunrise on a clear, cold Sunday morning.  Almost immediately, I regretted the intense physical activity of the previous three days that had seen Barb and I hiking, cycling and running around various parts of the National Park.  Fortunately, we had become accustomed to training at altitudes up to 10,000 ft during our travels, but resting up for long runs had not been one of our priorities.

Further up the South Kaibab Trail ascent.

I decided to throttle back as I ran along the Rim and focussed instead on the magnificent sunrise that was gradually illuminating the brilliant orange/pink cliffs of the Canyon.  Out of the sun, the temperature was still well below freezing and I was glad of my gloves and Goretex top.  After half an hour, I reached the trail head and paused briefly to wonder at the sanity of the venture - at least running downhill would be easy.  From the Rim, you could not even see the Colorado River, only the shadow of the smaller canyon on whose floor it flowed.  The Kaibab Trail zig-zagged its way down an almost sheer drop and I set off gingerly on the ice-¬covered surface; being particularly careful on the tight corners.  Even after the ice disappeared at lower altitudes, the going was slow because of the steepness and frequent turns.  The surface was a curious mixture of rocks and green dust, the latter composed of dust created by the mule trains coloured by their manure.  Lovely.

The top at last.  The South Kaibab Trailhead.

Mule trains are common on the trails and National Park rules require all pedestrians to stop completely if they meet with one.  Apparently, mules are easily spooked and may dash over a precipice carrying an unfortunate tourist.  I met a train on the descent just before reaching the river.  After crossing the Colorado on a suspension bridge, I climbed down to a sandy beach to ceremonially dip my hand in the broad, green, fast-flowing river.  It was just over an hour since I had left the rim, and I had a little less than two hours to complete the ascent in order to achieve my other goal of under three hours rim-to-rim.  I crossed the river on another bridge after stopping for a quick drink near the Ranger station at Bright Angel Camp.  I was feeling good - a result of much more oxygen (a mile lower) and the relatively level river trail that crossed some sand dunes.  I began surprising bushwalkers, who had camped on the canyon floor overnight, from behind which is always a bit of fun.  The trail turned away from the river and began climbing gradually along a small canyon.  The pace was steady and I was doing it easy.  Passing the hikers was exhilarating, but I was forgetting that the ascent was concave with the steepest parts near the end.  I reached Indian Gardens, four and a half miles and 3000 ft from the rim with an hour to go and feeling a bit weaker.  Two and a half miles later, I met a mule train descending and was forced to stop for the first time on the ascent.  Damn.  Feeling distinctly tired, I set off jogging again on the steepening trail and half an hour later met another one.  This time on resuming, I was exhausted.  I couldn’t believe how sapped I felt as I staggered on for another half mile before I had to stop and walk.  The trail was now zig-zagging up almost sheer faces and I even had trouble getting forward momentum to walk.  I looked anxiously at my watch and resolved to walk 50, jog 200 to the top.  It soon changed to walk 50, jog 50, but I made it to the rim, groggy, but with ten minuted to spare.

Chorleywood long run

Approaching Amersham.

In my "Chorleywood" post of 14 February 2014, I described why it was the best place I have lived as a runner, with a wide variety of trails, terrain and interesting sights.  In that post I outlined one of my favourite "garbage run" courses in Chorleywood, but I also had a favourite long run that matches any I have been able to run from home during my running life.

Crossing Hervines Park in Amersham.

Many London commuters live in the villages and towns of the surrounding Chiltern Hills, but amazingly, I could still find places to run where I was largely on my own and surrounded by countryside.  The 30km course was a loop that primarily followed public footpaths, bridleways and country lanes through dark woods, across fields and through some quaint villages.  The scenery varied continually along the route with another dimension added by the dramatic seasonal changes.

Looking towards Hill Farm, near Chesham.

Descending through a cornfield towards Amersham in oppressive early summer heat, slogging through deep mud in the cold drizzle of a dark winter's day near Chalfont St Giles, and passing daffodils on bright sunny spring days in the Chess River valley, are among treasured memories of this course.  However, maybe it's the dismal winters and colours of autumn that I miss most as a resident of Australia.

I look forward to enjoying some more runs on my Chorleywood 20 Miler some time in the future.

The Chess valley.

Still suffering from a bad head cold and the weekend's running, I chose to jog just 5km around Copa today.  It was very slow and my chronic right knee injury was painful, but I expected the latter after the stresses of the technical trail on Sunday.  Last year, I would have forced myself to run at least 10km today, and I feel a little guilty for doing less, but I know I have to give myself permission to "under-train" as I recover from the heart problem.

Maitland Bay

Strom's Track this morning.

After an easy day yesterday (recovery days are as important as quality days), I decided to treat myself on a beautiful sunny and warm morning with a 17km trail run over to Maitland Bay in Bouddi National Park, just about my favourite place to run locally.

Maitland Bay this morning.

I wasn't sure how I would go with the distance and hills involved, but know that if I can manage to get some longer runs in, taking care not to stress my heart, I will gradually improve my fitness.  It's not that I want to start racing again, but I feel out-of-shape, especially in the legs, and will enjoy my running more if a little fitter.

As I skirted Cockrone Lagoon, I realised it was a lot warmer than I had anticipated, but I wasn't planning to push it.  The legs were heavy and it was a long slow, and at times steep, ascent to the McMasters Fire Trail, and then the same again up to the Scenic Highway, the highest point of the run.  I kept running, making sure I didn't get to the point of breathing too heavily, and made it without stopping.  This was a confidence booster, knowing that hills I literally couldn't have walked up six weeks ago without seriously risking my health could now be run up.

Maitland Bay this morning.

From there I ran the 2km length of Strom's Track, one of the most beautiful sections of trail on the coast for running or mountain-biking.  One of my friends, Greg, told me that in his younger days, he and a few friends would run 2km repeats along this section of track for training.  It would have been fun.

Maitland Bay this morning.

At the other end of the track, I descended the steep many-stepped trail to Maitland Bay, an absolute gem of a golden arc-shaped beach bordered by thick green forest and lapped by crystal clear aquamarine water.  I hoped to have the place to myself, but a couple reached the beach the same time as me and a white yacht rode at anchor at the eastern end.

Bouddi Coastal Track this morning.

After jogging the length of the beach, I walked up the steep exit path and then used a mix of walking and running, depending on the track steepness, along the Bouddi Coastal Track.  By this time, my lack of fitness and the heat was beginning to taking more of a toll than expected and my running pace was even slower.  I told myself that there was no reason why I shouldn't walk more - I wasn't training for any races and there was no time-pressure to get fit - so that's what I did for some of the remaining hills.  It is mentally hard for me not to force myself to run up hills, even when exhausted, but I know I have to come to terms with it.

After the long descent to McMasters Beach, and feeling very tired, I decided to walk the remaining 2km home along the beach.  I was hot and debated whether to jump in for a swim in the very inviting surf, but decided it was too much hassle without a towel and still some distance to walk.

I will have another easy day tomorrow and then try another longer run on Wednesday if I feel OK.

Forest Park

Forest Park, St Louis.

Forest Park in St Louis is another location that lives large in my running memory.  Between 1992 and 1997, while living and working in St Louis, I frequently visited the park for races organised by the St Louis Track Club, of which I was a member, and to train on its perimeter track on my own, or with friends.

I wouldn't describe it as the most scenic park I have run through, but it had good paths, greenery and a nice 9km lap.  But, despite its name, little forest.  The terrain wasn't so tough, but the weather could be.  St Louis is renowned for its hot and humid summers and freezing winters, and I can remember running and racing in those extremes as well as in some beautiful spring and autumn weather.

Forest Park, St Louis.

The park has history as well, being the site of the 1904 World's Fair and some of the 1904 Olympics events.  It also hosts several museums, an outdoor theater and the St Louis Zoo.  As a teen in Australia, I could remember watching Marlin Perkins' "Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom" television series produced when he was director of the St Louis Zoo.  Who'da thought, thirty years later, I would frequently be running past his zoo on the other side of the world!

Forest Park in winter.

It was just a 15 minute drive from my home or office into Forest Park along the freeway and I could easily find a parking spot at the park's south-west corner.  Running clockwise, the perimeter lap started with a gentle downhill 1.5km followed by a long flat stretch along the park's northern edge.  If you were feeling good, you could really wind up on this section and then try and maintain your momentum as the path began gently climbing towards the south-east corner, the 6km mark.  From there the path paralleled the highway to the south of the park, passing the Zoo and Science Museum along the way.  This section always seemed like it should be flat, but actually you were climbing most of the way and it was often tough to maintain the pace established early in the run.

Even now, warm humid evenings evoke fond memories of running around Forest Park.

I didn't go for a run today, but walked about 5km while playing golf.  I'm really looking forward to tomorrow's Terrigal Trotters Matcham Valley 15km run, one of my favourites.

Changing expectations

Bouddi National Park coastline.

I can already sense my mindset changing, and much more quickly than expected.

When you can't run, you tell yourself you will be satisfied with just being able to jog 5km a day.  When you get to jogging 5km a day, you tell yourself you will be satisfied if you can just run 10km per day, with the occasional long run.  And so it goes.  Before long, you will just be satisfied if you can get back to the fitness level you enjoyed before sustaining the injury.

Lovely single-track in Bouddi
National Park.

This has always the pattern for me when dealing with a serious running injury, but somehow I thought the life-threatening health scare at Christmas might lead to an attitude change.  In some ways it's frightening, and in other ways comforting, to find that, post-injury, little has changed.  Scary, because it worries me that I'm not paying sufficient heed to the risks of reversion to heart arrhythmia and the impact that may have on my future quality of life.  Comforting, because it's good to know that my problems haven't changed me that much.

The fire-trail down to
Little Beach.

I made it around the 14km Trotters run on Saturday (see post titled Looking up) with no apparent ill-effects.  After two subsequent easier running days, I asked myself this morning why shouldn't I run a bit further today, and maybe hit one of my favourite local trails.  Part of my reasoning related to the psychological boost I would get from returning to my usual running haunts, and part of the reasoning was that the further I ran in training, the sooner I would regain fitness and the easier running would become.

The more I run, the less focussed I am on my heartbeat and breathing.  I'm finding that a conscious decision to run within myself is sufficient to keep my breathing controlled and my heartbeat within comfortable limits.  I'm wearing a heart monitor now for my runs and it confirms that my heart rate is averaging around 150bpm during runs, reaching a maximum of around 160bpm.  It seems to me that, though getting my heart rate higher would accelerate my return to fitness, I will still benefit from longer easier runs, healthwise and weightwise.

Little Beach this morning.

I ran about 13km today along trails to the deserted Little Beach on a warm and sunny morning.  I walked up the steepest hill, and stopped a couple of times for views and photos, but still worked up a very good sweat.  On the downside, my chronic right knee injury was quite painful at times.  It doesn't seem like the time off running, during which it was not painful at all, had done it any good.  But the pain is a price I'm happy to pay just to be running again.

Washington DC

US Capitol Building.

Washington DC offers unique running.  Since my first visit in 1985, I have visited it many times for business and pleasure, and always looked forward to my regular run around the Washington Mall.  The exact distance has varied, depending on where I was staying, but my basic Washington DC 10km loop has remained the same.

Looking past the Capitol Building along the Mall to
the Washington Monument.

I try not use the word "unique" too often, but it's appropriate in this case.  Where else in the world can a 10km run take you past the United States Capitol Building, various parts of the Smithsonian Museum, the Washington Monument, the Jefferson Memorial, the Lincoln Memorial, the Reflective Pool, and (distantly) the White House, as well as the Potomac River and many other sights, well-known memorials and institutions.

Looking the other way from the Washington Monument
along the Mall to the Capitol Building.

Before 9/11, security wasn't as tight around the US Capitol, and you could run quite close to the building.  It's a bit different today, but even then you could get into trouble.  While staying with friends for a couple of weeks in 1985, and still training twice a day, I would run hard up the hill on which the Capitol sits, sometimes in darkness.  On one of those occasions, my way was suddenly barred by two policemen who emerged from the gloom and asked me to identify myself.  Of course, I wasn't carrying any ID, but after a chat they let me continue on my way.  Subsequently, I tended to stay on the more well-lit paths closer to the road after dark.

The Jefferson Memorial and the path along the shore of
the Potomac Tidal Basin.

A good part of the 10km loop runs along the flattish and wide gravel paths on either side of the National Mall.  It's a popular place to run at either end of the day, but can get busy with tourists at other times.  When feeling good, I always enjoyed building to a good pace on the long straights and chasing down and over-taking fellow runners.

Apart from the impressive buildings and monuments, the area is characterised by expansive views and vast green lawns which, depending on the weather and time of day, can be very popular with tourists and locals alike.  I have a memory of running, one balmy summer evening, past countless games of mixed gender baseball and ultimate frisbee, played by people of all shapes, sizes and ages (mostly public servants, I would guess), running, shouting and encouraging each other.  A very happy scene.

Looking from the Lincoln Memorial over the Reflective
Pool to the Washington Monument.

I also have a memory of running the course on a chill winter morning with an icy wind blowing, remnant snow of a recent storm banked against park walls and buildings, and the few pedestrians protected by big coats and sturdy headgear.  Whatever the weather, it was always an interesting and inspiring place to run.

I plodded around 5km in Copa today, feeling a little stiff and sore after yesterday's exertions, particularly my chronically injured right knee.  For the first time, I wore a new heart monitor linked to my smart phone to collect data about the run and my associated effort for later computer upload.  It showed my average heart rate as 140bpm, with a maximum of 162bpm, and an average speed of 6 mins/km - pretty slow!

Singapore

Looking towards Marina Bay, Singapore.

Another city I visited frequently for work during my 16 expatriate years was Singapore, which I found somewhat bland compared to, say, Hong Kong, in terms of topography, atmosphere and running opportunities.  The climate was also challenging, with the city state lying just north of the equator.  I remember one occasion, after flying in at noon and having no afternoon commitments, setting out in the early afternoon for a 12km run.  There was little shelter from the blazing sun and the humidity was extreme, but I considered myself indestructible.  Jet lag may also have been a factor, but for whatever reason, after about 8km I began to feel incredibly tired and light-headed and had to sit on a shaded park bench for ten minutes before I could continue.  I then slowly walked the remaining 4km back to the hotel.

The path along the Kallang River.

As hotel locations varied, so did my morning run routes, but the usual 11-12km started somewhere in downtown Singapore in pre-dawn darkness and headed down to Marina Bay from where I followed a path by the Kallang River northwards.  It was cooler in the dark, but that's relative, and it never took long to be dripping with sweat.  There would be a few early workers and exercisers about, but generally I had the place to myself.

East Coast Park.

After crossing the River, the run passed some darkened sports stadiums before entering a residential area of towering apartment blocks where the locals, including many schoolchildren, were setting out for their day.  At the manicured and verdant East Coast Park, which extends all the way to the airport, I turned right along a bike path back towards the city.  After crossing the river again, I ran past the historic Raffles Hotel into the CBD and the end of the run.  If I was smart, I had turned the air-conditioning up to the maximum in my room before I left, because it always took a long time to stop sweating, and it wasn't worth showering until I had.

Raffles Hotel.

I never tried a really long run in Singapore, but I'm sure it would be hard work, and I don't envy any serious distance runners living permanently in the country.

My 5km run went a little bit easier this morning, so I hope this is the start of feeling better.  I'm still checking my pulse all the time.  I don't know how long it will be before I take a regular heartbeat for granted again, if ever.

Reef Hills

Reef Hills State Park.

Most of today was spent driving the 1000km from Copa to Melbourne where I will be staying for a week with family.  Because of the long drive, I wasn't committed to getting a run or walk in during the day.  However, around 3:30pm, when I was starting to feel a little tired, I pulled off the highway near Benalla in Victoria and stopped at Reef Hills State Park, where I knew there were some fire trails, and changed for a run.

It's good to be running again!

Warm sunny weather, stiffness from yesterday, and the kransky sausage roll I had less than two hours earlier for lunch, all conspired to make even a slow run hard work, but the further I went the better I felt.  Like yesterday, I was very focussed on my breathing and heart rate.  I was counting how many steps per breath (inhalation and exhalation) and the first couple of kilometres were easy with five steps per breath, decreasing to four steps as I climbed a gradual hill.  Usually, when running hard, I get three or two steps per breath, so comfortably getting more was a good sign.

Half way round, my right calf started to hurt quite a lot, but it's hard to believe that I have damaged anything given the slow pace of the run.  Tomorrow will tell the tale.  It's definitely good to be running again and generating some sweat.

Walking and pondering

The backlots of McMasters Beach on this morning's walk.

I walked about 10km this morning in misty, drizzly, and almost autumnal weather along some less-travelled roads and trails around nearby McMasters Beach.  Walking gives more time to look at your surroundings, and I've enjoyed a closer examination of the forests and properties that I often pass more cursorily on the run.  It's all relative, of course, with walking better than running, and running better than biking, if you want to absorb your environment.  All are better than driving.

The gravestone of Allan McMaster, the first European
settler in the area named after him.

Another advantage of walking, for me at least, is that it is the best time for thinking.  I'm a stroller rather than a power walker, and the gentle perambulation seems to stimulate my analytical brain cells.  As I walked this morning, experiencing no breathlessness or heart palpitations, I wondered about the chances that my heart problems were behind me.  If not, how would the return of the Atrial Flutter (AFl) be triggered?  By running too hard?  And if it was triggered, would it suddenly be as debilitating as it was before the Cardioversion, or would the onset be slower?  What were the chances of reversion, and what were the risk factors?  Wouldn't the cells through which my heart was passing the errant electrical pulses still be there, just a dormant pathway waiting to be reactivated by stress or some other trigger?

Umbrellas were optional on a drizzly morning walk.

There was lots to think about, inconclusively, and I returned home to do some more Googling.  Nothing I could find gave me more certainty, but there were clues.  One study in particular, of men a similar age to me, found that 55% had recurrent AFl within six months of their Cardioversions.  Underlying heart disease, previous episodes of AFl, and enlarged left atriums all seemed to be statistically significant factors in those who reverted.  I'm not conscious of previous AFl events, and my cardiologist found no evidence of heart disease, but he did find "mild Left Atrial dilatation".

Cockrone Lagoon on an autumnal morning.

Other studies have found enlarged left atrial size to be more common in long-term endurance athletes, than others of a similar demographic, and that this seemed to be associated with great incidence of Atrial Fibrillation (AF) and AFl.  So, it seems reasonable to assume I remain at significant risk of reversion.  The great unknown for me, though, is whether the enlarged left atrium was the key factor in the development of my AFl, or was it the Pulmonary Embolism (PE) placing undue pressure on the heart's function that was the trigger.  Although I'm probably stuck with the enlarged left atrium, the PE should be gone soon, if not already.  Does that mean there's a good chance I won't have the problem again?  Probably not, but only time will tell, although there will never be a point at which I can say there is no further risk.

Nelse-Bogong Loop

Bogong High Plains near Mount Nelse.

In December 2011, I decided to stop off for a few days on the Bogong High Plains on my way back from Melbourne to Copa after visiting relatives.  I booked a small apartment for my stay with the intention of getting in a few long runs at altitude on the High Plains as part of my preparation for the Bogong to Hotham 64km the following month.  I was coming back from injury and felt some long runs would build my stamina and confidence.

For the biggest long run, I mapped out a 50+ kilometre loop that incorporated part of the course of the upcoming race and set out at 7:00am on a cool sunny morning from near the Rocky Valley Storage Dam.  The half-way point was to be the summit of Mount Bogong (1986m), and although the last half of the course was along familiar trail, the first half of the loop wasn't, and I was excited about running some new trail.  I headed north towards the barren Mount Nelse for the first 8km which climbed gradually away from the Dam on easy running fire-trail.

Mount Bogong from Grey Hills.

I expected the run would take me seven to eight hours and I was wearing a Camelbak containing a couple of Snickers Bars, a map, my phone, a rain-jacket and a cup for getting water out of streams to drink.  Before leaving my apartment I had a slice of toast and jam and figured that the Snickers Bars would be sufficient nutrition for the time I would be out.

At Warby Corner, near Mount Nelse, I turned left onto the Spion Kopje track which followed a high spur westwards with expansive views north and south of fog-shrouded valleys in very still conditions.  I was fresh, the running was easy, and not a soul was in sight.  I felt privileged to have the place to myself, and lucky to be fit enough to do the run.

Quartz Ridge from Mount Bogong.

Things started to change after 5km when I turned north along the much harder to follow Grey Hills Track which followed a scrub covered spur over a series of knolls.  In many places the wiry scratching scrub obscured the track and the going was slow with the occasional short climbs sapping my energy in the thinner air.  The views were still good, but a lot of my time was devoted to watching where my feet were going, especially near the end of the track which descended steeply to Bogong Creek Saddle.  After a brief section of firetrail, I began the steady ascent of the Quartz Ridge Trail towards the summit of Bogong and the half-way point.

Around this time, the sky clouded over and the weather began to look more ominous, a common pattern in the high country.  It was also around this time that my lack of fitness and the harder work along the Grey Hills Track began to kick in, and I found myself walking the steeper sections.  As the trail approached the Hooker Plateau, near Bogong, it passed along an exposed ridge near Quartz Knob with sheer drops to the west.  It was quite runnable but the trail wasn't always obvious and a few times I just headed cross-country in what I surmised to be the correct direction until I again picked up the trail.

At the summit of Mount Bogong (1986m).

At the summit of Mount Bogong, rain seemed imminent and the wind was picking up, so I didn't stay long before heading south-east along the bare ridge to Cleve Cole Hut and some more sheltered trail.  It soon began to rain steadily and I donned my rain-jacket, starting to feel a little cold.  The rain continued on the long technical descent to Big River through the mountain forest.  This is a beautiful section of trail and the rain just made it more atmospheric.  There's nothing quite like running or hiking through rain in an Australian eucalypt forest.  Despite now being way behind schedule, I was still enjoying myself and stopped to get a drink from a small stream just after crossing the raging Big River, hanging onto the wire safety cable.

Roper Hut.

I knew the long climb up Duane Spur would be tough - it always is in the Bogong to Hotham race - and it did not disappoint.  I was soon walking and starting to feel very hollow.  My Snickers Bars were long gone and I had had nothing else to eat for eight hours.  Half way up the climb I began to feel light-headed and could feel myself bonking.  Fantasising about Mars Bars is always a sure sign I have exhausted my glycogen energy supplies and am starting to slowly burn fats, and I was ravenous for a Mars Bar.  I started to doubt my ability to finish inside of twelve hours, thinking I would have to walk all the way back to the car, when the trail passed near Roper Hut.

From experience, I knew that hikers sometimes left unused food in mountain huts and I wasn't disappointed, though the choice was limited.  There was a glass container containing a small amount of sultanas and nuts of uncertain age, and several small sealed sachets of dried apple, something I had never previously tried.  I started eating the sultanas and nuts, which definitely tasted very old, wondering what kinds of unseen fungus they might contain and what would be the health consequences.  After a few more, I decided I would be safer with the dried apple and left with the sachets.  They weren't very big and didn't last long, but I could feel my energy levels lifting and resumed running the level sections of trail with about 10km to go.  Before long, I was wishing I had taken all of the sultanas and nuts to eat, but was saved by the gradual downhill run after Mount Nelse and finished back at my car eleven hours after I had started.  I'm sure I could run this course a lot faster if fully fit and maybe a bit more nutrition en route, but it was satisfying nevertheless, and the completion of such runs often gives my training program a kick start.

I only managed a 4km walk this morning because of time constraints, but did it comfortably.

Chilkoot Trail

Prospective miners ascend to the Chilkoot Pass during
the Klondike Gold Rush.

Apart from its health benefits, running has often helped me do things more quickly and efficiently.  I have talked about its use for commuting (see post titled Commuting), and running is a great way to journey through remote areas, but it's also been useful in facilitating one-way hiking trips in remote country.

Old boiler on the Chilkoot Trail.

In July of 1985, my then wife, Barb, and I were touring Canada and Alaska by campervan when we decided we would like to hike the famous Chilkoot Trail.  The Trail was the major access route from the sea at Dyea, near Skagway, to the Yukon goldfields during the 1890s Klondike Gold Rush.  The 33 miles of the Trail was only the start of the miners' journey to Dawson City.  It got them to the headwaters of the Yukon River where they then bought or built boats to float the remaining 560 miles downstream.  The Trail started in the US, but crossed into Canada at Chilkoot Pass (3075ft) where Canadian Mounties enforced a requirement that each miner have one ton of supplies with them (calculated to last a year).  This requirement meant that miners had to move their huge loads forward along the Trail in stages, and thriving camps grew up along the way, and much rubbish was discarded.

Chilkoot Trail.

These days, the Trail passes many rusting artifacts from those days and the abandoned locations of the towns and camps that sprouted during that time.  From the northern end of the Trail at Lindeman Lake, it is possible to hike a further 5 miles following a disused rail line to the nearest road access, the Klondike Highway.  We decided to take two days to hike the Trail and allocate half a day at the beginning and end to get to and from Skagway.

Near Chilkoot Pass.

The night before we started we camped at the trailhead in Dyea and in the morning unloaded our hiking gear before I drove our campervan back into Skagway where a kindly National Parks ranger had suggested we park it outside his house for safety.  I then ran the 9 miles back to Dyea along a road that followed the contours around forested hills overlooking the headwaters of Chilkoot Inlet.  On arrival at Dyea, we set out on our 48-hour hike which followed the very interesting Trail and included deep snow, occasional drizzle, thick fog and very cold weather.  We were glad we weren't carrying a ton of supplies each and had great admiration for the endurance of the miners.

Our hiking journey finished 38 miles later on the Klondike Highway, 28 miles north of Skagway, at 1:00pm on the third day.  We were both very tired and cold, and decided to try hitch-hiking back to Skagway, but gave up after an hour.  Plan B was that I run back to Skagway to retrieve the campervan.  The notes from our diary record that I donned "long thermal underwear, shorts, two extra tops, balaclava, gloves, passport, credit cards, money and car keys" before setting off southwards in the bitter cold.

White Pass.

The first miles were relatively flat, but very exposed, skirting several lakes beneath snow-covered peaks, before climbing a little to White Pass which marked the border between Canada and the US.  I stopped in at the very quiet border post to show my passport on a grey overcast afternoon to a US border guard who showed not the slightest interest in my strange garb or my lack transport, before beginning the steady descent towards Skagway.  Despite the greater protection provided by the thickening forest and deep valleys, and the slightly warmer conditions, I became very tired and was totally exhausted by the time I reached our van around 6:00pm.  I drove back to get Barb, picking her up about 7:00pm, and we continued onto the town of Whitehorse where we camped later that night.  Those three days of adventure still live large in my memory.

I walked 14km this morning through forests, exploring trails in the McMasters Firetrail area, in warm and sunny conditions.  I was a little breathless near the top of some of the longer climbs, but not too bad and enjoyed getting a bit hot and sweaty for a change.

Finding the boundaries

Coast Road in North Avoca tested my limits this morning.

The Holter Monitor involves having five electrodes, connected by wires to a battery-powered recording unit a bit larger than a smartphone, stuck to various parts of my chest for 24 hours.  The device will record my heart activity and I'm supposed to note the time of any periods when I feel breathless or notice heart palpitations.  I was worried the electrodes would become detached while I slept, but the technician did a good job of taping them down, and they were still there this morning.

Wamberal Beach from my walk this morning.

The Respiratory Specialist yesterday, while not encouraging me to run, implied that it wasn't necessarily dangerous, just that it would be difficult and uncomfortable.  I didn't want to confirm his prediction, but did want to get my heart-rate high enough today to provide good evidence of the occasional problems I have experienced in the last month.

Thursday, as usual, started with supervision of the 6:00am track session at Terrigal Haven on what was a beautiful sunny, and a little humid, morning.  I watched the twenty or so runners go through their paces (seven times 800m with a minute recovery between each) in the 45 minute session before they headed off to their breakfast coffees, or work, or to get their children ready for school, or all three.  I always feel a bit lazy, being retired, that they have to rush off while my day continues at a more leisurely pace.

Terrigal Beach this morning.

I returned to my car, donned my radio and headphones, and set out on a 7km walk that would include several hills I thought steep enough to test my impaired cardio-vascular system.  Rather than my usual stroll, I walked a little more briskly to encourage the symptoms.  The first significant hill climbs up the Scenic Highway out of Terrigal and I fully expected to succumb to breathlessness as I maintained a good pace, but I was surprised to reach the top without a problem.  It was good that I was feeling better than expected, but bad that there was no discernible heart arrhythmia for the Holter Monitor to record.  A little nonplussed, I continued on down Tramway into North Avoca, circled through the beachside streets and tackled the second steep hill, Coast Road.  This hill is steep enough to always be a serious challenge when running, and I couldn't envisage walking briskly up it without testing my current limits.

Terrigal Haven this morning.

Sure enough, after about 100 metres of serious climbing, I felt my heart racing and my blood pressure dropping.  I had to stop for fear of passing out, and just stood quietly for a minute, ready to sink gracefully to the side of the road if necessary.  After a minute or so, my equilibrium was restored and I continued on.  However, a few hundred metres later, at another short sharp little pinch, the same feeling enveloped me and I had to stop and stand still for a short period, again ready to cushion my fall to the road if I fainted.

It was encouraging, though, that once equilibrium was restored, I felt fine and could continue on at a good pace so long as the grade wasn't too steep.  I walked another couple of kilometres down into Terrigal before returning along the beach promenade to The Haven and my car, where I noted the times I felt unwell for the doctor to compare to the heart monitor.  I'm sure he will have something to look at now.