Isle of Dogs

The Greenwich Foot Tunnel

For a couple of years in the late 1980s, I had begun working for a new employer in London while still living at Chappel in Essex, a little over an hour's drive north east of London.  My new employer had two offices in London where I needed to spend time, one at Watford in north London, and the other in Docklands, a new development on the Isle of Dogs.  The giant Canary Wharf project in Docklands was in financial trouble and the whole development had pretty much stalled at the time.  My memory of the place at the time was of bleak isolated business parks, wintry rain squalls, the wide brown Thames River, empty blocks and vast wastelands.

The old Royal Naval College at Greenwich with Greenwich
Park including the Royal Observatory in the background

Because it was a long commute and prone to traffic chaos in peak hour, I developed the habit of leaving home soon after 5:00am and driving to the office in Docklands from where I would go for my morning run.  Although it was an apparently forbidding place for a run, my regular 10.5km run was full of interest and contrasts that remain clear in my memory.

The early kilometres were across the Isle of Dogs through narrow streets that were a mixture of poorer residential and businesses until I reached a large wasteland that has since been developed into Mudchute Park.  Here I ran along dirt and grass trails across the vast wasteland to reach the new Islands Garden railway station and the Greenwich Foot Tunnel and joined the foot commuters crossing under the Thames.  The Tunnel was a highlight of the run, with a spiral staircase at either end of about 100 steps and the tunnel itself nearly 400 metres long.  I can remember striding out along the tunnel, dodging round pedestrians, and then running up the staircase at the end, taking the steps two at a time and trying to maintain my momentum.

The modern day Isle of Dogs

At the Greenwich end of the Tunnel it was like entering a new world, or maybe old world, characterised by the stately buildings of the old Royal Naval College and Museums, wide pedestrian walkways and the famous Cutty Sark tea clipper dating from 1869.  My route passed by these scenic highlights and entered the famous Greenwich Park, home of the historic Greenwich Observatory.  I ran a lap along the paths inside of the park, which included a significant hill from which there were views north across the Thames, and then returned to the Tunnel and retraced my steps to the office.  There I would quickly have a shower, some toast for breakfast and start my day's work.  Unfortunately, in those days there was only one road route into out of the Isle of Dogs, so to avoid traffic jams I often stayed late at the office, occasionally wondering whether I should just sleep in there overnight to save the commute.

I visited the Isle of Dogs in 2012 while attending the London Olympics, and the place has been completely transformed into a vibrant business centre.

My right knee is still proving difficult to flex quickly and awkward to walk on, so I decided to have another day off training.  I will try walking a few kilometres tomorrow to gauge how much it has improved.

Reptilian encounters

Eastern Tiger snake

The warmer weather in the last month has encouraged the emergence of reptiles in the Australian bush, and there have been a number of sightings by runners along the local trails.  I have never heard of a runner being bitten by a snake, but no doubt the risk exists.

In the 1980s, my then wife and I owned a weekend shack at a place called Labertouche in the foothills of the mountains about an hour's drive east of Melbourne.  The shack could sleep a dozen people or more, in somewhat rustic conditions, and proved to be a great place for serious running training along the nearby fire-trails for us and our friends.  For some reason, in the earlier years of our ownership, there seemed to be a boom in the local snake population and almost every run of an hour or more involved at least one snake encounter, with the most common type being the Tiger snake, known for its aggressive nature.  The snake-spotting instincts I developed have stayed with me and I still analyse all sticks on the trail in front of me for the tell-tale signature of a snake in repose.  For those snake-abundant years, even at the height of summer when I would usually run topless, I always wore very thick long socks to just below my knees to reduce the chances of a successful envenomation, and carried a compressive "snake" bandage in case the worst happened.

Australian goanna

Despite encountering many snakes while running over the years, I have only once been close to a bite and that was when a small group of us, distracted by conversation, ran over a Tiger snake sunning itself on a fire-trail.  The first couple of runners frightened the snake which then reared up and lashed out in different directions as it sought to protect itself and find an escape route.  There were panicked runners leaping and yelling in all directions until the snake made good it's escape into the nearby undergrowth.

Another reptile frequently encountered in the Australian bush which can be scary, but not particularly dangerous, is the goanna.  It can grow up to two metres in length, possesses a nasty looking mouth and claws, and has the unnerving habit of crashing through the undergrowth and rapidly ascending trees when alarmed.  On one occasion, also when running from Labertouche, the fright we received when a startled large goanna raced up a tree was compounded when it lost its grip and crashed the ground just in front of us.  More leaping and yelling runners.

No training for me today; not even a walk.  My knee was quite sore all night and still painful this morning, though not as bad as yesterday.  The tell-tale test for recovery will be the ability to kneel down and then sit back on my haunches.  With this injury, the pain behind the right knee makes sitting back impossible at present.  If I'm lucky, the pain will abate sufficiently in the next few days to allow me to resume jogging.  Unfortunately, I may have to remove the heel raises protecting the sore right Achilles to give the knee more stability.  Everything's connected to everything else.

Best laid plans

I had hoped to be running this trail in the
Australian Alps early next week (photo taken
 on my hike through the Alps in 2011)

Injured again!  Yesterday I was starting to believe that I had resolved my right Achilles problem with the new heel raises, and that I was getting over my bronchial problems.  I was looking forward to a few days down at Thredbo in the Australian Alps early next week, where I planned to run some favourite alpine trails while Sharon and Jack did some skiing on the last of the season's snow.  With just a month to go until the Melbourne Marathon, and less to the shorter Australian Masters Games events prior to the marathon, there seemed to be some chance I could perform respectably, at least.

Some more of my planned running scenery for next week

Now I don't think it will happen.  I started Terrigal Trotters 10.5km North Avoca Lake Run quite conservatively this morning, having warmed up for a few kilometres.  Although I found the whole run hard, particularly the hills, I gradually worked my way through the field.  I never caught the front-runners, and still lack freshness and zest, but at least I ran a lot better than last week.

I wasn't conscious of any particular problems during the run, though my chronic right knee and Achilles injuries were about as worrisome as usual.  The new problem became evident after the run, when a dull pain emerged behind my right knee and proceeded to get worse and worse during the day.  If I sit down for any length of time, the pain is significant as soon as I try straighten the knee and begin walking again.  I have a feeling that it is related to the Baker's Cyst, a fluid sac behind the knee, that can become swollen if the knee is unstable.  It's an injury I have had in the past and the swelling can take a long time to subside (friends have had the fluid in the sac removed via a syringe, but often the problem quickly recurs if the knee is still unstable).



Diagram of the knee showing the location of the
Baker's Cyst, which I believe to be my latest injury

Anyway, given that I am not in peak form nor believe I'm destined to run well in Melbourne, it's easier to be smart and see if the knee settles down rather than plough on with the planned training for this week.  Today was the first time I have run faster in the new heel raises, and my guess is that this slight change in the angles of the lower leg and foot biomechanics has increased the pressure on the knee and affected its stability.  I've only been wearing the heel raises for four days, and my muscles and ligaments have probably not had sufficient time to adapt to the change in the biomechanics, especially if I'm running faster and putting more pressure on all joints.  There's an outside chance that the pain will subside overnight, and I'll be able to run tomorrow, but already in my head I've written off the next month, including the planned races.

Exotic podiums

Finishing the Quebec City 10km Fun Run (5th, 33:50)
while touring Canada in 1985

It was actually drizzling with rain when I jogged a slow 5km round Copa this morning.  It seemed exotic after our long warm dry spell, and may herald a return to more seasonal spring weather, though it stopped shortly after my run.  Although only over a short distance, I was moving more freely this morning, and my right Achilles and arch weren't too painful.  My time was a minute or two slower than I expect to jog round this course when I'm in good shape, so I'm not getting my hopes up.  Tomorrow morning's run with Terrigal Trotters will be more useful in gauging my fitness.

A steady run through the field yielded
a win in the 40+ age group, and 2nd
overall in a trail Half Marathon
while working in Germany

A runner I know has just left for the UK on vacation, and another I know will be visiting there at Christmas.  I was pleased to hear that both are looking to find some races to run while they are away because I know they will savour the experience.  Running some local races adds an extra dimension to any trip.

If you have hopes of a podium finish - open or age-group - there is a frisson of excitement in being the unknown quantity or dark horse in the field, especially in small local races where everybody knows the fast runners.  I have been in races where the fast early starters drop rapidly away and you find yourself in front, others where the pace seems slow and you can't believe how easy it is to get away, and others which became duels to the finish.  I have also been left in the dust by clearly superior athletes.

With the winner of the 60+ age group (I was 2nd) in the
2012 Orange County 10km Santa Run in the US

Depending on the location, the scenery, terrain, smells and culture can feel exotic and stimulating while sometimes the weather can be an experience in itself.  Races draw you to locations and communities that you might not otherwise visit.  Your horizons are broadened, you meet new people and you see different ways of doing things.

I have always sought out races in places I have visited while touring or working over the years and often tweak my schedule to fit them in.  Almost all have been cherished and remembered experiences.  Even now, when I travel on vacation (unless it is a hiking or biking trip) I scan the web calendars and try to work as many runs into the itinerary as possible, always with an eye on those age group podiums.  It doesn't always happen, but when it does you can score nice little trophies to accompany those eye-catching race T-shirts.

September 11th

Pear Tree Point Road, Darien

My legs were very heavy, as I expected they would be, when I set out for this morning's 11.5km run after supervising the Terrigal Trotters track session at The Haven.  I plodded slowly up the early steep hills, with my legs still feeling every metre of yesterday's 30km trail run.  When the course flattened out, I felt a little better, but as soon as I hit the hills again, the fatigue returned.  I was still coughing a lot, but was happy to find that my right Achilles tendon wasn't too bad after yesterday's exertions.  Perhaps a glimmer of light at the end of that particular injury tunnel?

Looking down Long Island Sound from Pear Tree Point
Beach, Darien

As I often do on these tedious runs, I listened to the morning news programs on my radio, and heard a report on yesterday's commemorations in the US of the 12th anniversary of the September 11th terrorist attacks.  I was working in the New York area on that day, on the top floor of an office tower 30 miles north of the Twin Towers, and the events are etched in my memory.  On a very clear sunny day, we could see the smoke rising from the downtown skyline while we followed events on television, and soon sent our anxious staff home.  My company, which was a major supplier of financial information and systems to Wall Street, had a number of offices near the Twin Towers, and I was a frequent visitor to our offices and clients, including in the doomed Towers.  Sadly, six of our staff died, along with many clients.  I knew a number of people directly affected, including some later honoured for their efforts that day.  Our lives had a shadow hanging over them for many months.  Parents at my children's schools had been lost and forlorn cars in the station car parks along our line gathering dust over the ensuing months.  They were the cars of commuters who never came home.

The New York City skyline was incomplete
after September 11, 2001.

There was a pervasive sense of loss in the community, and it affected us all in many ways, large and small.  One of my favourite runs from my home in Darien, Connecticut, went along the pretty Pear Tree Point Road past Pear Tree Point Beach.  Although they were 35 miles away across Long Island Sound, on a clear day it had been possible to get a glimpse of the Twin Towers from a couple of points along the road, something we enjoyed showing our visitors.  It's trivial in the scheme of things, but for our remaining time in Darien I rarely ran past those points without looking in the direction of Manhattan and experiencing a visceral feeling that something was missing.

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.

Toronto

Looking north over Toronto

My right Achilles tendon was very sore when I woke this morning and still sore when I went for a gentle 5km walk a few hours later, despite adding an old heel raise to my shoes to lessen the stretch pressure on the tendon.  Much of the walk was spent pondering how to get past the Achilles injury and start running well again.  The starting point was asking myself what has changed since earlier in the year when I had some good fitness.  I'm seeing the doctor tomorrow about my exercise-induced asthma, but maybe it results from a change in my training pattern.  Perhaps running the Six at Six race on Wednesday nights and following up with a Thursday morning run is an issue.  I need more than 12 hours between runs these days and running only in the evenings is neither practical for me, nor desirable.

My course headed north out of the CBD along Yonge Street

The Achilles loosened up a bit during the walk and I decided I might be better to concentrate on improving my base fitness ahead of speed for the next month and revert to two longish runs per week plus a tempo run at Terrigal Trotters on Saturday mornings.  If I can get round 10km tomorrow morning without too much pain, I'll try something longer on Wednesday morning.  It was another beautiful warm morning in Copa and the icing on the cake was watching a large pod of dolphins surfing just offshore in the sizeable swell.

The last part of the course passed by Queens Park near
the University

Dolphins and surf seem a long way from Toronto in Canada, where I worked frequently during the six years from 1997 to 2003 when I was based in New York.  I had responsibility for a group there and generally tried to spend two or three days working out of the Toronto office every two weeks.  Although I enjoyed working with the Canadians, I have to say I found Toronto a bit bland from a runner's perspective.  As a large city on a relatively boring piece of water, Toronto is similar to Melbourne and Chicago, but lacks the near downtown parks and waterfront paths of the latter two.  My usual hotel was in the downtown area and I tried a number of different routes in various directions before settling on a favourite Toronto 14km, for my early morning runs.

Basically it was just a long rectangle stretching north of the business district into the suburbs, and given that Toronto is located on a long slope with Lake Erie at its base, the course was mostly uphill on the way out and downhill on the way back.  It wasn't that interesting, but there's something that appeals to me about long straight stretches along street-lit roads in the early morning as the city awakes.  Another aspect of this course I liked was that, by the time I had worked hard on the uphill outwards leg, I was well warmed up, and then the return downhill trip, with the last part through the University precinct, was often run at a fast and enjoyable pace.

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.

Problem management

The path followed around the edge of Cockrone Lagoon at
McMasters Beach during this morning's run.

My right Achilles was still stiff and painful this morning as I headed out for an easy and flat 7km across the Cockrone Lagoon sandbar and through McMasters Beach.  I'm still wheezing and coughing a lot, but there is a very high pollen count on these warm spring days, and allergies may be exacerbating the problem.  Despite these two significant problems, I did feel like I was moving a bit better this morning, but I need to get these issues to a manageable level.

In the past, prior to surgery, I have managed chronic Achilles problems through the use of heel raises.  I recently purchased some at a sports store, but they are softish and more designed to cushion the heel strike.  I wonder if they make the problem worse, because there seems to be greater friction between the heel and the shoe as the pad compresses.  Thirty years ago, I used more rigid heel raises and often wore them for years on end.  The theory behind these heel raises is that the heel is higher relative to the front of the foot and therefore, with each step, the angle defined between the lower leg and foot is less acute.  We are talking millimetres, but it does make a difference.  I used to make my own heel raises by carving up the heels of old thongs (flip flops) and velcroing them to the inside base of my shoes.  Sadly, the thongs of these days seem to be made of softer and thicker material, and making my own heel raises hasn't been practicable.  An alternative I once used were Sorbothane heel pads and I've found they are still available on the web, so have ordered some.  If they don't work, I think I'll be visiting Dr Jon and getting an MRI.  I suspect there is a heel spur that needs to be removed, and that will put me out of running for months.

Cockrone Lagoon from the Copa side

The breathing difficulties I have been dealing with recently may be a consequence from ceasing use of the asthma medication I have been on for the last few years.  I stopped taking Seretide because it was giving me headaches, and before that, the doctor recommended I stop taking Symbicort which has had some adverse findings concerning long-term use.  Ventolin seems to help a bit, but I'm only taking it on days when I race.  I'm not sure that it is wise to be taking it before every run although a web search hasn't revealed evidence of any long-term use side-effects.  Two other major considerations for me are that I don't like the idea of taking anything long-term, and I don't want to take anything that is prohibited by the World Anti-Doping Agency (WADA) or the Australian Sports Anti-Doping Authority (ASADA).  The latter has a "Check your Substances" facility that allows you to make sure you are not contravening the rules and the FAQ on the Australian Sports Drug Medical Advisory Committee (ASDMAC) also provides good information.  Both of these websites show the medications I have been using comply with the rules, but that leaves the problem of avoiding long-term use.  I've made an appointment with my doctor next week to discuss the best option.

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.

Racing injured

Two Peoples Bay, near where I stayed when I ran the
Albany Marathon in 1981

My right Achilles tendon and arch were both quite sore this morning, but that was to be expected after a long run, so I wasn't too worried.  In late morning I headed out in the warmth and sunshine for a 5km walk round Copa, taking care not to force the stiff and sore Achilles.  I felt quite flat after the rigours of yesterday's run and a late night (Terrigal Trotters Annual General Meeting).  My chest was still congested and I was glad a run wasn't scheduled for today.

I still intend to run the regular Six at Six tomorrow night and the 25km Woodford to Glenbrook trail race on Sunday, but it's hard to believe I'm going to run well in either.  I'm in the "stick to the plan and it will all work out" mode, which has generally served me well in the past, but not always.

Near the half-way point of the Albany Marathon course

Running injured is never much fun.  Non-runners often do not appreciate how frequently injuries afflict runners or how hard it can be to produce your best.  Back in 1981, I received an invitation to run in the Albany Marathon in Western Australia, with all expenses paid.  It was shortly after running second in the 1981 Big M Melbourne Marathon in 2:19:29, and I'm sure the organisers thought I would back up a month later with another sub-2:20, and a new course record in Albany.  Unknown to them, I had been carrying a serious Achilles tendon injury for some time and was already booked in for surgery four days after their race.  However, with the help of anti-inflammatories, I was still running, and was reluctant to pass up the chance of a free trip to the West.  I told them I couldn't guarantee anything faster than about 2:25 in a small race on an unknown course, and neglected to mention the upcoming surgery.

They organized the tickets and I travelled to Albany two days before the race, staying in a lovely guest house on a bay to the east of town.  My Achilles was very sore and I hadn't run further than 16km in three weeks.  Then, to my consternation, I developed a blister on a short training run, and through changing my gait, ended up with a painful locked muscle on the outside of my left shin.  I was having trouble walking, let alone running, but didn't feel I could, or should, say anything about my problems to the organisers.  I just hoped that I could win the event with a minimum of fuss, even if my time was slower than predicted.

My Race Certificate for the Albany Marathon

The day of the race was cool, overcast and blustery, and I was taken aback to find Dave Eltringham, a well-performed marathoner I knew from Melbourne, in the line-up.  He was a native of nearby Esperance and was home on vacation and to run the marathon.  I was starting to feel a lot of pressure.  When the gun fired, I quickly went to the lead at a solid clip, hoping any contenders (i.e., Dave) would give up early.  I was soon on my own, and after about 10km, relaxed the pace a little.  My Achilles hurt, my locked muscle was painful, I was having trouble running smoothly, and I just wanted it to all be over.

I reached the half-way point in exactly 1:12:30, and glanced over my shoulder, hoping nobody would be in sight.  Dave was a good runner, but with a best of just under 2:30, I hoped he would not be in contention at that pace in a minor marathon.  Alarmingly, he was less than 100 metres behind, obviously having a great run, and with me squarely in his sights.  I was not going to be able to coast the last half and tried to lift my tempo a little.  It was very hard work, made harder by some violent cold rain squalls and fierce winds in the last 10km.  The finish finally came into sight and I collapsed across the line in exactly 2:25:05, drenched, absolutely exhausted and in a lot of pain from my injuries.  Dave followed a minute or so later in a new Personal Best time.

The organizer commented that my time matched my pre-trip prediction almost exactly and that my two halves were perfectly even.  I could tell he thought it was just a "milk run" for me, where I had taken it as easily as I could whilst meeting my commitment.  In reality, it was one of the hardest races I ever ran, and one of those of which I am most proud.