Shoe therapy

Hoka Shoes

Many of my friends in Terrigal Trotters have recently been switching to Hoka shoes which have thick cushioned soles.  They certainly have been building a loyal following and have enabled a number of runners with chronic foot problems to begin running again.  There is plenty of good-natured banter within the Club about the benefits of the shoes and the Luddites who have refused to switch.  Certainly there are those who think it would help me with my current foot problems.  I'm somewhat sceptical that will solve my particular problem but accept that they have made a big difference to some of my club-mates.

Vibram Five Fingers Minimalist Shoes

At the other end of the spectrum, there are still some runners at the Club wearing minimalist shoes and I often dream of the days when I could comfortably run track and beach sessions on grass, and even occasionally on concrete footpaths and roads, in bare feet.  I would love to be able to run in bare feet again, but am rational enough to know that those days ended around the age of twenty and I think there is sufficient evidence now that such minimalist shoes are risky for many runners, especially if they are switching from shoes with raised heels.

Off-the-shelf insoles with moulded arch supports

There are also many Terrigal Trotter advocates of professionally made orthotics, and these have also been suggested as a solution to my arch problems.  I'm reluctant to spend significant amounts of money on custom orthotics, primarily because I don't think the benefit will justify the cost.  During my army days, I did develop a significant arch problem and began wearing an off-the-shelf plastic orthotic which, eventually, did seem to do the trick.  Similarly, I learnt to deal with chronic Achilles tendon injuries by constructing heel raises out of old rubber thongs and wore these for many years during my prime.  I still ended up with a number of surgical operations, but believe these cheap heel raises enabled me to run many miles in training and races with less pain.

My arch was still a little tender today after yesterday's abortive run, and I didn't go for a walk or run.  Instead, during the afternoon I visited a very large mall nearby to see whether I could find some shoe insoles that incorporated good arch support.  Eventually, in a Nike store, I found some excessively-priced arch supports which I purchased (I'll be looking for cheaper online versions when this new pair wears out).  I do feel they are supporting the injured arch, but will withhold judgment on whether they will enable me to resume running more quickly.  I'll try walking a couple of kilometres tomorrow morning and take it from there.

Despondency

Central Park, Malvern

Sadly, it was evident to me after a few hundred metres of jogging this morning that my right arch is still not right.  I feel a weakness in the arch that causes me to slap my foot down more than I would like, so the problem remains.  It was very tempting to keep jogging, which I could have easily done, but common sense finally prevailed, and I walked the remaining 3km of my loop in very cold conditions, cursing my bad fortune.  Even crossing Malvern's Central Park near the end of my walk didn't raise my spirits.  Thirty years ago, I used to run along the eastern border of this small suburban park during one of my favourite mid-week long runs after work.  It was a source of inspiration then, and now, knowing that one of my childhood heroes, John Landy, spent many hours training there.

John Landy leads the Mile in the 1954 Empire
Games in Vancouver

It's hard to explain to someone who is not a runner how much you miss it when you can't run.  The warm and sweaty glow, the breathlessness, the tired limbs, the feeling of physical capability and power, and the sense of having done something worthwhile all contribute to a sense of well-being.  I have tried cycling, kayaking and swimming as substitutes when injured previously, but none of them quite fits the bill.

I came home from my walk and devoted an hour or two surfing medical websites trying to match my symptoms and work out the best rehabilitation plan.  Of course, I could go and see a doctor, get scans, orthotics, etc., but I do feel the injury is repairing, but it's slower than I hoped.  After looking at various possible diagnoses, the one which most matches my symptoms and seems the most probable is a minor strain of the Posterior Tibial Tendon.  The suggested treatment is rest and an arch support, and the pain is likely to last three months or longer.  The treatment wasn't very different for the other foot injuries that shared my symptoms, so there doesn't seem to be much point in pursuing medical help at this stage.

However, another three to five weeks of rest will certainly rule out any chance of a good performance in the Melbourne Marathon, so I need to reassess my goals and change my plans.  I do need a goal to give my recuperation and running a focus, but there's no need for a hasty decision.  I won't design a training program for another marathon, perhaps Hobart in January, until I'm sure that I will be able to train free of pain.

In the short-term, I do need to get my diet back "on the wagon", and work out whether I want to try cycling while the arch heals.  The argument for cycling is that it will give my cardio-vascular system a work out, but the arguments against include the inconvenience and my view that cycling builds leg muscles I don't need for running and will slow my comeback when I begin running again.  I'll take another few days to think about it.

Compensatory eating

When cycling all day, as was the case during my Round Australia
record attempts, the "Big Breakfast" was a daily feature of my
diet, with no weight impact.

The last three weeks of no running has been a test of my dietary willpower, and I'm starting to lose the battle.  I have never been someone who is naturally thin.....and I like my food.  In my teens and twenties, I didn't worry about what I ate at all.  Youthful musculature and plenty of miles, was enough to keep me at a good running weight.  When I reached my running peak, I began to take more care with what I ate but my best racing weight remained around 64kg, with the lightest I ever remember recording being 61kg.

In my latter years, I have considered 66-68kg to be my desirable running weight, but on occasions, have been as high as 76kg.  If I stop running and eat what I feel like, I can rapidly gain those 8kg, and it takes much longer to lose them again.

A few years ago, it became obvious to me that even when running 80-100 kilometres per week, if I didn't watch what I ate, my weight stabilised around 72kg, too heavy to run really well.  In a somewhat obvious epiphany, I realised that my body was no longer able to support the running necessary to bring down my weight, and that if I wanted to maintain a reasonable running weight and stay healthy for my remaining years, I was going to have to cut down on my eating.

Since then, with the exception of hiking and biking trips, I have adhered to some fairly simple dietary rules - no snacks, no desserts and no second helpings.  As a further measure, I limit the size of my breakfast (usually one slice of toast with peanut butter plus a large fruit juice) and eat it as late as possible, and limit the size of my lunch to one sandwich.  Dinner tends to be larger, but limited to one plate only.  I don't drink alcohol or sugared soft drinks, but do drink a lot of diet cola.  Limited treats (maybe chocolate or corn chips) are allowed after long runs or during trips to the cinema.  I try not to beat myself up if I stray occasionally, and permit limited dietary holidays for Easter, Christmas, etc.

This regime has worked well to keep my weight in the 66-68kg range for most of the last three or four years, but I always struggle a bit when I have to stop running because of injury, and that has been the case this week.  One factor is despondency about my injury and its impact on my Melbourne Marathon ambitions.  Another is the change to my daily routine because of my trip to Melbourne.  It has become very easy to have a biscuit for morning tea, or some dessert after dinner.  Partly, it's because I like my food, but partly it is driven by the need for a "feel good" replacement for the running I am missing.  Of course, the "feel good" part only lasts for a few minutes, while the physical consequences can last a lot longer.

I didn't find time to do my scheduled 5km walk today, but still plan to run and walk 5km tomorrow.  It will be the first running I have done for three weeks.  Normally that would be enough time for a soft tissue injury to repair, but I fear I may have walked a little too much in the first week I had off running.  Time will tell.  I'm confident that if I can resume regular running, then I will find it easier to resume my dietary discipline.  If still hampered by injury, then I will have to give myself a good "talking to" about my deteriorating dietary habits.  It's hard enough to come back from injury.  If you are carrying extra kilograms, it not only becomes even harder, but the risk of other injury increases because of the extra weight you are carrying.

Melbourne evocations

Melbourne High School with the sports ground in the
foreground where our favourite MHSOB track sessions
was "quarters 'til you chuck".

I walked 5km again this morning, trying keep my weight on the outside of my right foot and thus limit any stress on my injured right arch.  I got through the walk pretty much pain-free, but am still quite anxious about the arch's recuperation.  I'll try another 5km walk tomorrow, and then some jogging and walking on Sunday if all is well.

Melbourne, where I am staying for a week, is inextricably tied to my running career.  Almost everywhere I drive, run or walk through the suburbs evokes memories of my early running life.  I did run some cross-country races in school, but it was really only when I graduated from Melbourne High School, enrolled at Monash University, and joined the Melbourne High School Old Boys (MHSOB) Athletic Club, that my serious running career began.

Getting changed (me in foreground) after a run in the
dunes and a swim at Cape Schanck

Although I had just joined MHSOB, where I ran lower grade middle distance events with the likes of future Olympian, Chris Wardlaw, it was the friendship I established at Monash with JB, a fellow Economics 101 student and excellent high school athlete, that really set me on a distance running path.  Apart from introducing me to the exceptionally talented distance running fraternity at Monash University, where JB had much more credibility than me, he lived near me and we began training together.  JB also belonged to a different athletic club, YMCA, whose membership included a number of distance runners with whom I began to train regularly. 

In retrospect, it is obvious that during this period (my late teens), the exposure I had to elite athletes, the running friends I made, and the very modest success I enjoyed, set the course for the rest of my life.  My training was somewhat erratic and experimental, but I was learning by observing and doing.  Some extracts from my training diary are illustrative of my life during this time (with comments in italics).

11 Oct 69 -  Pre-season Trials 1 Mile, Dolamore Oval, 4:51.0, unplaced
I have memories of running at Dolamore Oval with Chris Wardlaw for MHSOB and this may have been one of those times.

8 Feb 70 - YMCA Club Championships 100 Yards, 11.2, 5th; YMCA Club Championships 220 Yards, 25.5, 5th
I wasn't yet a member of YMCA, but they let me run in their Club Champs.

16 Mar 70 - 10am. Freddy's warm-up, 10 X 50 Yards fast.  Tired.
Fred Lester was a German refugee and a renowned eccentric figure in Australian running, founding the Victorian Marathon Club (VMC) and coaching YMCA athletes.  He often set our session training programs, though we didn't always follow them.  As I recall, his warm-up was 8 laps striding the straights and jogging the bends.

19 Mar 70 - 9pm.  10 Miles on the road with JB.  Tired.
JB and I frequently trained at 9pm at night.  I can remember, on some hot nights, we climbed over the fence into the (closed) local public swimming pool to cool off after our runs.  We lived about one mile from each other and later, when John got his car, we would often drive somewhere different on those nights and run there for a change, enjoying the liberation of having our own transport.

22 Mar 70 - Sprinting in sand dunes.  Tired.
We stayed at a YMCA club-mate's family holiday house in Rye back beach for a training weekend.  There were also very competitive games of cricket and volleyball, and games of cards lasting long into the night.

4 Apr 70 - 2pm.  Wimmera AC Meeting 880 yards, 2:06.6, unplaced, 220 yards, 25.7, 5th (against Peter Norman!).  Felt sick because of lack of sleep and bad food.
We drove up to Horsham late on the Friday night from Melbourne, after a volleyball game, and camped at the oval where the running was held the next day.  Peter Norman had won an Olympic silver medal in the 200m in Mexico less than two years earlier, so lining up against him over 220 yards was quite a buzz.

11 Apr 70 - Strathmerton Country Meeting, 2 X 880 yards, 2:09.0 and 2:05.5, unplaced, 3 mile jog.  Tired.
We drove up to Strathmerton late on Friday night, after a volleyball game.  We camped next to the track and fellow athletes included Olympic athletes, Raelene Boyle and Ray Rigby.  The latter, a shot putter, was also astonishingly good at the sprints and high jump.

15 Apr 70 - 3pm.  Represented Universities vs Armed Forces in 800m at HMAS Cerberus, 2:04.5, unplaced.  Exhausted.
I was just making up the numbers for the Universities, and anybody could run.  Monash University, which I was attending, had a number of national and international standard athletes and I was just an also-ran.  Ironically, two years later, I was representing the Armed Forces at the same event, after being conscripted to the Australian Army, and running against some of my former team-mates.

1 May 70 - 1:30pm.  2 miles of Monash University Championships 10,000m.  Not very tired.
I can't remember this race, but suspect I was totally outclassed by the other runners and chucked it in.  Symptomatic of my lack of success over 10,000m on the track, which I always found to be a very tough race.  It made me suspect my toughness when the going got tough.

8 May 70 - 5pm.  Jog 1 mile, 4 X 100m sprints.  Slightly tired. (Hard game of volleyball at 10pm.)
Most of my running friends were very good all-round athletes and we played many seasons of Friday night volleyball at the Balwyn YMCA competition and sometimes on other weeknights in other competitions.

15 May 70 - No training - on way to Brisbane - heavy cold.
I had no car and often hitch-hiked to Brisbane to visit my grandparents and other relatives during university vacations.

6 Jun 70 - 11pm.  10 miles easy.  Very tired, came out in a rash.
I can still remember this run up towards Templestowe late on a Saturday night, probably indicative of my social life at the time.  It was an easy run but I came out in a strange rash when I got home and can remember showing it to my father who was a bit bemused as to why anybody would be out running at 11pm on a Saturday night (in heavy fog) anyway.

13 Jun 70 - 3pm.  APSOB Half Marathon, Yan Yean, 85:54.0 (6:33 per mile, beaten by Dick).  Exhausted.
During this time, I considered myself fortunate to be welcomed to many APSOB (Association of Public Schools Old Boys) events because of ex-Marcellin School friends in the YMCA Athletics Club.  I wouldn't have been happy about being beaten by Dick, who was a friend and reasonable runner in the YMCA Club, but someone I would have expected to beat.  This is probably unfair to Dick and a reflection of my ambitions rather than ability at the time.

20 Jun 70 - 3:30pm.  2½ miles of VAAA 10,000m CCC, Cranbourne.  Pulled out because of knee injury (however, not serious).
Perhaps another example of me chucking it in when the going got tough.

5 Jul 70 - 11:30am.  8 miles orienteering.  Tired.
I remember competing in some of the first orienteering events in Victoria and this may have been one of them.

16 Jul 70 - 11am.  16 miles from Monash University.  Not very tired, but wet, frozen and miserable.
I can still remember arriving back from this run, which was along exposed roads through the windswept hills and paddocks of Melbourne's southeast, to the changing room at the Monash Sports Centre much to the amusement (and, I hoped, admiration) of two star Australian distance runners - Chris Wardlaw and, I think, Bruce Jones - who were about to set off for a shorter training run.

22 Aug 70 - 1:30pm.  VAAA Marathon Champs, Werribee, 2:44:55 (6:17 per mile), 7th.  Exhausted (20 - 24 miles was the worst), suffered from blisters near the end.
I can still remember sprinting some guy off in the last 100m to capture 7th place and the elation that I felt at being in the top 10 in a State championship.  I don't think I had any expectations as to time, but was pleased with the placing.  Afterwards, I felt that this must be my distance.

The Hume

The Murray River at Albury

In the late morning, I stopped off at Albury for a walk on my journey to Melbourne.  There are some nice bike paths along the Murray River, which marks the border between the states of Victoria and New South Wales, and it's a good place to take a break from the long drive and get some exercise.

I make the trip from the Central Coast down the Hume Freeway four or five times a year, as my parents, siblings and daughter live in Melbourne, and have become very familiar with the road and services (especially bakeries) along the way.  It is a long drive, freeway all of the way, so it's important to take breaks to avoid driving fatigue.


Trail at Chiltern - Mt Pilot
National Park

Generally, I stop for a run somewhere along the way, and have found a few good locations.  Ideally, I don't want to drive too far off the road and want a place with toilets, good trails, and somewhere safe to leave the car.  Albury has become a recent favourite because of the beautiful parks, bike paths and a couple of good hills with trails.  But I have also enjoyed the trails and hills in Chiltern Mt Pilot National Park near Wangaratta and Reef Hills Park near Benalla.

I always plan for the driving day to be a training recovery day, so there is no pressure to do more than 10-12km, saving time and avoiding too much fatigue for the subsequent driving hours.



Today, I just walked for an hour, or about 5km.  I could still feel discomfort in the arch, but not much else to report.

Nearing Melbourne

Drugs

Chris Wardlaw leading a race in his prime.

Drugs are a topical subject at present, in the news, and for me personally.

Asafa Powell and Tyson Gaye have just failed drug tests and won't be running in the upcoming World Championships.

Personally, I have been struggling with respiratory problems for a couple of years and had my latest medical appointment yesterday.  I had been using a prescribed asthma medication, Symbicort, and have now been switched by my doctor to Seretide.  Following a few recent respiratory issues, my doctor had also prescribed Prednisolone for a limited period.  However, as is my habit, I Googled the medications prescribed for me before taking them and discovered that a Therapeutic Use Exemption (TUE) is needed for Prednisolone if competing in sport.  Symbicort and Seretide are permitted, though the former must not be used excessively (700% more than prescribed).  I didn't bother filling the Prednisolone prescription.

Some argue that performance enhancing drugs should not be banned so that there is a level playing field for all athletes.  I think this is a flawed argument.  I believe there would be a race to the bottom and many vulnerable athletes would suffer permanent damage, and possibly death.  There are already celebrated cases of cyclists and runners dying in mysterious circumstances, possibly associated with the use of performance enhancing drugs.

A related question is the appropriate definition of performance enhancing.  An argument, made by a great Australian runner and coach, Chris Wardlaw, with whom I used to occasionally train and play golf in my younger days, was that anything that enabled an athlete to train harder, especially when injured, was a performance enhancing drug.  His view was that an important determinant of an athlete's competitiveness was the amount of training they were able to absorb.  If medical intervention was required to allow an athlete to continue to train or train harder, such as taking anti-inflammatories (even over-the-counter), because of a muscle tear, or similar, then Chris argued the anti-inflammatory was a performance enhancing drug.  I always thought Chris had a valid point, though it might be hard to draw the line.  For instance, what about knee surgery that ultimately gets an athlete running again, when otherwise, their career would be over?

I spent a lot of time mulling over Chris's argument, and agonising over my own occasional use of prescribed anti-inflammatory medications as I became a more serious runner.  I wanted to be ethically squeaky clean, but also thought the line Chris wanted to draw was too draconian and perhaps too blurry.  Ultimately, I came to the view that any drug or medical procedure that would make no difference to the performance of a healthy fully-trained athlete, was not performance enhancing.  This seems to be the principle underlying the WADA prohibited list as well.

I walked another 5km this morning, and will do the same tomorrow and start jogging a little on Friday.  There is still some minor discomfort in my right arch and I'm certainly not confident that I'm over the injury.  Fingers crossed!

Side benefits

My running career started a long time ago.  First win, in
a low-key school's race in London's Richmond Park (1967)

Yet more walking for exercise this morning.  Just 5km around the streets of Copa and still some discomfort in my right arch, so not particularly encouraging.  I risked a 50m jog at the end of the walk and there was no real problem, so I'm still planning to resume jogging later this week.

While attending to some desktop chores today, I watched a DVD called It's Not That Hard, produced by an ultra-running friend, Ana.  It featured interviews with many Australian Ultra-runners I know, each of them explaining what they get out of trail ultra-running.  Many of the comments struck a chord with me.  Of course, long-distance running has the obvious benefit of improving health and well-being (except when you get injured!), but it also provides great lessons for life.

Knowing that you can accomplish physical feats and be significantly healthier than your demographic, through the application of planning, preparation and discipline, gives you a belief in your abilities that extends beyond running.  It has given me the confidence to take on formidable challenges in my private life and career knowing that if I apply the same principles I will most likely be successful.

The earliest race certificate in my
running file.

Another lesson has been that the more you train, the better you will get.  With respect to running, your body adapts to make you a more efficient and accomplished runner.  Your muscles build and fine-tune, your posture changes, your stride length increases and your cardio-vascular system becomes more efficient.  I know that my heart size and lung capacity are in the top few percent for my demographic, whilst my pulse rate and blood pressure match those of athletes many years younger.  Adaption, through repetition has even helped me overcome injuries.  Everybody has physical idiosyncrasies, some inherited and some through injury.  I believe that my body has dealt with past serious chronic injuries through subconsciously adapting my running style to reduce the impact on those injuries.  For example, my feet have splayed over time to deal with chronic Achilles injuries by marginally shortening the length the tendons need to stretch while running.  Training, repetition and adaptation have also benefited me outside of running - in work tasks, household chores, and such things as public speaking.

Most of the time, the planning and preparation is as rewarding as is success in the goal event.  All runners I know, savour much of the training that they do and the environments in which they run.  I have many more happy memories of training runs than I do of races.  Nothing beats the feeling of running well along a bush trail or strongly up a hill or with a group of friends.  It's important to enjoy these good times and not to be solely focussed on a target event, which may not always be as rewarding as hoped.  This "smell the roses" approach has increasingly influenced my life outside of running.  Retiring from work as soon as I thought I could afford it was, perhaps, the biggest instance.  (Not that I didn't enjoy my work, but there were many things on my bucket list.)  We all know people who have been suddenly struck down with serious illness, or worse.  There's a balance, of course, but I have definitely become an advocate of "live for today" as opposed to saving yourself for a luxurious retirement.

Maybe most importantly of all, dealing with the derailment of best laid race plans in my running career, has helped me build the skills and experience to deal with the vicissitudes of life.  Over a running career you learn that such calamities loom large at the time, but just become bad memories in retrospect.  Everything is cyclical in running, and in life.  There are cycles within cycles, and bad days are followed by good days, bad months by good months, and so on.  Perhaps the biggest lesson from running for me has been to keep things in perspective and have faith that you will get over those bad times and have more good times.

Milford Track

Milford Track

As planned, I only walked 2km again today.  For some inexplicable reason, I felt a bit more optimistic that I would be back running soon.  Maybe it's because I now have even more incentive to succeed in my dream of running another sub-3:00 marathon (see yesterday's Post), or maybe it's because my right foot is feeling more serviceable.  I have found in the past that sometimes you can just sense when a soft tissue injury has repaired, and I'm hoping that is the case this time.

I will be driving down to Melbourne (1,000km) later in the week to visit family for five days, so will plan to walk as my training up to departure, and then resume some light jogging while in Melbourne.

Given there's not much training to talk about today, I thought I would relate the story of my attempt to run the length of the famous Milford Track in New Zealand when I was younger, fitter, and arguably, more naïve.

In January 1979, my then wife and I vacationed in New Zealand with four other couples associated with the Kew Camberwell athletic club.  We hired a minivan for the month and toured both islands, staying in campsites.  The males were all serious runners, as was my wife, and running became an integral part of the trip with us heading out to run trails or roads most days, as well as competing in several races.  At the time I was training hard, running well and looking for interesting long runs to do at every opportunity.

Our travels took us to the tourist town of Te Anau in the South Island, the jumping off point for the boat trip to the Milford Track trailhead at Glade House.  The 54km Milford Track was famous for its rugged beauty, and I harboured an ambition to run its length in a single day.  There were, however, two serious obstacles.  Firstly, traffic on the track was already carefully managed and I could not get on the boat unless I was equipped for the four-day hike and had hut bookings.  Secondly, the Track ended at Sandfly Point on Milford Sound from where the last boat to the village of Milford Sound (accessible by road), departed at 4:00pm (from memory).  If I failed to make the boat, I would have to rough it for the night.



Looking to Glade House, and the start of the Milford Track
from Dore Pass

My fitness was such that I was confident I could comfortably run the 54km along the iconic trail in less than 5 hours and I pored over tourist brochures and maps trying to work out a way I could make the attempt without inconveniencing my friends.  The latter were keen to drive up to Milford Sound anyway, and perhaps go on a boat cruise.  I finally concluded that my best chance lay in them dropping me off at the Dore Pass Trailhead on their way to Milford Sound and from there I would run the 10.5km to Glade House, and the start of the Milford Track, via the 1390m Dore Pass.

I was dropped off at 8:30am, giving me about 7.5 hours to get to Sandfly Point and the boat.  I was wearing shorts and a T-shirt, and carrying a rainjacket.  For nutrition I had a packet of jelly beans, and for other contingencies, a $50 note.  My friends were going to Milford Sound and would wait for the last boat from Sandfly Point.  If I was not on it, they were going to return to Te Anau and I was going to get a bus or hitch-hike back there from Milford Sound the next day.

I set off confidently at a good pace, but the 1000m climb in just 6km along a goat track to Dore Pass really slowed me down.  It took 2.5 hours, leaving me just 5 hours to descend 1300m to Glade House, and then complete the Milford Track.  The chances of making it in time to catch the boat were slim, at best, and I very reluctantly decided to return to the road and run towards Milford Sound, hopefully meeting my friends as they drove back to Te Anau.  It took less than 90 minutes to retrace my steps and then I began to run steadily towards Milford Sound. There was some traffic, but no settlements en route, and I just plugged away, gradually climbing through forests and past lakes to the more exposed higher altitudes.  Initially, I had thoughts of running all of the way to Milford Sound, 45km away, but as the jelly beans ran out and the morning's toil up Dore Pass caught up with me, this seemed less likely.  As it turned out, the Homer Tunnel - 1.2km long, unlit and narrow - halted my progress after about 30km around 4pm.  It seemed too dangerous to transit on foot, so I stopped and found a place where I could sit and see every vehicle exiting the tunnel.  I could not afford to miss my friends, and they later joked they found me lying across the road blocking all traffic when they emerged from the tunnel around 6pm.

I still haven't traversed the Milford Track or seen Milford Sound, but they're on my list!

Motivation

Clipping from The Gazette, Montreal,
Monday, May 31, 1982.

The last couple of weeks have been very frustrating, as discussed in previous posts.  I seemed to be on track with my training program and hopeful of achieving the sub-3:00 marathon performance I was hoping for this coming October in Melbourne, then got injured.  It doesn't seem serious, but is slow to heal and the Melbourne Marathon looks doubtful and my motivation has been low.

One of my golfing buddies, Dave, sent me an email on Friday suggesting I think about going for the greatest spans between marathon wins, as perhaps an easier option.  He included a clipping about American, Benji Durden, having won the Nutmeg Marathon in Connecticut (3:56) in May of this year, 36 years after his first marathon win, the longest span on record.  Dave's aware of my quest for another sub-3:00 marathon and was suggesting that perhaps Benji's new record might be more feasible (given his winning time).  I actually met Benji, a much better-performed marathon runner than me, at the 1982 Montreal International Marathon where I was part of an Australian team.  He won in 2:13, whilst I was 46th in 2:29!  It was interesting to get Dave's email and learn that I might finally be able to beat Benji, 31 years later.  I never actually won that many marathons (plenty of 2nds, for some reason), and the first was in 1979, so Benji's record looks safe.



Finishing the 1982 Montreal International
(46th, 2:29....not one of my better runs!)

However, on researching Benji's performances, I came across the Association of Road Racing Statisticians website which provides a wealth of information about road racing.  After some further searching, I found their Marathon Trivia section and then a page titled Longest Time Spans Between First and Last Sub-X Marathons.  With that, I found my motivation to get fit and pursue my sub-3:00!
The current best is 39 years, with another 11 runners with 34 years or better.  If I did manage to run a sub-3:00 marathon in the next year, my span would be 43 years, well ahead of the pack, and the kind of challenge that really gets me out of bed in the morning.

On a more sobering note, I walked a little over 2km this morning and could still feel that things aren't quite right in my troublesome arch.  However, there was no real pain and I will repeat the exercise tomorrow.

In search of information

Despite not planning to run, or even walk very much, I rose very early and joined the throng building on the Terrigal waterfront at 5:30am for the 6:00am Trotters' run.  It was cold and I was wearing jeans and multiple layers, making it obvious to everybody that I wasn't going to be running.  As usual, there was lots of animated conversation, and people were sympathetic to my plight.  At 6am, the place cleared and I plugged in my earphones and wandered off for a gentle stroll along the waterfront and through the shopping precinct listening to the latest audio version of The Economist (published Friday nights), while the sun gradually coloured the eastern sky and silhouetted the fishing boats heading out to sea.  I really really wanted to go for a run, but there's just enough sensitivity in my right arch to convince me that there still may be a problem and running could potentially set me back.



Comparison of planned and actual marathon training outcomes

Later in the day, as I despaired of my chances of running strongly again within a few months, I devoted some time to analysing how much training I had done compared to plan, and how my marathon preparations had gone in a previous era.

Most of my working life was spent managing and analysing data and information, and I have a passion for numbers.  So, it's not surprising that I have diaries for fifteen of my prime running years in which I planned and analysed my training from many aspects.  One of my base measures was the seven-day running mileage total and I took a look at the twenty weeks leading up to my best marathon time in 1979, and compared it to the twenty weeks leading up to this year's Melbourne Marathon.

Not surprisingly, when in full training, I was averaging more than twice the mileage.  However, perhaps the most valuable information was that in the lead-up to that race in 1979 I lost significant training time to a quadriceps tear and a serious bout of tonsillitis, and had a few very poor race performances along the way.

The lesson for me is not to lose faith in my ability as I encounter obstacles, lose training time, or perform badly.  I have often said that potential is defined by your best performances (and training), not your worst.

Commuting

I had a few chores to do in the area today, and after dropping my car off for a service, was walking to the bus station when I saw a runner with a familiar style approaching me.  It was Terrigal Trotters club-mate, Kev, on his way to work.  Coincidentally, last night when I was driving into the Thursday evening track session, I saw him running home from work.



Melbourne's Tan Track

If you can manage it, this is the best way for someone with a full-time job and other commitments, to fit in their training.  Of course, you generally need to have a shower at work, although one of my more notorious former club-mates, another Kev, was famous for running to work and then just applying talcum powder to selected spots, before putting on his working clothes.  He was in sales!

You also generally need to live close enough to run both ways, although some other former club-mates ran part of the way and then caught a train for the rest, often climbing into packed commuter carriages sweating profusely in their running gear.

Some of my favourite running memories are of running to and from work when I was a serious athlete.  Whilst living in London in the mid-1970s, I frequently ran to or from work (and occasionally both ways), a distance of about 10 miles.  My route took me from south-east London through Brixton, which in those days was a bit of a ghetto, then across the Thames past Victoria Station and the back of Buckingham Palace before a last glorious section through Hyde Park to my workplace near Bond Street.  Forty years later, I still have vivid memories of that regular run.



Melbourne's Yarra Bike Path

Later, I ran to and from work for many years in Melbourne, and was lucky enough to have regular routes that followed the Yarra River, crossed inner-city parklands, circumnavigated the famous Tan track, and passed by the iconic Melbourne Cricket Ground.  I well remember bounding past and through queues of jammed commuting cars, getting the occasional wave or toot from someone I knew (most memorably a few times from my hero, Ron Clarke).  For a number of those years I frequently met up with another club-mate, Geoff, for part of the journey home and I know we still both savour the memory of those days.  We were in our athletic prime, and used to "fly" home along the Yarra bike track on balmy evenings, finished with the day's work, discussing running, world affairs and our plans for the weekend.  It was a great way to fit training into our busy lives.  (Incidentally, Geoff nearly missed the birth of his only child when he forgot the time and how far it was back to the hospital on the critical evening.)

Training-wise, out of necessity, I did more walking today than for the past few.  My right arch is sensitive, but I wouldn't call it painful.  Still a few more quiet days to go before I resume any running.  It's very frustrating.

Downtime

Another quiet day on the exercise front.  I didn't even go for a walk after the morning track session at The Haven.  There are still occasional traces of pain in my right arch when I walk, but certainly not bad enough to prevent me running if I wanted too.  I just have to tell myself that these few days, and perhaps weeks, will pass quickly enough and I will be glad I didn't try and rush back too early.  That's the theory, anyway.



Three failed attempts to break the record for riding solo
and unsupported around Australia occupied injury time
(2007, 2008 and 2009).

When running plays as large a part in your life as it has in mine, the absence of running leaves a large void that is easily filled with self-pity and eating.  Back in my prime, when I was running 200+ kilometres a week, these voids were even larger and sometimes longer.  I soon learned that the best way of managing them was to fill the space with meaningful activity and see them as an opportunity.  If other activities I enjoyed were still possible, such as hiking, bike-riding or kayaking, then I would pursue those.  If I could give myself some kind of challenge, then even better.  When studying, it was a chance to complete assignments.  In a worst-case scenario, it might mean some long-delayed DIY work around the house or gardening.


I completed the 250km River Murray Red Cross
Canoe Marathon twice while unable to run (circa 1980).

This week, I have spent a lot of time on detailed planning for my next adventure (since retiring, I've tried to have at least one adventure each year).  Two options I'm considering involve hiking part, or all, of two famous long-distance trails.  One is the 3,000 kilometre Te Araroa Trail which runs the length of New Zealand and the other is the 4,200 kilometre Pacific Crest Trail which follows the crest of the Sierra Nevada and Cascade mountain ranges from Mexico to Canada in the western US .  Both are on my "bucket list".  However, before committing I want to have a good idea of the terrain, gear I will need, the distance between resupply options, likely weather, best timing, and so on.  I enjoy the research, and it gives me something positive to think about, and anticipate, at a time when frustrated by my inability to run.

Another running anecdote

No training to report for today.  Instead, a day spent trying to detect pain in my arch whenever I walked around.  There's barely anything to note, but I'll stick with the plan to leave it for another few days before walking any distance.

I thought I would share another old running anecdote.  Below is an article I wrote that appeared in the June 1986 Victorian Marathon Club Newsletter about an event I had run while travelling in the US.

_____________________________________________________________

ST VALENTINE'S DAY DEBACLE

After an hour's drive in gale-force winds and heavy showers we arrived at the apartment in Sunset, the suburb next to Golden Gate Park, where Australian friends Martin and Veronica were staying, and then we all journeyed by tram into downtown San Francisco.  We arrived at the Hyatt Regency hotel on the Embarcadero 45 minutes before the scheduled 6:00pm race start and entered (with the exception of Veronica) for the St Valentine's Day Striders Fun Run.




Out for a jog in San Francisco more recently.

We were looking forward to competing on the four mile heart-shaped course through the downtown area - particularly Martin who had recently performed well as a guest in the Canadian World Cross Country Trial (where he distinguished himself by running the last half with his gloves stuffed down the front of his jocks, after deciding that frostbitten hands were preferable to risking the family lineage) - but wondered how the organisers were going to police the course.  Not only was it Friday night peak hour, but also the start of a long weekend and it was going to be dark.

In the Race Director’s preamble he informed us that this was a “stride”, not a “race”, and those running too fast would find that they beat the marshals to the corners (of which there were fourteen) – sigh!  Our sentiments were obviously shared by other “runners” among the 100 entries, who included Laurie Binder, former winner of Sydney’s City to Surf, but not by other “striders” who included people dressed in street clothes and even in oilskins.




The crowded streets of downtown San Francisco where the
1986 St Valentines Day Run was held
(I can't remember the route).

The route was complicated so the three of us each grabbed a map to carry.  The course began by crossing the busy six-lane Embarcadero.  A couple of officials (they were the last I saw for a long time) pushed the pedestrian crossing button, dashed out into the road waving at the traffic to stop, and signalled the starter to begin the race.  Miraculously, nobody died at this first obstacle, but the traffic had another excellent opportunity as the participants strung out along the gloomy main road running with their backs to the oncoming cars.  Martin was fortunate (and fit) and found himself sharing the lead with two runners who knew where they were going.  I was less fortunate (and less fit), and being 100 metres off the pace, lost sight of them in the dark and finally had to slow at an intersection to wait for the following bunch.  When they arrived, I discovered they knew as much as me, but were less well-equipped – no maps.  From that point, I was the “Pied Piper”, leading with my map, and shouting “Right on Powell”, “Left on Taylor”, etc., as we dashed across intersections and roads, dodging cars and cable-cars – it was becoming good fun.

Many runners got lost or cut the course short.  Barb saw one runner miss a turn and continue towards the Pacific.  The organisers kindly included some of San Francisco’s steepest hills as well as a flight of over 100 steps and the race finished down the precipitous California Street, with cross-roads every 100 metres – no sprint finishes.  Martin, Barb and I all found ourselves just running in with whoever we happened to be with at the time.  The Finish was “low key” to say the least.  We turned the corner into Justin Herman Plaza, saw an official standing there all on his own, asked him where the finish line was, and were informed we had just crossed it.

Later, some refreshments were provided and a draw held for some nice prizes.  A unique and amusing experience was capped for the evening when I won a bottle of champagne and two fine crystal glasses.

Three days lost

Training for a marathon has seemed a distant fantasy for the past three days.



Crossing the line in the 1982 Boston Marathon
(49th in 2:22:39)

I woke early on Sunday morning with a severe headache followed by bouts of vomiting and dry retching and twelve hours later, at Sharon's insistence, was in the local hospital's Emergency Department on a drip having various tests and a brain scan.  The tests failed to show anything untoward and they eventually sent me home with instructions to return if there was no improvement.  I spent the next 36 hours in bed sleeping and dozing.  My headache gradually abated as my ability to keep down fluids and food gradually returned.  There was no thought of any exercise.

Today, although still feeling a bit spaced out, I have returned to the world of the living and am eating and drinking normally.  I'm hoping my ailment was just some kind of 48-hour bug I picked up, though the hospital tests didn't identify any viruses.  I decided not to exercise today either, and will now have missed three complete days.  The downtime seems to have been the catalyst for a more realistic assessment of my marathon training plan.  There was still some specific pain in my right arch when I got up this morning and I have decided I would be smarter to continue resting it than to resume jogging this week as intended.



Showing off my Boston Marathon medal after
the post-race presentation (it is engraved
Top 10, though awarded to each of the top
50 in recognition of the growth in numbers).

I know I am vacillating on the rehabilitation plan, but I am starting to recognise that there's less than 14 weeks to the Melbourne Marathon and my chances of a sub-3 are diminishing with each day that passes when I cannot train properly.  The pressure to resume training too quickly comes from the approaching Melbourne Marathon deadline and the reality is that Melbourne race is not the only race around.  Although I'm getting older as every day passes, there's no real reason why I should run slower in, say, January 2014, than in October 2013.  It's more a function of the length of the injury-free training lead up, than of age.

So, for now, I'm not even going to walk any distance until I feel the right arch is better.  If I'm lucky enough to be running pain-free by the end of next week, then I'm still a chance to be fit enough to run well in Melbourne.  If not, I'll just have to postpone my ambition for a couple of months and hope I get a better training lead-up.