Every now and then

Some of the Terrigal Trotters team on the way to the
Woodford to Glenbrook 25km Trail Race.

It is nine months since my last Woodford to Glenbrook 25km trail run (it was postponed three months last year because of flooding), and my life during those nine months has been quite eventful, particularly on the health front.  Five months ago, when dealing with the Deep Vein Thrombosis, Pulmonary Embolism and Atrial Flutter, I was telling myself that if I could just run again, even a few kilometres a week, I would be happy.  I did not give myself any chance of running Woodford to Glenbrook this year, so was very happy to not only be on the starting line yesterday, but feeling well enough to race.

My right Achilles tendon and heel remain very painful, but otherwise I have been feeling fit, so I was keen to see what I could do without any great pre-race expectations.  Last year I ran 2:01 and was second in the 60+ age group.  I hoped to go sub-2:00 this year and win the 60+.

It was a cold morning in the Blue Mountains with an icy wind, but the sun was shining and once we started running the cold didn't seem so bad.  I started steadily with the goal of running within myself for the first 10 kilometres, and that approach worked well, though left me weaving through many of the 380-strong field on the rocky undulating fire trail.  I didn't push it up the hills, trying to keep my breathing regular, but still sensitive to a pressure I could feel in the centre of my chest as my heart rate rose.  This pressure may always have been there, but would have been unnoticed a year ago.  A little worrying nevertheless.

A whale wallowed just off Copa beach during my
slow recovery walk this morning.

Even running within myself, I was gaining a few places on the climbs, but was doing even better on the flats and steep technical downhills.  As last year, I really enjoyed letting myself go down the hills, trusting myself to react quickly enough on the loose rocky track as I slalomed through slower runners.  It made me feel young again, though in a concession to my health issues, I was wearing a medical wristband alerting any paramedics to the Warfarin (blood thinner) I was taking.  Cuts would bleed profusely and a bad head knock could risk a brain haemmorhage.

The last 10 kilometres of the race was on a gradual downhill section that seemed never-ending.  By this time, my bad Achilles was very painful and I fought to maintain an even stride though every step hurt badly.  I still managed to catch a few more people, though lost a couple of places in the last few hundred metres on the race to the finish line.

I was surprised and pleased to see my time of 1:52, and later to find I had won the 60+ age group by 20 minutes.  A very satisfying day, though walking today has been very painful on my sore heel.  I see a specialist this week to review my blood clot issues and hopefully get off the Warfarin.  I'm not getting my hopes up.

A year on

Still moving well at the 12km mark.

This time a year ago, I ran the Macleay River Marathon after just two weeks training following three weeks of hiking.  I was pleased and surprised to finish in 3:24, a good kick-off in my campaign to run a sub-3 hour marathon four months later.  What a difference a year makes.

On Sunday, with not a lot of confidence, I fronted up for my second Macleay River Marathon.  This time, a sub-3 hour marathon was not on the horizon.  It was more about proving to myself that life had returned to normal after the DVT, Pulmonary Embolism and Atrial Flutter episodes of six months ago.  I was confident I had done enough training to complete a marathon, but wasn't sure how fast.  In the back of my mind was a faint hope that I would run faster than last year, but a bruised and painful heel, probably associated with my chronic right Achilles tendon injury, sobered my expectations.  I kept telling myself that finishing with some kind of dignity would be sufficient.

Not quite so smooth at 25km.

I try to resist last-minute changes to pre-race preparations, but a couple of days before the marathon I decided that my heel was bothering me sufficiently to warrant wearing more cushioned shoes - my Hokas - that I hadn't raced in before.  Not ideal, but I told myself I would regret it if my heel became very painful early in the race.  In retrospect, it's hard to know whether this was the right decision.  The race went more or less according to plan until half-way, although I never felt I was running smoothly.  I didn't watch the clock and I didn't start too fast.  Instead, I was near the back early and then gradually worked my way through the field as I warmed up.  By half-way I had caught all of the runners who I felt should finish behind me.  Competitive arrogance can be hard to restrain.

Happy to finish.

However, during the third 10km of the race, as I started to get tired, I had trouble maintaining a good rhythm.  It seemed the cushioned shoes were not sufficiently stable as my muscle fatigue grew, and worryingly, I even found it hard to maintain a straight line.  My heel was also becoming very painful.  Around 30km, I realised I needed to slow down if I was to still be running at the finish.

I plodded along, probably more than a minute per kilometre slower than I had been running, wondering how many people would catch me before the end.  I was particularly worried about Ray, a fellow 60+ runner and tough competitor, and clubmates Jacqui and Greg.  I had passed all three in the second 10km of the race.

Ray came past with nine kilometres to go, running strongly, and gave me a pat on the back, but despite my fears and my slow pace, Jacqui and Greg didn't catch me and I was pleasantly surprised to cross the line in 3:39.  Not as fast as I had hoped, but not as bad as I feared during those laborious and painful last ten kilometres.

Since the race, my heel has been very sore, and I lay in bed last night, kept awake by the pain, contemplating surgery.  I'll leave it another couple of months, but I think something will need to be done.

Lantau Island

Lantau Island.

Another place I would like to run again is Lantau Island in Hong Kong.  Although I worked in Hong Kong for a few months in the late 1990s, and travelled there for business on many other occasions, I regretfully failed to explore Lantau Island and the New Territories as running venues.  It wasn't possible to go there on working weekdays, and I always seemed to be working on the weekends as well.

It wasn't until Sharon and I visited there in 2008 that I ran any of the Lantau Island trails.  We made it part of a long day trip from Hong Kong Island where we were staying.  Firstly, we took the train to Tung Chung on Lantau Island, adjacent to the impressive Hong Kong Airport, and then rode the spectacular cable car up to the Po Lin Monastery and the Big Buddha (Tian Tan Buddha).  The Monastery complex, including the Buddha, lies on the shoulder of Lantau Peak (934m) and we spent a few hours looking around and having a light lunch in the Monastery refectory before setting out on our run.

The Big Buddha with Lantau Peak in the background.

The planned route followed hiking trails over Lantau Peak and then across the southern side of the island to the Mui Wo Ferry Terminal.  There were a lot of steps on the trail up to the Peak and in places it felt quite precarious, but the views were superb in all directions.  The descent from the Peak was positively scary in places, but we took it slowly and had no problems. After crossing the Tung Chung Road, which bisects the island, we followed the easier South Lantau County Trail, with occasional technical sections, and some landslide damage, to meet another road that led us down to our destination at Mui Wo.

Mui Wo and Silver Mine Bay.
(©Photo by Paul Chen)

We then enjoyed a very pleasant sunset ferry ride back to Hong Kong Island and our hotel, having had an excellent day.  It wasn't a long run, but it gave me a taste the delights of Lantau Island trails and it's another place on my bucket list.

For my training today, I ran a slow 10km, still feeling lethargic from Monday's long run, and perhaps from some strenuous yard work yesterday afternoon.  For some reason, I seemed to be more conscious of my heartbeat yesterday and this morning, but try as I might, I can't detect anything other than the usual slow regular pulse.  Probably just my imagination, but it shows the anxiety about a reversion to the Atrial Flutter persists.

Thinking the unthinkable

Katandra Reserve this morning.

After dropping my car off for a service in North Gosford this morning, I ran an easy 20km home via a route that maximised trail and minimised suburbia.  It was another beautiful morning for a run - mild and sunny with wisps of fog in some valleys.  Despite residual fatigue from Sunday's 37km road run, my legs are feeling stronger and I spent much of today's run pondering my running objectives for the next six months.

Clyde Road, this morning.

Incredibly, I'm getting to the point where the sub-3 hour marathon goal is again entering the fringes of my thinking.  I can't quite believe I'm even contemplating it, but assuming my heart problem at Christmas was just a blip, resolved by the Cardioversion, then why is a sub-3 less likely this year than last.  I fully accept it's a remote possibility, but it makes no sense to rule it out.  But maybe a change of approach is needed.  Since resuming running eleven weeks ago, I have been remarkably (for me) sensible in my training.  I haven't aggressively ramped up my mileage, I took a few days off for a minor injury, and I have mostly avoided back-to-back quality (fast or long) training days.  Although it has taken a bit longer than in the past, there has been steady improvement in my speed and endurance and that seems set to continue.

View from Clyde Road this morning.

My new thinking is that I should avoid focussing single-mindedly on the sub-3 hour goal.  Last year, I was trying to run as many kilometres a week as my ageing body could handle, and feeling pressure to improve my base speed.  However, when I look at how I'm running at the moment, and what training I was doing when at my best early last year, I was pretty much running for enjoyment, without sweating on kilometres or speed.

Kincumba Mt this morning.

Although a sub-3 hour marathon is not easy, there were times in my life when I could do it comfortably.  Maybe I need to fine-tune my approach to have fewer quality sessions (fast or long) and run those sessions fresher.  Maybe I also need to avoid targeting a particular marathon and, instead, when I think I'm ready, find one.

It seems to be worth trying, though it runs counter to the approach adopted most of my serious running career.  Counter-intuitively, it may require more self discipline for me than the high-mileage run-regardless regime of the past.

Fitter...and more anxious

I recently found this old picture of
me running a length of the original
stadium at Olympia in Greece in 1975.

This week, I have really noticed an improvement in my fitness level and the proof was this morning's relatively strong run on the Terrigal Trotters "Pony Club Run" course.  I'm still not running with the leading bunch, but they were within sight for much of the first half of the 14km course and I felt I was moving comfortably at a faster pace for most of the run.

I should be feeling fitter.  I have run most days for the last eleven weeks and have averaged 100 kilometres a week for the past month, so it's nice to know that I'm getting a benefit.  However, with the fitness, and returning competitiveness, comes some anxiety.  Almost certainly, I have recovered full lung function after the Pulmonary Embolism four months ago.  And, my heart continues to beat regularly and strongly following the DC Cardioversion back in February to correct my debilitating Atrial Flutter.  But, constantly in my mind, is the worry that my heart will revert, maybe as a result of running hard.  When writing last night's blog, I mentioned a famous and extremely talented English ultra-distance runner, Cavin Woodward.  In 1975 he set a new world record for 100 Miles of 11hrs 38mins 54secs and en route also became the holder of World Best times for 50miles, 100km and 150km!  When I Googled him, I was saddened to see that he died in 2010 of a heart attack at age 62!  Then this morning, a friend was relating the story of an athlete competing in last weekend's Port Macquarie Ironman not long after he had been treated for a heart problem.  He finished the triathlon but was complaining of chest tightness.  He's only in his mid-30s.

On the hills in this morning's run, I could also feel some tightness in my chest at the base of my sternum.  I have been aware of it over the past month when running hard, but have not discerned any related problems.  Did I always have this tightness, but never paid attention in the past?  Is it breathing- rather than heart-related?  It feels more like an airway constriction.  I guess time will tell.  For the moment, it's a very satisfying feeling to be getting faster and I'm enjoying my running in a way I thought would never be possible again four months ago.

Road running

An early part of today's run was along
Cullens Road which I enjoy so long as
traffic is light.

I'm getting fitter following my heart/lung problems at the end of last year and am continuing to contemplate running the Macleay River Marathon in four weeks time, just to see how I go.  One argument against running is that my legs still need some toughening up if I'm not to disgrace myself.

Although I enjoy running on trail more than road, my experience has been that if you want to race long distances on the road, you need to train over long distances on the road.  It is the hours of repetitive pounding on the road, with every step exactly replicating the preceding step's effect on the musculo-skeletal system, that builds the fitness necessary to cope with a marathon.  After training for long distances on the road, I have always been able to feel the growing strength in my legs, particularly the quadriceps.  Almost suddenly, I will feel stronger, fitter and faster, after a few long road runs.

Ward's Hill is steeper than it looks.

I know I need a couple of long road runs under my belt before tackling a marathon.  For my training today, I ran one of my favourite 21km courses from my home in Copa.  It has some long road stretches, some busy and some quiet, along with a few hills, including one really nasty one around halfway.  I felt good early, maybe the best this year, and was averaging 5 mins/km for the flat sections, but I could feel my legs getting very tired by the time I summited Ward's Hill.  By working harder, I maintained my momentum, but struggled on the last hill with three kilometres to go.

I finished comfortably, but am convinced I need to get in a couple of long road runs in the next two to three weeks if I want to reach an acceptable level of fitness for the marathon.  I haven't entered yet.

Annual gardening

The fire-trail through Wambina
Nature Reserve.

Those who know me, or have seen my house, know that gardening is not one of my passions.  There is, however, an annual piece of gardening that I don't mind doing - clearing and marking the trail for the Terrigal Trotters "Fiji Run" which is scheduled for tomorrow.

I originally suggested the course to capitalise on two little-used trails in the Terrigal area that are not part of our other runs.  The first trail section is short and passes through a grove of palm trees, hence the name "Fiji", and the second, longer, section climbs through Wambina Nature Reserve to a forested ridge which it then follows to its end before descending back to the suburbs.

I first encountered the ridge when some friends took me mountain-biking up that way eight or nine years ago, and have since observed the trail gradually deteriorate through lack of use and rampant lantana growth.  For the last three of four years, since the "Fiji Run" has been on the Trotters agenda, I have been in the habit of spending some time in the preceding week clearing and marking the trail.

Overgrown trail.

Yesterday, after going for my usual Thursday 11km morning run, I grabbed some breakfast in Terrigal and drove to the little-visited Wambina Nature Reserve.  I savoured the climb to the ridge through quiet forest along the leaf-covered firetrail.  It's always a wonder to me how you can find such lovely and peaceful pockets of undisturbed nature amidst the hubbub of the Central Coast.  Most area residents would have no idea it was even there.  After a few kilometres, and having negotiated a couple of locked gates, I reached the narrow foot-trail section and donned my gardening gloves and pulled out my long-shaft clippers.

For the next three hours I walked along the trail, hacking at the lantana and other over-hanging vegetation to make the trail more runnable.  In one short section, the trail had virtually disappeared into a huge lantana thicket and I spent nearly an hour hacking and bashing a usable trail.  When I finally reached the far end of the ridge, I turned and made my way back to the start, hanging flouro pink flagging tape from trees where the trail was more obscure.

Cleared trail.

Knowing it had rained recently, I wisely wore my high profile hiking boots for the expedition, but still scored a couple of leech bites on my calf which are itching as I write.  I was lucky to only have two, since I removed about ten leeches from my boots and thick socks when I returned to my car.  On the way home I needed to visit the supermarket, and padded along the aisles with blood dripping down my calf, hoping I wouldn't get ejected.  Being on Warfarin, leech bites coagulate even more slowly.

It takes a large part of the day to clear the trail, but I see it as a community service.  The local council doesn't seem to have any interest in keeping the trail open and I fear it will disappear without some attention.  I also enjoy taking my club-mates to places they may not know about, or normally wouldn't go.

This morning, I was quite stiff in the back from yesterday's exertions, but otherwise OK, and jogged a very slow early 5km before playing nine holes of golf.

Human encounters

Brixton.

There are a number of posts in this blog about alarming and interesting encounters I have had with animals while out running, but only a few about human encounters.  Before going any further, however, I have to acknowledge that male runners face far fewer human threats than female runners. A number of females I know personally have been harassed and chased by men when out running, and we have all read stories about women runners assaulted and even killed.  I have always felt fortunate to be able to run almost anywhere I like without fearing human interference, and those few bad encounters I have had don't amount to much.

A few scary incidents have already been mentioned in this blog including being stopped by abusive Russian police while out running near Smolensk (see ‘No Visa’), being chased by two guys in a car and on foot while leading a half marathon (see ‘Unexpected Hazards’), and being followed by a guy whose car I had banged when he cut me off at a corner (see ‘A road rage story’).

Bucharest, Romania.

In the London suburb of Brixton, I sometimes felt quite intimidated by milling groups of black youths blocking the footpath during my evening running commute in the mid-1970s.  They never showed any inclination to move aside as I approached, and I always had to slow down and gently work my way through the group.  One time I received a good-natured whack across the butt with a cricket bat as I passed, but that was the worst that ever happened.

On another occasion in the mid-1970s, I was returning to our campsite from an evening run through the suburbs of Bucharest in Romania, when I met a group of loud young men and women walking towards me, line abreast, along a path.  They showed no sign of letting me pass.  I moved to the very left-hand side, where there just room to squeeze through, but as I passed one of the guys pushed the girl on the end of the line into my path.  I just had time to drop my shoulder to absorb the impact and knocked the girl heavily to the ground.  Pandemonium broke out and I didn't hang around to see if the girl was OK, instead accelerating off into the gloom.

Swan Street Bridge, Melbourne.

The only other physical encounter I can recall occurred when running across Swan Street Bridge in Melbourne one warm summer evening.  As I passed an intoxicated young guy coming the other way, he suddenly and unexpectedly swung his fist hard into my stomach.  Although briefly winded, I recovered and angrily approached him demanding to know why he had hit me.  Putting his bag down, he struck a defensive pose.  Rather than fight, I quickly grabbed his bag and ran further across the bridge.  A small crowd gathered as I hung the bag over the railing, threatening to drop it into the Yarra River below.  In the end, I cooled down, threw his bag back to him, and continued my run.

I have heard of runners being hit by objects thrown from cars, but that has never happened to me, although I did once cop a milkshake while out riding my bike.

Elwood coastline with Melbourne skyline
in the background.

Perhaps the most interesting human encounter I ever had was in the early 1980s during my regular Wednesday evening 20 mile run which incorporated a long stretch on paths along the coast of Port Phillip Bay in Melbourne’s inner suburbs.  One very warm summer evening, on a more remote stretch of the path in Elwood, two young women were walking towards me along the path wearing towelling robes, apparently having been swimming or sunbathing.  I saw them exchange words and then just before I reached them, they said ‘Ta Dah!’ and both flung open their robes to reveal nothing was being worn underneath.  I must have looked shocked (and I was), and heard them laughing loudly behind me as I continued on my way.

I ran a slow and lethargic 15km this morning on the roads with a few hills.  My legs still felt heavy and stiff from Sunday's long run, although I was moving more freely by the end.  When breathing harder on the hills, I'm still occasionally getting a feeling of pressure in my chest at the base of the sternum, but there's no other evidence of a problem and I'm inclined to pass it off as just the result of breathing harder.  My resting pulse rate is now back below 40, where it was before I had the heart and lung problems late last year.

How much is too much?

Waiting for me the first time on the Bush Bash.

Any rational analysis would suggest running 47km on trails yesterday would be tough for me.  I've only been back running for two months after two months off while I was treated for some heart and lung problems, and on Saturday, I ran our club's 10km race in 44:01, 3:30 faster than on the same course a month ago.  I hoped, rather than expected, that the 10km hadn't taken too much out of me and that by walking the steeper hills I would cope with the 47km Brisbane Water Bush Bash.

One of the smaller hills on the Bush Bash.

A week or so ago, Terrigal Trotters was contacted by the producers of a television program, Search4Hurt, to ask whether we would take one of their rookie ultra trail runners on a 40-50km run to gauge his preparation for The North Face 100km in three weeks time.  I suggested the Bush Bash because it was easily accessible in a number of places to film progress, and enlisted some friends from the club to accompany him.  As a point of pride, I wanted to do the run as well, perhaps hoping that the rookie wouldn't be that fit and I could hang on.

Misty views over Brisbane Water.

The run started with a brief on-camera interview about Terrigal Trotters and then we were off on a drizzly, misty and overcast morning for the first bike path section.  Sadly, my quads were very heavy from Saturday's run and my early pace was slow.  The leaders, including the rookie, disappeared into the distance.  I caught them at the first fire-trail junction, 8km into the run, but only because they were waiting.  Thereafter, I managed to stay in touch with the group, partly because I was moving a little better, and partly because my colleagues occasionally waited a short while for me to catch up.

The course is a real mix of terrain.  There are scenic, but boring and hard-on-the-legs, flat bike path sections, and some short road sections, but most of the course follows fire-trails along the mountain crests surrounding Brisbane Water, including very steep ascents and descents.  The intermittent rain combined with low cloud and mist made for some great scenery and atmospheric forest.  There's nothing quite like the eucalypt forests in rain and some of the views, with forested ridges interleaved with low cloud, were breathtaking.

One of the steep descents on the
Bush Bash.

The company was good, but I gave up on trying to keep up with the bunch after 26km and drifted back to run on my own.  I suddenly felt very fatigued and slowed to a plod, wondering how I was going to manage another 20km.  Fortunately, the rookie, who had found $70 on one of the trails, bought us all a drink at the South Kincumber store (they waited for me again!), and the Coke revived me a little.  I told them not to wait for me any more, and they quickly disappeared on the steep climb up Kincumba Mountain.

One of the bike path sections on the
Bush Bash.

I expected to be on my own for the last 15km, but instead developed a symbiotic relationship with Kirrily, who had not run the course before.  I tried in vain to keep up with her, causing me to run more than I would have otherwise, and she had to keep stopping at junctions, unsure of the way, to wait for me to catch up.  This worked well until the final descent, with just 2km to go, when I started to lose my equilibrium and couldn't do more than walk most of the time, taking great care on the steep descents and stairways not to fall, and cursing the unreliability of my muscles.  There was a background concern in my mind that my problems were heart-related, but it was beating regularly, and my blood pressure seemed OK.  Kirrily was concerned, but I was still thinking clearly and was confident I could finish.  I told her to go on ahead.

Another steep descent on the
Bush Bash.

I finished safely in six hours, about an hour slower than my best, and even managed to jog the last few hundred metres.  The TV guys, who wanted to go home, asked for another short interview with the rookie and me.  I was a little worried I would fall over, and hoped I was making sense.  Towards the end, I noticed Kirrily gesturing towards my feet in the background and looked down to find my shoes seething with multiple leeches looking for a feed.  The cameraman got a last close-up of the predators before I adjourned to a wet park bench and began trying to pick them off.  It took some time, but I was lucky and none drew blood.

The run definitely tested my current fitness limits, but it was satisfying to finish with all body parts, except for my very painful right Achilles tendon, in working order.  It will take me a few days to get over it, and I tossed and turned in bed with aching feet and legs last night, but when I do I will be stronger for the effort.  For today, I just walked an easy 5km.

Quandary

The Terrigal Trotters crew at last year's
Macleay River Marathon.

It wasn't a big deal, but it's always good when a plan comes together.

For most of the past week I have felt stiff, sore and lethargic.  My right Achilles tendon has been particularly painful.  I have been paying the price for last Saturday's harder run, particularly the fast downhill technical sections, and Monday's 25km trail run.  Knowing I wanted to run the ANZAC Day run yesterday, the 10km Handicap today, and the 47km Bus Bash tomorrow, I decided after Monday to maintain my regular running routine this week, but to avoid pushing the pace, to run on roads and to tie my shoes more loosely.

Even surfaces and straight line running impose less strain on the Achilles, as does a slightly looser shoe, and the no pressure running was designed to address the lethargy and stiffness.  Even yesterday, I didn't feel that good, though there were some glimmers of better form near the end of the run.  But today, from the moment I started my warm-up, I felt looser and fresher, and my Achilles was the best it's been for five days.

Getting my timing chip removed after
last year's Macleay River Marathon.

Four weeks ago, on the same course as for today's 10km run, my time was 47:36.  My allocated handicap time today, based on performances last year before my heart and lung problems, was 44:00.  This ruled out any chance of a podium finish, which was a good thing. It eased what would otherwise have been self-imposed pressure to run as hard as I could.  Instead, I started the run believing that any time between 44 and 47 minutes would be good and was very happy to finish right on 44:00 after a slow start.  The plan had come together, though I still have to survive tomorrow's 47km Bush Bash.

After the run, a friend was talking about the Macleay River Marathon which is on in six weeks time.  Last year, fresh from three weeks of hiking, I ran quite well for 3:24 without getting serious about the race.  I can hardly believe it, but I'm entertaining the idea of running it again.  Three months ago, I was wondering whether I would ever run again.  Am I being stupid?  Today's race, not taken seriously, resulted in a reasonable time for my age.  With a few more miles, and a few less kilograms, it's reasonable to think I could knock a few more minutes off the 10km time and run a comparable marathon time to last year.  But am I pushing too hard?  I don't feel like it, my heartbeat has stayed regular, and I am healthy.  Perhaps I should just treat the Atrial Flutter episode as a bad memory and get on with my running life.

Fatty acid catalyst?

The usual source of caffeine.

I'm successfully sticking to the caffeine limit I imposed on myself of 200mg or less a day (see blog post titled "Caffeine") after being diagnosed with an Atrial Flutter at the beginning of the year.  I do miss the "feel good" surge I used to get from that strong mug of coffee on days with an early start, but I don't miss the feeling that my blood pressure and heart rate were up.  Generally, I feel healthier without that caffeine and don't think I'll ever go back.

At the time of the blog post about caffeine, I mentioned that it is a legal stimulant that may have benefits for long-distance runners.  Apart from the value of heightened alertness and positive mood, there is evidence it plays a role in energy derivation.  I don't know when the research was first published, but sometime in the 1970s I read about the value of caffeine in releasing fatty acids into the blood stream.  In simplistic terms, as I understand it, during any long distance race, the body primarily derives its fuel from its glycogen stores.  This is the most efficient source of energy but supplies are finite and likely to be exhausted before the end of a marathon.  When the glycogen stores are gone, the body begins to burn fats, a much slower process.

The fatty acids stimulated by caffeine ingestion have been shown to bring fats into the energy fuel process earlier than otherwise, so that a marathon runner's stores of the more efficient glycogen will last longer, perhaps to fuel a late surge in the race.  I read somewhere that two strong cups of coffee about an hour before running was the best timing and dosage and I did try that a number of times during my marathon running heyday.  Of course you never know whether it makes any difference, and the risk is that when you can't do it for some reason (perhaps large race logistics) it can negatively impact your mental state.

I may be smiling, but I was very sick
after this Six Foot Track Marathon.

In recent years, I haven't worried about pre-race caffeine ingestion.  One reason is the negative experience I had in the Six Foot Track Marathon a few years ago, when I was fit enough to do very well for my age.  I drank too much caffeine beforehand and was feeling "wired" by the time the race started.  I never felt good as the race progressed and had difficulty in drinking fluids at the feeding stations.  When I finished, I felt very sick, though didn't accept offered medical assistance.  I just sat in a corner for two hours not doing anything until I felt my equilibrium begin to return and I could start sipping some fluids.

I don't doubt that there are benefits as the research has shown, but to get them, there are factors such as runner weight, usual caffeine consumption, timing, etc., that need to be accounted for in developing the optimal plan.  Now that I'm sticking to my new caffeine-limited regime, I doubt that I'll worry about taking pre-race caffeine.  In fact, I have always felt that if you train over the distances you plan to race, your body will adapt to become more efficient at fuel stores and sourcing anyway.  The more you depend on some pre-race rituals - caffeine ingestion, carbo-loading, sleep - the more likely you are to come mentally unstuck if you can't follow them as planned.

I ran a variation on my usual post-track session 11km this morning, running the length of North Avoca beach and the steep climb up Coast Road instead of the usual climb up Tramway Road.  I felt fatigued right from the start, mostly in the legs, so took it easy.  I have a demanding running schedule for the next three days, and the fresher I can be tomorrow, the better.

Leon's Run

Yass Golf Club.

No running yesterday, just the drive back to Copa from the mountains with a stop for nine holes of golf at Yass on a beautiful day on a very pleasant course.  I knew I needed time to recover from Thursday's longish trail run and have found that an easy walk of five kilometres or so (even if punctuated by some terrible golf shots) is a good way to work out some of the stiffness.

It's confronting, in my sixties, to compare how long it takes to get over a long hard run these days compared to thirty years ago.  There was always fatigue and some stiffness the next day, but these days I'm practically immobile when I first get up, walking extra carefully and slowly downstairs and limping to avoid undue stress on damaged joints.  I sometimes wonder if it's a portent of life in my eighties, if I make it that far.

Glimpses of Gosford from atop Kincumba Mountain.

On the other hand, it's gratifying and often surprising to find how much improvement comes with just a day's rest or easy walking.  The thought of running yesterday had no appeal whatsoever, while today I was keen to see whether the improved strength I felt running up hills on Thursday was real or imaginary.  Although still moving gingerly after my 4:30am rising, I had confidence based on experience that once I started running I would loosen up and feel fresher.

Part of the level fire-trail atop
Kincumba Mountain.

Today's Terrigal Trotters run was the popular 14.7km "Leon's Run" from the beach to the top of Kincumba Mountain and return on a mix of road and fire-trail.  I think it's popularity stems not only from the sense of accomplishment in running to the top of the mountain (and the ensuing exhilarating descent), but also from the contrasts it offers en route - starting from the surf-lapped beach, often in the dark, and traversing sleepy suburbia to reach the forests of the mountain in the early light.  It's a serious climb, but then you get to enjoy three kilometres of  relatively level running to the turnaround point and back along the mountain crest during which you get to say hello to your clubmates travelling in the opposite direction.  If you're having a bad day, you get to see how far they are in front and who's catching you, and if you're having a good day, you get to impress those following and see who in front might be caught.

I had a good day today, considering the past four months, despite wondering a couple of times whether I could sense undue pressure in my chest during the harder parts of the ascent.  Each time, I backed off just a little so my breathing didn't become too laboured, but suspect it was just my imagination.  I definitely ran my best since the heart and lung ailments of Christmas, though there remains plenty of room for improvement.  The tank was empty for the last few kilometres.

Henry Angel

The Hume & Hovell Track.

Today's plan was to run another interesting section of the Hume & Hovell Track, this time about 18km return southwards from Henry Angel Trackhead (named after a member of the Hume & Hovell exploration party).  Both Sharon and I were quite tired after the previous two days of trail running, so we agreed to run outwards until we had had enough and then run back.

The Hume & Hovell Track.

The first part of the trail followed a creek downstream across farmland.  The foot trail was narrow and wet with dew, but the crisp sunny morning and the autumnal colours cloaking the trees bordering the creek, made it special.  The creek had been mined for gold 150 years ago, and there were lots of signposts pointing out where channels and a tunnel had been blasted out of the rocks to create races, and other mining-related artifacts.  This added another dimension to the lovely track.

At Big Hill Lookout.

After a few kilometres, we took a small detour to a lookout on Big Hill, where the Australian Alps could be seen in the distance, before returning to the trail and descending more steeply beside the cascading creek.  At 6km we crossed the Tumbarumba Creek on a shaking steel footbridge and then began a steady and often technical climb up the side of Mount Garland through Bogandyera Nature Reserve.  The trail was often precariously narrow as it made its way up the sides of steep ravines.  A trip and fall may not have been fatal, but it would be serious, and I took great care.

Crossing Tumbarumba Creek.

In all the climb was 330m over 3.5km and mostly runnable.  I was pleased that I felt fit enough to run steadily all the way up, even if it was not fast.  It was good to feel that my cardiovascular system was coping with the demands.  Eventually I reached a high point after 9.5km, and after a brief break, headed back down, chasing Sharon who had turned back earlier.  Actually, "following" might be a better word than "chasing", because it wasn't a trail for an old bloke with dicey joints to be racing down, but I enjoyed the long descent after the sweaty climb, taking in viewpoints here and there.

I was a little worried I might run out of steam on the climb back to the start point, given how technical the trail had been, but I finished strongly feeling that I am fitter than a couple of weeks ago.  Later we played nine holes of golf on a very rough and hilly country course and the fatigue started to kick in then, but it's been a great few days of running.

Paddy's River Dam

Paddy's River Dam.

Yesterday's exercise was just nine holes of golf at Tumut, about 5km of walking the way I play, after driving south from Copa for about six hours.  It was my plan to have a couple of days off running after hurting my hip on Saturday morning, and I was happy to find it didn't trouble me at all during the golf.

On the trail in Bago State Forest.

Today's exercise was much more ambitious.  Sharon and I are staying in Batlow (famous for its apples) for most of the week and plan to do some running each day.  Today's run was intended to be 31km loop incorporating a beautiful 15km section of the Hume & Hovell Track that I hiked a year ago, but it didn't quite work out that way.

Forestry Road in Bago State Forest.

Our start point was the serene Paddy's River Dam, a mirror smooth body of water reflecting alpine forest and clear skies, and I missed the first turn we had to make, adding 1.5km to our itinerary.  However, we were unconcerned as we tackled the correct single track trail which meandered through the snow gum forest and across grassy clearings on a cool, perfectly still, morning.  It was just a magic morning and we had it all to ourselves.

On the Hume & Hovell Track.

The run went to plan most of the way until we missed a trail, which was probably overgrown, and ended up following another firetrail which seemed to go on and on, much longer than expected.  Sharon began to doubt my navigation skills, but I was confident we were headed in the right direction, even if we were on the wrong trail.  Eventually we reached an intersection with the Hume & Hovell Track, further north than intended, and calculated we had about 10km to finish, making the total distance closer to 40km.

Although my cardiovascular system seemed to be coping fine, my back and joints had had enough, and it was a slow slog back to our car, made more tolerable by the continuing superb scenery and weather.

All in all it took us nearly six hours, but we stopped a few times and walked some of the hills in the last 10km.  Time wasn't a consideration as neither of us is as fit as we would like.  We just wanted a nice long run through some superb country and we got that.  As a bonus, Sharon disturbed a small group of brumbies (wild horses) at one point, and we saw kangaroos, an emu and an echidna while driving through the forest.

Minor disappointment

Descending into Erina Valley along Worthing Road.

I'm far from fit, and suspected I would find the Terrigal Trotters run this morning hard.  The 11km course, Fragrant Gardens/Erina Valley, has some significant hills, as do most in this area.  I have felt lethargic and unfit most of this week, for no particular reason, so I ran 1.5km for a warm-up in the futile hope of generating some enthusiasm and form.

Despite the warm-up, I was still near the back of the pack as the 100 or so runners left the Terrigal Surf Club car park, and only started passing a few people when we hit the first significant hill a few kilometres later.  I felt like I was struggling, but still managed to pass a number of clubmates on the climb and picked up some momentum over the crest.  I tried not to think about how strongly I have run the Terrigal Drive hill in the last few years.  It has just the right gradient to permit fast running all the way to the top if you are in shape.

Hastings Road always presents
some challenges.

Just as I was anticipating reeling in a few more people as we descended into the Erina Valley, I rounded a corner and felt a sharp pain in my right hip and shooting pain in my right "glute".  After another 100 metres, with the pain persisting, I decided it was wise to stop and do some stretching to see if I could ease the pain.  It felt like a trapped nerve, but maybe not.

Of course, a number of friends catching me from behind while I stretched and walked expressed concern that I had a recurrence of my lung or heart problems.  I explained that, happily(?), it was just a run-of-the-mill running injury.  I resumed running, with less pain, after a couple of minutes and pretty much jogged the remainder of the course.

It doesn't feel like I have torn anything, but I will take it easy for a few days to let any inflammation settle down.  Sharon and I are spending most of next week in the foothills of the Snowy Mountains, and I have been looking forward to some nice long trail runs on parts of the Hume & Hovell Walking Track I hiked this time last year.

1982 Montreal International Marathon

Finishing the 1982 Montreal International
Marathon (46th, 2:29).

Just an easy 10km on some trails and the beach for training today.  After the comfortable 15km yesterday, I would have expected to feel better this morning, and was a little worried by how hard the early kilometres were.  In fact, I wondered whether there had been a recurrence of the heart problem, although I wasn't aware of any palpitations.  I did manage to run up one of my benchmark hills, and actually felt better after that, although my overall time for the regular Little Beach course was slow.  I'll be interested to see how I feel tomorrow morning.

Another occasion when my running didn't match my expectations was the 1982 Montreal International Marathon, although every other aspect of the event was exciting and memorable.  I wrote an article about it for the Kew Camberwell running club newsletter.
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1982 MONTREAL INTERNATIONAL MARATHON - David Byrnes

As a consequence of my 2:19 in last year's Big M Marathon, I was fortunate enough to be selected in the Australian team for the Montreal International Marathon to be held on 30 May 1982.  As this was my first Australian singlet, I was, of course, very pleased and determined to do well.  However, my chronic achilles tendon injury caused me to avoid racing for the six weeks before the race and this lack of speed-work, in combination with some medication I was taking for the injury resulted in one of my poorest performances ever - 46th place in 2:29.  It was particularly disappointing because, despite the injury, my training form was very good and I knew I was in better shape than when I ran 2:22 in the Boston Marathon some six weeks earlier.

Looking over Montreal from Mount Royal.

My performance clouded what was otherwise an enjoyable and unique experience.  The Australian team, consisting of John Stanley, Graeme Kennedy, Garry Hand and myself, arrived in Montreal six days before the event and were met by representatives of the organisers.  Of the total budget of $1.5 million for the event, $300,000 was spent on airfares to bring some one hundred athletes to the event and all were to be accorded the same star, or 'elite' status which we enjoyed.  Our hotel, the Sheraton, had only been open for six weeks and our $130 a day rooms on the 20th floor left nothing to be desired.  The race administration had taken over the whole 7th floor and provided, for the 'elite', a 'hospitality' room which contained a bottomless fridge (always full of beer, coke, yoghurt and other goodies), magazines, coffee and so on.  Another 'entertainment' room was stocked with video and other games for our amusement and a third 'dining' room had breakfast and dinner available for us all at no cost.  In addition the Province of Quebec provided six or seven hostesses and hosts to look after us.  Amongst other things, they organised sightseeing tours by bus and boat, trips to the baseball and soccer (both in the 1976 Olympic Stadium), to the races, to a rock concert and so on.  Since only two teams (the Australian men and French women's) plus a few other individuals were in Montreal for the first few days, we received almost individual attention from the organisers.  In addition, we had VIP seats and everything laid on at all these events since they were sponsored by Molson's Brewery which was also sponsoring the Marathon.

Jacques Cartier Bridge, Montreal.

Early during our stay, Serge Arsenault, the race director, called our team to a private meeting and after explaining the race details, informed us of our $30 a day living allowance and went on to list the prizes available for the race.  First place would earn $10,000 down to tenth place $500 with performance bonuses of $750 for each minute under 2:15 as well as $5,000 for the first team, $3,000 for second and $1,000 for third.  He then asked how we wanted prize money paid should we be lucky enough -in cash, by cheque, or to our national association.  In the event, the Australian team came second behind Italy in the teams race and John Stanley, our nominated manager, collected three crisp $1,000 notes (which were later deliveved to the AAU).

There is practically no dividing line between professional and amateur athletes in North America now and Benji Durden (USA), who won the race in 2:13, openly admitted that he won $35,000 in cash last year in the U.S.

Montreal Olympic Stadium.

Montreal is a predominantly French-speaking city of some 3 million people on an island in the St Lawrence River.  The dominant feature of the city is the tree-covered Mount Royal (MontReal in French) which provided good training territory only a kilometre from our hotel.  For our entire stay the weather was warm and humid which made training a sweaty affair but was otherwise very pleasant for looking around.  The day of the race was no exception and a 6:30 am news bulletin informed us that it was 20°C and rising.  During the race it was sunny and very humid with temperatures recorded at 30°C along the course.  However, it was not the temperature which affected me.  I started badly, running 16:30 for the first 5km, 17:30 for the second and 18:00 almost exactly for each 5km thereafter.  Of course by 10km I was already almost three minutes down on the leaders and spent the rest of the race wishing I was home in bed but not daring to pull out.

Because of my slow start, I don't think anyone passed me after about 10km and as the heat took its toll, my place improved rapidly - 90th at half-way, 46th at the finish - however this was no consolation at all.  My team-mates performed well with the exception of Gary Henry (who joined the team from the U.S. where he had been studying) and the results were as follows:
     16.  Graeme Kennedy - 2:19
     20.  Gary Hand - 2:20
     24.  John Stanley – 2:21
     41.  Gary Henry – 2:28
     46.  Dave Byrnes – 2:29.

The main reason we came second in the teams race was the casualty rate in the other national teams, many of whom had insufficient finishers to count.

The race, similar to our Big M Marathon, was a mass participation event. However, to make the organisation manageable only the first 12,000 entries were accepted!  The race started on the giant Jacques Cartier Bridge across the St Lawrence Seaway and ran through the suburbs out around the 1976 Olympic Village and Stadium before returning to pass through the central city area.  It then proceeded out on to two islands in the Seaway, circling the Canadian Grand Prix circuit, and passing through the World Expo site to the finish.  Unfortunately there was little crowd support over the last 10 kilometres (where it was most needed) in contrast to the first 30 where the route was lined with people.  Although, it must be said, that unless you were recognised as a 'Quebecois' (from the province of Quebec), runner the support was somewhat muted.

The evening of the race there was a dinner and disco for the elite athletes and organisers which was enjoyed by all and then after a day to rest up, we returned to Australia - a 48 hour trip.