Building confidence

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

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

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

My heart rate chart from this morning's run.

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

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

Returning to the scene

Crossing Mangrove Creek early in
today's run.

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

Dubbo Gully.

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

Dubbo Gully wetlands.

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

Almost finished.

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

Missteps

Terrigal Trotters gather before a Saturday morning run.

This morning, with the sun not rising until after 7:00am and heavy cloud cover, it was very dark for the 6:00am Terrigal Trotters' "Avoca Steps" run.  The Club Committee, of which I am a member, has been encouraging runners to wear light coloured clothing and carry lights or wear headlamps for safety reasons.  The lights were definitely needed today.

I missed the start by three or four minutes because I was packing up the registration books, and by the time I started running, I might as well have been running solo.  Even with my headlight, which is lightweight but not particularly light, the pitch darkness as I climbed the steep dark Kurrawyba lane nearly brought me undone.  Negotiating some posts, I stood on a pavement edge and nearly went down.  Life number one!

Descending Tramway, a few runners were visible in the far distance under the street lighting, but the bulk of my 100+ club-mates were still way ahead.  I was very conscious of not pushing too hard early since I hadn't had time to warm up and remain worried about unduly stressing my heart, so I focused on running evenly and efficiently, sure I would start to catch people within the next few kilometres.  There is no lighting at all on the grass reserve beneath the trees bordering Avoca Lagoon, but I held my pace, relying on memory as much as my headlight.  Nearing the sandy border of the lagoon, I caught my friend, Wayne, who tried to warn me about a hole he had just tripped on, but was too late.  I felt my toes plant on the edge of a small but deep hole in the darkness and my heel stretch down into the nothingness, while my knee hyper-extended backwards stretching ligaments to breaking point.  It hurt momentarily, and I limped for a few steps, but I escaped serious injury.  Life number two!

The last hill on this morning's Trotters run was the climb
to the Skillion Lookout.

With a sense of good fortune, I continued around the lagoon edge and reached Avoca Drive, a long straight stretch with street-lighting where I picked up the pace and began to reel in some of the stragglers.  I was feeling tired, but maintaining form and regular breathing, when I reached the base of the Avoca Steps.  Again the headlamp proved its worth, delivering just enough light for me to pick out the steps as I tried to keep running.  In a couple of places, my path was hindered by runners who had become walkers, and I called for space to pass as I approached.  This didn't work for the last group near the top of the steps and I tried to go around them on the darkened border of the path.  I misjudged and stumbled to the ground in the gloom, but was again fortunate not to injure more than my pride.  Life number three.

Thereafter, I stayed upright, and although very tired over the last kilometres and struggling up the hills, I continued to catch runners and finished in a reasonable time.  I was happy with the run, and particularly happy that my heartbeat remained regular, despite the challenging hills.  However, I know I was lucky none of my little missteps in the dark resulted in torn muscles or ligaments.  On another day, I might have been looking at three weeks off with a soft-tissue injury or worse.  Part of the problem was that I was taking chances in the darkness to try and catch the field.  But for me, taking some calculated risks and accepting challenges are what life is about.  Sometimes you are lucky, and sometimes you're not.  It's the same with the risk of my heart problems recurring.  I could wrap myself in cotton wool, but that would be no life.

Just can't help myself

My run this morning circled Avoca Lagoon.

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

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

Avoca Lagoon.

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

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

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

Slow progress

The Bouddi Coastal Track approaching Killcare.

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

Looking towards Broken Bay and Lion Island.

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

Trail above Pretty Beach.

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

Looking down on Hardy's Bay.

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

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

Mount Rainier

Mt Rainier dominates Tacoma, Washington.

The post about running in the Grand Canyon of a couple of days ago reminded me of another spectacularly scenic run I did back in 1985 in the US.  Mount Rainier is a breathtaking mountain less than 60 miles from Seattle and the sea, rising to a height of 14,411 feet, and dominating the region.  It is located in a Mount Rainier National Park and skirted by a number of hiking trails, the best known of which is the Wonderland Trail, a 93 mile loop that encircles the mountain.

The Wonderland Trail approaches Mt Rainier
along the Cowlitz Divide.

When we visited, we did a few shorter hikes as high as we could go without guides and climbing equipment on the glacier-covered upper slopes, but didn't have the time to do the whole Wonderland Trail.  As a compromise, I found time one afternoon to run a 17 mile portion of the Trail over the mountain's eastern slopes from Box Canyon to the White River.

The Wonderland Trail.

It was basically an up-and-down route, with some very steep and technical sections.  After an initial tough climb away from the road and up onto the Cowlitz Divide ridge, the running became less difficult and the grandeur of the vista more easily appreciated.  It was a beautiful clear sunny and warm day, and the views were expansive in every direction.  Mt Hood, 80 miles away could be made out, as could the nearer, and recently-erupted (1980), Mt St Helens.  The trail, which passed through conifer forests at the lower altitudes and alpine meadows and bare rocky ridges higher up, headed towards the snow-capped peak of Mt Rainier, coming quite close to some of the glaciers and skirting the upper watershed of Boulder Creek before reaching the high point at Panhandle Gap (6,800ft).  Thereafter started a long descent and I remember falling heavily with just a few miles to go, escaping with some minor cuts and bruises, before reaching the park road at Frying Pan Creek and the end of a still-memorable long run.

Boulder Creek from Panhandle Gap.

I wished I had some of that 1985 fitness today as I circled Copa on a hilly 6km on a warm and sunny late morning run.  It was slow, but I expected that after yesterday's faster run.  I need to get rid of the extra 4kg I'm carrying, but of course it's not coming off as quickly as I put it on.  I'll do a longish run tomorrow, not at any great pace, and hopefully that will burn a few calories.  My experience in the past has been that weight doesn't start to come off until a month or two after training resumes following a lay-off, and that it is the long runs that make a difference.  If I wasn't worried about a recurrence of my heart problem, I would already be forcing myself to do long runs every three or four days to get fit and lose the weight, but this time I think I need to keep my approach more moderate.  Things will improve, but I have to be patient.

Not competing

Leading a 1500m Interclub event at Doncaster,
Victoria, in mid-1980s.

It's hard not to be competitive when you have been for your whole life.  Today's Terrigal Trotters 10km Time Trial was to be a test of my newfound resolve not to get competitive in the wake of my recent lung and heart problems.

Only a month ago, I had declared that I wasn't going to run any races for the next six months, at least, while I educated myself through experience about what I could and could not do.  That education is happening, faster than expected.  I'm not nearly as concerned now, when I head out for a run, as I was a month ago when I was anxiously self-assessing during and after each run.  Confidence in my heart health is growing with every safely completed run, though I still take my pulse multiple times each day to check the beat is regular and the rate low.

When I run a little further or harder, such as for last Sunday's long trail run, or today's 10km race, I'm gently pushing against the edge of my fitness envelope, putting a little more strain on my cardiovascular system while recognising that my musculoskeletal system also needs time to retrain after several months off.  Each time I push that envelope edge out a little, I gain confidence and am less anxious next time I run the same distance or speed.

Today, I started out with a gentle 3.5km warm-up around the same loop I had warmed up on for my last Trotters Time Trial at the end of December.  Vivid memories of breathlessness and heart palpitations on the first hill of the warm-up that time gave me a good benchmark against which to measure my current health, and it was pleasing to negotiate it, and the remainder of the warm-up, comfortably.

When the race itself started, at 6:00am, I eased into it, determined not to run faster than was wise, and watched the leaders disappear rapidly into the distance as even the slower parts of the field drifted past me.  I was expecting to be near the back, but it was still hard to watch friends who were unlikely to run faster than 50 minutes, slowly draw away.  I told myself to suck it up and keep running easily.

A couple of kilometres into the race, I began to feel more comfortable (how come I didn't feel that way from the start, having done a reasonable warm-up?) and to slowly catch some of the people who had passed me earlier.  Once that started to happen, I had to keep reminding myself not to consciously chase people down, but to keep my focus on maintaining a good rhythm with relaxed breathing.  Of course, I was only partially successful, and derived some competitive pleasure from slowly reeling people in as they emerged from the pre-dawn darkness ahead of me.

Approaching the turn, it was sobering to see how far I was behind the leaders, but I tried not too dwell on it.  Instead, I focussed on some of the people who were not so far ahead and who I might be able to catch if I maintained my present pace and form.  Among them was friend, Bruce, who had left me for dead on last Sunday's long run and would not want me to catch him today.  I concentrated hard on keeping my breathing and pace steady, but had a couple of moments on short rises where I may have detected some pressure in my chest, and backed off the pace a little.  It's impossible to know whether such moments are minor heart flutters, or just chest discomfort from running harder for the first time in months.  On each occasion, I quickly returned to my rhythm and didn't really lose any momentum. I caught Bruce with a few kilometres to go and finished tired, but not exhausted, in 47:36, maybe a little faster than expected.

I have checked my heartbeat a number of times since and it seems to be strong and regular so maybe the misbeats were just my imagination.  Historically, my time was slow, but the chances of running near 40 minutes, as was my target four months ago, have probably gone.  However, it's reasonable to think I will run faster without increased effort, as I lose the four kilograms of extra weight I'm carrying and my musculoskeletal system tunes up, and that's some comfort.

Benchmarks

Near the start of the Avoca Steps.

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

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

More of the Avoca Steps.

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

Further up the Avoca Steps.

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

The final section of the Avoca Steps.

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

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

Chorleywood long run

Approaching Amersham.

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

Crossing Hervines Park in Amersham.

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

Looking towards Hill Farm, near Chesham.

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

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

The Chess valley.

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

Heavy weekend

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

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

On the early part of the trail run.

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

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

Looking west from Mt Scopus on the trail run.

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

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

Cautious optimism

Part of the trail loop in Chiltern-Mt Pilot
National Park yesterday.

Yesterday was another day spent driving, this time the 1,000km back to Copa from Melbourne.  Even though it was supposed to be an easy day, I felt compelled to stop in at the Chiltern-Mt Pilot National Park en route to run a favourite 9km hilly single-track bush trail loop.  It's about three hours north of Melbourne, so is well-timed for a morning run after an early start and helps break up the journey.

McMasters Firetrail on this morning's run.

I ran very slowly, particularly at the start, and enjoyed the quiet bush solitude, disturbed only by some bird life and a few startled wallabies.  My legs were tired after Sunday's 15km, but not too bad, and I finished comfortably and refreshed.

Cockrone Lagoon on this morning's run.

My current training plan is to run longer every second day, with an easy day in between, so long as I feel my heart and lungs are good and I don't get over-tired.  So, for today's run, I again cadged a lift from Sharon to her school and then ran a somewhat circuitous 19km route, maximising the bush content, back from Erina to Copa.  It was yet another perfect day and I felt remarkably fresh as I negotiated Erina Valley, Kincumba Mountain and some of Bouddi National Park.  I ran up all of the hills, some of them quite steep and technical, but never pushed the pace to the point where I was gasping for breath.

I'm definitely fitter than a month ago when I resumed running after my two-month break, and I feel like my lungs and heart are functioning well again after the Pulmonary Embolism and Atrial Flutter scares.  I'm starting to enjoy my running again, and particularly, my ability to run longer distances on the trails.  The question now is how much further my fitness can improve and how much I can push it?  And how much is it safe to push it?  For the moment, I'll keep it "recreational".

Monument Valley

Approaching Monument Valley from the north.

One of the most spectacular places I have ever run is Monument Valley in the Navajo National Monument in Arizona.  The landscape is stereotypical "western" and a number of famous movies have been filmed there including The Searchers, How The West Was Won, Easy Rider, The Eiger Sanction and Forrest Gump.  When a runner visits, as I did in the winter of 1986, the temptation to go for a run is irresistible.

The Valley is on Najavo Indian land and there is limited access to tourists.  When we visited, you were not permitted to drive from the Visitors Centre down into the valley, though I think guided tours were available.  I didn't, however, see any signs prohibiting foot travel and didn't bother asking at the Visitors Centre in case I got an answer I didn't like (a tried and tested method).

Monument Valley.

We were out of season and I remember it being cold, but not freezing, so ideal for running.  I looked at a map and decided on a 12 mile route that would take me down into the valley and past the most spectacular outcrops.  It was a gravel road but easy running and I enjoyed the desert terrain and being dwarfed by the massive red rock spires.  Being Indian land there were a few houses down in the valley, just off the route I was running, but nobody bothered me, not even the dogs I could hear barking as I passed nearby.  The climb back out of the valley was strenuous, but I was running on a "high" and enjoyed every yard of the memorable run.

Monument Valley.

For my run today, I had arranged to meet the son of an old English friend and some of his friends for a few laps of Melbourne's 4km Tan Track.  As it turned out, the boys had had a "heavy" night and didn't make it for the run, but that was probably a good thing.  I would inevitably have become "competitive" with the youngsters and have promised myself to remain "recreational" for a while until I get more confidence in my heart's well-being.  I ended up running four laps for just under 16km and did it comfortably from a cardio-vascular perspective, but both knees ached and I never felt smooth.  I'm wondering whether the sore knees result from running too slowly, meaning the forces on my knees are different.  As I build confidence in my cardio-vascular health I will run a little faster, and hopefully, have less knee pain.  On the positive side, my adductor muscle strain was only mildly painful, so is getting better.

Maitland Bay

Strom's Track this morning.

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

Maitland Bay this morning.

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

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

Maitland Bay this morning.

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

Maitland Bay this morning.

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

Bouddi Coastal Track this morning.

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

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

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

Six Foot Track

Six Foot Track.

It's been hard not to be a little despondent today.  This morning, while I was struggling around the Trotters 16km Matcham Valley course at not much better than 6 minutes per kilometre, the Six Foot Track 45km race was starting from near Katoomba in the fabulous Blue Mountains with many friends in the field.

Blue Mountains.

Just three months ago "Six Foot" had loomed large in my training plans.  Apart from being a very challenging course in a beautiful environment, it's popularity with runners from all over Australia make it a benchmark race to see how good you really are.  I would have loved to run it in my heyday when my marathon speed combined with trail-running experience (in training) and strength on hills would have made me a podium contender.  But that's easy to say now.  Thirty years ago, there were few trail races and they were seen as something of a novelty event.  Marathons were everything to me, and I would never have targeted and trained for a specific trail race.  Even now, it's rare to find Australia's best marathon runners contesting trail races.  The reality is that, even if Six Foot had been a big race thirty years ago (it was just starting out), I probably wouldn't have run it anyway.

Six Foot Track.

Nowadays, my attitude to trail racing is different.  And three months ago, I was hoping to get a podium finish in the 60+ age group today, and maybe threaten the age group record.  I have come close in the past.  But it wasn't to be.  Health issues intervened and I must consider myself lucky to have been running anywhere today.  Nevertheless, I'm envious of my friends who are running and can't help wishing, as I write this, that I was making that helter skelter descent on the scary single track to the buzzing finish at Jenolan Caves, with legs begging for mercy and the prospect of a good time and post-race glow just minutes away.  Running just doesn't get any better than that, and it makes me sad to think I may never experience it again.

Signs are good

It was a little gloomy at Terrigal Haven this morning.

It was heart-warming at this morning's 6:00am Haven track session to have so many friends say how pleased they were for me on my return to running.

It is good to be running again, though I started my own 11km run after the track session with some apprehension.  Yesterday's heart monitor read-out after my 5km run showed a very irregular pattern for the first ten minutes, and I had felt a little uncomfortable during that time.  Today's run started with a good-sized hill, which I knew would be a good test of my heart rhythm, even if I took it slowly.  I reached the top without incident, as happened on the second long hill near the end.  Although I felt tired and unfit the whole way, it was satisfying to return to another of my regular courses.  Once home, I loaded the heart monitor data, fearing the worst, but found no evidence of any problems.

Looking north from Terrigal Haven this morning.

The next test for the day, about which I was also apprehensive, was a noon appointment with my cardiologist to check progress since the cardioversion three weeks ago.  He started with an electrocardiograph and followed it with a blood pressure test.  The former showed my heart continues to beat in sinus rhythm and the latter read 115/78.  All good!  We then had a conversation about my prognosis during which he said I could resume my normal life.  I was particularly interested in the viability of a long backcountry hiking trip I hope to make later in the year down the Appalachian Trail in the US.  He said that, subject to carrying some precautionary medication, there was no reason to cancel, though he wants to see me again before I go.

Terrigal Haven this morning.

The possibility of reversion to Atrial Flutter remains (as high as 50% according to some research), but apparently my risk factors are low.  The way forward is becoming clearer and my optimism is growing.  I will continue running, but avoid racing, and resume planning my hiking trip.  It could be a lot worse.

Rob de Castella

Me (in green hoops) at the 16km mark en route to my PB marathon
(2nd, 2:19:06) behind Rob De Castella (1st, 2:14:44) at Point Cook,
Victoria, in June 1979.

One of my claims to fame is that I ran second to Rob de Castella, Australia's most famous marathoner, in his first marathon.  The apocryphal story is that Rob only ran the marathon, the 1979 Victorian Championship, to get a place in the Victorian team for the Australian Championship to be held in Perth later in the year.  His girlfriend lived in Perth, and he had no money.

I've often said that to be a great runner you need to inherit the right genes from your parents, have the self-discipline to do the necessary training and hard-nosed racing, and be lucky enough to avoid serious injury.  I think Rob had all of those attributes and used them to become the best in the world.

Winning the Cinque Mulini race
in Italy.

I first became aware of Rob when he was still a junior athlete and can remember him as an impoverished student driving an old Peugeot 403 and camping near us for one of the first Bacchus 12000 races at Griffith (see post titled Bacchus 12000).  There was no arrogance, but you sensed there was enormous potential and I was always a keen follower of his running career and proud to know him.

We were more acquaintances than friends, but often trained with the same groups, especially on the long Sunday runs in the Dandenongs (see post titled Ferny Creek 21).  As I recall, after running the regular 21 Miler for some years, I decided I needed to add some distance to bring it up to 25 miles some Sundays, and was gratified to see Rob occasionally following suit a few months later.  There were also some Wednesday evening runs in Melbourne.  They were fast 15-20 milers after work over inner city parks and roads and I can remember grimly hanging on to the small bunch of class runners as we flew across Royal Park at better than 6 minute mile pace.

Although he had already represented Australia internationally as a cross-country runner, that first marathon in 1979 signalled the start of a famous career that included Commonwealth Games, World Championship, Boston and New York titles, along with a world's best time.

The last time I trained with Rob was when we passed through Boulder, Colorado, where he was living as a full-time professional athlete, while travelling the US in 1985.  The morning run was a few miles with him and Rosa Mota, one of the best female marathoners of her era, and the evening session was on the track at the local university where I was totally out of my depth in twelve laps of sprinting the straights.

He was always a class, or two, above me as a runner, but I felt a kinship because I knew first-hand how hard he trained to get where he did.

I ran just 5km around Copa this morning, but maybe ran a little harder.  I coped well enough, but never felt comfortable.  I was stiff and my knees hurt.  What was more disturbing, however, was the post-run read-out on my heart monitor which showed an erratic beat for the first ten minutes.  It could be a technical glitch, but I was conscious of an uneasy feeling in my chest early in the run.  Memo to self: start slowly and build into future runs.