Tempting Fate

Waiting for the start of my comeback race in
March 2015 near St Louis, Missouri.

It has been more than fifteen months since my last blog post and for much of that time I have been unable to run.  The right heel problem referred to in my last post worsened and scans revealed significant damage. I was told that my serious running days were over (not for the first time in the last 30 years!).  The best I could reasonably hope for was to jog 5km a few times a week.

The pain was significant in multiple areas of the heel and I stopped running and started mountain biking as a means of keeping fit.  In March of this year, I resumed jogging, strongly motivated by the opportunity to run, three weeks later, a favourite event in the US for the first time since the mid-1990s. Through experimentation and experience, I have learned to manage the heel in a number of different ways.  Much to my astonishment, I have been able to run, relatively uninterrupted, for the last six months and reached a level of fitness sufficient to resurrect the faint hope of running a good marathon time.

The heel still causes me problems, along with all of the other niggles a 64 year old runner endlessly gets, but I am enjoying my running and still seeing improvement.  I have picked out a marathon in April of next year, six months away, and will now chart my progress towards that race in this blog.  To run a good time, I will have to remain relatively uninjured for the six months, an unlikely prospect.  Just restarting the blog makes me feel like I am tempting fate!

Carp diem

A trail in the Yarra Valley in Ivanhoe.

While visiting Melbourne, and limited to about 5km a day, I have been running the same circuit in the Glen Iris/Malvern area.  The last part of the course takes me through streets adjacent to Malvern's Central Park, where a good friend, Tom, lived before his tragic death while cycling back in 2006.

He was another one of those people who was good at everything.  Highly respected as a lawyer, known especially for his pro bono work and support of worthy causes, he was also a very accomplished rower, having represented both the University of Melbourne and the University of Cambridge in his youth.

The Yarra Valley at Templestowe.

I can't remember when I first met Tom, but it was probably in the late 1970s, and we soon got to know each other well.  As you might expect for a rower, he was quite a big guy, but was a great all round athlete and ran some good marathons, getting into the 2:30s.  For a number of years, he was part of a small group of us who met in Kew each Sunday morning for a run on roads and trails in the Yarra Valley.  True to his nature, he also looked out for the well-being of one of our running friends who had occasional rough patches in his life.

Another trail in the Yarra Valley in Templestowe.

Although I lived outside of Australia for sixteen years from 1987, I always looked forward to visiting Kew for the Sunday morning run on home visits to catch up on all of the news, and Tom remained a good friend during all of those expatriate years.  He was a little older than me, and due to retire in less than a year, when the bike accident cut short his life.  We had toyed with the idea of doing some adventuring together after his retirement, and he would have been a great companion.  Carpe diem.

This morning's 5km passed without incident, although the aches and pains of the last few days are still there.  I'll just keep jogging the same distance for the next few days and expect I will start to feel better soon.

Realising potential

This morning's run passed by the famous Melbourne
Cricket Ground.

In a previous post, I wrote about the attributes I consider keys to reaching the top as a runner (and most fields of endeavour) - the right genes (natural talent), hard work and luck.  This is simplistic, of course, but in my chosen sport of long-distance running, the champions seem to have all three.

For this morning's run, I travelled into the East Melbourne apartment of an old friend, Bill, and we ran about 8km down to, and around, the Tan Track and back.  Bill is a formidable performer in any field of endeavour he chooses.  I first met him at University where we were both doing our Masters degrees, and he was way ahead of the class.  He is also an accomplished musician, has reached the pinnacle of his chosen academic profession, and is a quality cyclist and runner.

Looking up Anderson Street Hill on Melbourne's
Tan Track.

In all these fields, he has leveraged some good genes with fierce dedication and focus to explore his considerable potential and reach elite levels.  He's not a person who's going to die wondering "What if?" or whether he got the best out of himself.  I have always respected his attitude and sometimes wondered whether I could have been a better runner if I had his self-discipline.

Luck wasn't on his side in running and cycling, with crippling injuries shortening his competitive career, but he was hard to beat, especially over distances from 10km to 25km.  Nowadays, he's content to run for an hour most days, chronic injuries permitting, and doesn't run competitively, reasoning that this will extend his running life.  He has advised me to do the same, and I can see the wisdom of this approach.  Maybe that is what I will end up doing.

Melbourne's Tan Track.

Bill took mercy on me this morning, and we jogged our 8km at the princely speed of 6 minutes per kilometre.  The run included the famed Anderson Street hill, about which I was somewhat apprehensive, but it passed without incident and my pulse was still beating regularly when we finished.  My right calf was sore and my joints and legs ached, but it was great to be running with an old friend on a picture perfect morning around some of our old haunts.

Marine encounters

Hatteras Island, North Carolina.

Yesterday, as I finished my walk along the Copa beach, I was lucky enough to see a pod of dolphins just beyond the breaking waves.  It's always a thrill to encounter wild animals when out running, and I have written about some of those rare encounters in other posts (Katahdin, More animal encounters, Yellowstone).  Meetings with sea life tend to be even more rare, and yesterday's sighting got me thinking about other such occasions.

Probably the most exciting encounter was thirty years ago when we were touring the U.S. and camped on Hatteras Island, a very long and extremely narrow barrier island off the coast of North Carolina.  Two islands just to the north were Nag's Head, famous for the historic Kill Devil Hills where the Wright Brothers took the first powered flight, and Roanoke, where one of the earliest groups of English colonists in America, comprising 150 people, disappeared without trace some time between ship visits in 1587 and 1590.  Despite the local history, the running options on Hatteras were very limited - either a run along the boring road that traversed the length of the island or along the sandy beach.

Hatteras Island beach.

I chose the latter, and having run a 25 miler the day before, was just cruising southwards along the empty and monotonous beach, when I got the feeling I wasn't alone.  Looking into the small surf to my left, there was a pod of fifteen to twenty dolphins, little more than 20 metres from the water's edge, travelling south at exactly the same speed as me.  I have to believe they knew I was there, because for the next half mile, they maintained their relative position as we eyed each other off.  They then peeled off into deeper water and I was on my own again.  I had another "marine" encounter a mile or two further on, with a very large and very dead hammerhead shark on the water's edge, but that doesn't really count as wildlife.

A whale passes South Point on Wilsons Promontory.

Although not a running encounter, another meeting that lives large in my memory was at the start of a mountain bike ride from the southernmost point of mainland Australia, South Point on Wilsons Promontory, to the northernmost, Cape York, in 2006.  It wasn't possible to ride my bike all the way to South Point for the start because of National Park regulations and difficult trail, so I set out early one morning from the settlement at Tidal River to hike the 42 kilometre round trip.  At the isolated South Point, large and slippery boulders washed by occasionally large swells made it quite difficult to clamber down to the water's edge to fill a small jar of water I was planning to carry for the 4300km journey north and empty into the sea at Cape York.  At one point I wondered whether my journey was going to end where it started, with my body never found, but eventually accomplished the task.  As I climbed back up to a point of relative safety, I heard an incongruous noise just to my right, and there, moving very slowly through the water about 20 metres offshore, and occasionally spouting, was a large black whale.  It was close enough for me to see its eye and it seemed to be looking right at me.  I took the sighting as a good omen, and as it turned out, had a great trip.

I walked 6km today, including some hills, without any difficulty or breathlessness.  However, I am constantly conscious of my heart beating, and although my pulse seems regular, can't escape the feeling that something is not quite right.  I woke in the small hours and couldn't go back to sleep, just lying there hyper-sensitive to my heart beat, trying to work out whether it was functioning properly, and looking for signs that it was not.  It may be, and I hope it is, just some post-procedure anxiety.  If that's right, then my sensitivity will diminish in the next couple of weeks and my confidence will grow, but at the moment I still feel like I am walking on eggshells.

Sleep

Late night dinner in the western Queensland town of
Cloncurry while trying to break the round Australia
record in 2007

The problem with Thursdays is, that after getting up early to supervise the 6:00am Terrigal Trotters track session at The Haven, I eat late and get to bed late after supervising the 6:00pm track session at Adcock Park in Gosford.  (I'm not complaining about the track sessions.  I find them rewarding and it's a way for me to pay back with a bit of volunteering after a working career during which my volunteering was minimal.)

As I get older, it seems I like my sleep more.  If golf is scheduled for early Friday morning, as it often is, I get very tired and start to dread the early starts that follow on Saturday and Sunday.

Crossing the Atherton Tableland in the Northern Territory
during the 2008 attempt to break the round Australia record

I'm sure that all serious runners think about the amount of sleep they get and regret that they don't get more.  Earlier in my running career, I envied the full-time athletes who had nothing to do all day but train and sleep and figured this could be a key factor in their success.  I also used to get stressed if I could not get a good night's sleep before a big race.

However, as I have aged, my views on sleep have become more relaxed.  I now don't worry if I get insufficient sleep the night before a big race.  Instead, I try and get a few good nights' sleep in the week before and just take what I can get the night before.  Often you are sleeping in a strange place or maybe sharing accommodation and subject to the night routine of others.  Despite a lack of sleep, I have found the adrenalin, excitement and atmosphere of race day is enough to get you up mentally for the race.  The last thing you need to be worrying about is a sleepless night.  Once the race starts, you tend to forget all about it.

Taking a break in the Northern Territory during the 2009
attempt to break the round Australia record

The other thing I have learned is that I can survive on a lot less sleep than I would like.  During my working career, I averaged a little over six hours per night, but functioned fine so long as I was doing something.  If I sat still in a presentation or lecture, or on a plane, I was prone to go to sleep, but if I kept working I was fine.  The real sleep test for me came during my three failed attempts to break the record for riding a bike solo and unsupported around Australia.  I soon learned that success was as much a function of being able to operate on little sleep as it was on cycling prowess.  Almost all nights were limited to four to five hours sleep, with 1:00am starts, 300 kilometre days, and occasional brief cat-naps during the day if I became too tired to continue.  I was amazed at what my body could do if tested, though if you consider the privations of, say, soldiers in the trenches during the First World War, my efforts were modest.

The lesson for me about sleep is that you should get as much as you can, but not sweat it if you run short.  So long as you are motivated, you can keep going on minimal sleep.

Not wanting to leave today's run until after the morning golf game, I got myself up at 4:30am and squeezed in a slow 5km around Copa in the early morning half light.  My right Achilles was quite painful and my pace was slow, but I do feel I'm moving more freely.  It's the monthly Terrigal Trotters 10km Time Trial tomorrow, and I would like to run a reasonable time, but am trying to avoid any expectations.  I feel that my overall fitness is at about 75% of where I would like to be, and this is unlikely to translate into a good 10km time.

Strategy

2013 started well with 18th place overall
(out of 309) in the Boney Mt Trail Half
Marathon, outside LA in the USA, on
7 January.

This morning, I ran an easy 10km from Terrigal in beautiful winter sunshine.  My right arch still hurts a little and my adductor was again a bit sore, but I'm optimistic that both are continuing to improve.

I've been reviewing my objective to run another sub-3:00 hour marathon, and how long such a quest should be pursued.  Maybe I'm kidding myself, but I still believe that, if things go well, I can do it.  On the other hand, I made three attempts over three years to break the record for the quickest circumnavigation of Australia by bike, solo and unsupported, and each failed for different reasons at about the half-way mark.  Even now, in my heart, I still believe I could achieve that feat if everything went my way, but accept that the risks are significant, and maybe I should leave it alone.

Running a sub-3:00 hour marathon at the age of 62 (or 63), is less risky and less challenging.  For example, in last month's Gold Coast Marathon, the 60-64 Age Group winner ran 2:46!  And, I only have to worry about my body, not road trains or bicycle mechanics.

An old friend, whose opinion I respect, recently told me that there was something a little sad about pursuit of these goals where the chance of success is small.  His view is that I should focus on my running longevity, since I enjoy the sport so much, and not increase the risk of injury by chasing likely futile objectives .  There's certainly some logic to that argument.  For whatever reason, I can't help trying to see how far or fast I can go; to find the edge of the "envelope".  Maybe it's a pursuit of celebrity, and I don't mind the limelight.  My brother says, that since childhood, I've had a "Look at me, look at me!" complex, and I can't deny it.

I accept that pursuing such goals may bring a career-ending injury closer.  However, I just wouldn't be happy if I wasn't running as much as I think my body can reasonably sustain.  That's what I've been doing most of the last 45 years, and its ingrained.  I also know from observation, that at my age (and younger), there are many other things that could unexpectedly bring my running career (and life) to an early halt, so why save myself.

Having said all of that, a sub-3:00 hour marathon is not my only mission in life.  Since retiring ten years ago, I have tried to have one big adventure each year, generally cycling or hiking.  If I haven't managed a sub-3:00 hour marathon by July next year, I will give up on the quest and get back to my usual adventures.  There are many things still on my bucket list.

I don't believe it's feasible to run marathons (and ultras) too frequently if you want to achieve your potential.  My rule of thumb is that such events should be three or four months apart, if you are focused on doing your absolute best.  With this in mind, I have ear-marked the Hobart Marathon (January), Canberra Marathon (April) and Gold Coast Marathon (July) as events I will train for specifically with the goal of a sub-3:00.  I still intend to run the Melbourne Marathon in October, but don't expect to be fit enough to run my best.  As soon as I get back into full training, hopefully, by the end of this month, I will work out a detailed training and race plan to target the Hobart Marathon in January 2014.

Despondency

Central Park, Malvern

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

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

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

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

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

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

Downtime

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



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

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


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

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

Other sports

Golf at 7am again this morning and I headed out for my easy 5km at 5:15am on the longest night of the year. It was cold and my right Achilles was sore, but didn't feel too bad considering how hard last night's track session had been for me.  One of the reasons that I squeeze my run in before golf is that I think it loosens me up a little.  There have been occasions in the past when I have run after golf and suffered from side or back injuries.  I can't specifically tie those injuries to golf, but I do think that participating in other sports can be risky if you are a serious runner.



Melbourne Herald, 1 February 1973

I gave up other sports I enjoyed playing, such as cricket, tennis and volleyball, during my twenties because either running took up too much time, or because of the risk of injury.  I also frequently represented my Club in hurdles and jump events, and even competed in the State Decathlon Championships when 22, coming 10th out of 18 entrants.  My pole-vaulting was execrable and inspired the accompanying article in the Melbourne evening newspaper.

In my late twenties, when I got really serious about my marathon running, I realised that injuries in other sports and events risked derailing my ambitions and I began to focus strictly on running.  I confess that I now question the value of time devoted to other types of training, such as cycling or cross-training, and particularly think they should not be substituted for running training for the serious runner.  But, everybody is different.  I always raced best when running a very high mileage (200km -240km per week) which didn't leave much time for other training when working full-time, but I know of others who have successfully used a different approach.

During my preparation for the Melbourne Marathon over the next four months, I have decided to stay away from my bike and kayak, just in case they are incompatible with the running.  I decided, however, that playing golf had lower risk, but after this morning am not so sure.  Not only did I play my worst round for a long time, but I could feel tingling nerves in my lower back and some stiffness from yesterday's track session.  The two are probably connected.  Hopefully, I will feel more flexible for tomorrow morning's run with Terrigal Trotters during which I hope to run hard.