You never can tell

Sunday morning, before my 28km run, was spent helping
at a drink station for Terrigal Trotters Bay to Bay
Running Festival.

When the alarm sounded at 5:00am, unusually for me, I lay in bed for a couple of minutes pondering whether I would get up.  I was tired, it was very cold and dark, and I dreaded putting my right foot on the ground, sure that the heel and Achilles tendon would be painful.  But, my car was booked in early for some repairs and I knew that if I was to get a run in this morning, I needed to get up.

The first runner through in the Half
Marathon was Olympian, Martin Dent.

I lay in bed rationalising.  It was easy to justify giving the run a miss.  Instead, I could go for a walk while the car was serviced.  After all, it was only nine days since I ran a marathon and there was nothing to lose by missing another day's training, especially after labouring through a 28km run on Sunday following the tempo 11km Trotters run on Saturday.  Also, my right heel and Achilles tendon have been particularly painful the last three weeks and would benefit from another day of not running.  It wasn't hard to come up with reasons to roll over for another hour or two of sleep, and the advice I was giving myself was the same as I would have given to another runner in my situation.

The leading runners in the later-starting 12km event
(yellow singlets) catch one of the slower Half Marathon
runners.

But a little voice in my head told me I was being soft.  That if I stopped thinking about it and just did what I needed to do, I would be home, with the run done, before I knew it.  I rolled out of bed, went through my usual exercise routine, did a few small chores and was out the door soon after 5:30am.  It was dark and cold, and in the far distance I could hear the surf pounding on the Copa beach.  My first few steps weren't as hard as I expected, nor was my right heel as sore as anticipated (I had switched to some older Nike Pegasus shoes that I hadn't worn for a while), and my spirits lifted.

I wasn't running very fast, but I was moving OK.  As the kilometres passed, I felt better and better and was actually enjoying the run through the dark suburban streets with just a glimmer of light beginning to brighten the eastern skies.  My heel got a little sorer, but was nowhere near as painful as it had been on the weekend runs.  I finished feeling refreshed and glad that I had run.  It's easy to justify a day off, and maybe it wouldn't have made any difference if I had missed the run, but I have seldom regretted forcing myself out the door.  And I know I will be happier today for having done it.

Free food

Garden of the Gods, Colorado Springs.

In a recent post, Las Vegas Marathon, I wrote about how my then wife, Barb, and I unexpectedly won quite a large amount of money in that 1986 race.  Three months earlier, in the space of a week, we had smaller, but no less welcome, successes in two fun runs.

Although still September, a cold front moved through on a bleak Saturday as we drove into Colorado Springs with the intention of running in the El Paso Chiropractic Association 5 Miles race the next morning.  We camped at nearby at Manitou Springs and went for an evening run in light snow through the nearby awe-inspiring Garden of the Gods park.  A cold night followed, with the temperature dropping to 22°F, and we woke to a snowy white world.  Our first challenge was the drive to the start at Palmer Park on the empty ice-covered roads.  We slid in slow motion all the way to the bottom of one hill, lucky to avoid hitting anything along the way.

Palmer Park, Colorado Springs.

The adverse weather impacted the race turnout and there were only about 40 entrants in bitterly cold weather.  I was the only person running in shorts, with everyone else more appropriately dressed for the weather, when we set off following a lead car.  On a largely snow-covered hilly road course with icy corners and descents, I won easily (24:33, short course) after attacking the last slippery descent, and surviving, while my nearest rivals took a more circumspect approach.  Barb was first in the women's division, and we each won a dinner for two at a local restaurant.  We had been planning to drive to Denver straight after the race, but negotiated to have one of the dinners that night, handed the other prize back, and hung around until evening to enjoy our prize.  Being on a very tight travelling budget, this was the first time we had eaten at a restaurant in six months on the road, and the quality four-course meal was much appreciated.

Wildcat Hills, Nebraska.

The following Saturday, while visiting Scottsbluff, Nebraska, we found out about the Wildcat Hills 5 Mile Race to be held in the nearby Wildcat Hills the following morning.  We entered the race at a local sports shop, and that night slept in our campervan parked near the start point for the race.  We were woken the next morning by the sound of car doors slamming as competitors arrived.  The field was again small, and I won overall (26:22) after a hard-fought race with a guy who had driven 200 miles from Denver for the event, while Barb was just pipped by his girlfriend in the women's division.  We were a little disappointed to find the prizes were medals, but then my name was drawn in the competitor raffle, and I won a Pizza Hut voucher for their store back in Scottsbluff.  We drove back into town, ordered our pizzas, and then headed west on the highway across the prairie eating our pizzas and dribbling melted cheese from broad smiles.

Yesterday's long run aggravated my chronic right knee and Achilles tendon injuries and I limited my exercise this morning to a 5km walk around Copa.

T-shirts

T-shirt Quilt - Side 1.

I am a bit of a hoarder and in 45 years of running have collected quite a lot of trophies, finisher's medals and T-shirts.  The trophies and medals are mostly stored away in a cupboard and just don't evoke the same sentimentality as the T-shirts.

Some are treasured because they were from a memorable race, such as the London to Brighton in the early 1990s, my first serious ultra.  Others date from early career, such as the All Weather Running Club from my school in London.  Still others are valued because they are reminiscent of a particular era in my running life, such as the Bacchus 12000 shirts earned on the trips with club-mates to Griffith in the early 1980s.  Many just have a great eye-catching design, such as the Quivering Quads and Pere Marquette trail races from St Louis in the mid-1990s and several were given to me by people returning from events such as the 1981 World Cross-Country Champs.  A number don't relate to running events at all, but are still meaningful, such as the souvenir US T-shirts that were all I could find to buy and run in (along with some fleecy shorts!) when my baggage got lost on a business trip to Washington DC.

T-shirt Quilt - Side 2.

The common denominator with all of these T-shirts is that they have covered many kilometres, visited many places, and been laundered to within an inch of their lives.  Even as they shrank and lost their shape, I still loved them and couldn't bring myself to throw them out even though they were no longer wearable.  So, a couple of years ago, I asked a friend whether she would be willing to cut them up and sew them into a quilt.  The result is a superb piece of art and artisanship that fills me with pride and memories whenever I look at it.

No specific walking for exercise today, but I did play nine holes of golf which equates to about 5km (probably longer, the way I play).

Ron Clarke

Ron Clarke

Way back in the mid-1960s, I was living in London where my father had been posted for three years.  Like many young teenagers, I played several different sports and still believed, that one day, I could be world class in one of them.  Sadly, reality gradually dawned on the tennis court, cricket ground and rugby field as I recognised a lacked of the physique and ball skills to ever be a champion.

Like many expatriates I was proud when homeland heroes did well on the international stage and Ron Clarke toured Europe at just the right time to get my attention.  Just a few months after my family settled in the UK in 1965, Ron toured the US and Europe, breaking 12 track world records, including becoming the first man ever to run 3 miles in less than 13 minutes, 6 miles in less than 27 minutes and 10,000m in less than 28 minutes.  The times themselves didn't mean much to me, but Ron's style of running did.  Although he seemed to lack the finishing kick to win tactical major Games titles, he was a machine when it came to world record attempts.  He generally ran from the front and gradually burned off his competitors, often breaking world records by prodigious amounts.  Ron was indisputably the best distance runner in the world during the mid-60s.  Possessing the characteristics of toughness, discipline and excellence that I admired and aspired to, he was a worthy hero.  I don't want to overplay it, but he certainly got me thinking that running might be my sport.

Ron Clarke wins bronze in the 10,000m at the 1964 Tokyo
Olympics behind Billy Mills (USA) and Mohammed
Gammoudi (Tunisia)

After returning to Australia and getting more serious about my running, I became even more appreciative of Ron's talents and record.  I probably saw him at Victorian running events during this time, but have no specific memory.  However, when I began to reach my marathon prime in the late 70s and did well in some bigger races we had some brief interactions and he got to know who I was.  I remember being very proud when I won a small fun run in Melbourne's north-eastern suburbs and Ron, who was presenting the prizes, referred to me as one of Australia's up-and-coming distance runners.  I can also remember him giving me a toot on his car horn near the Tan as I ran to work during the morning commute.  His acknowledgement seemed to give my running efforts credibility in my own mind, and that was important to me.

Ron Clarke tracks Michel Jazy (France) during a
1965 two mile race in France in which Jazy
broke the world record

The sad thing about Ron's career was that it was brought to a premature end by a heart problem he believes developed during the high altitude Mexico City Olympics in 1968.  He faded quickly in the last few laps of the 10,000m final after being in contention with two laps to go, collapsed unconscious after crossing the line and was given oxygen.  A few years later he was diagnosed with a heart defect and in 1983, after suffering fibrillation during a run, had successful surgery to replace a faulty valve.  You can read an excellent summary of Ron's career here.

No fibrillation or flutter for me today as I walked a flat 7km for exercise.  I felt fine, but remain despondent that this is all the exercise I am allowed for the next six weeks.  It's very tempting to see if I can jog around my usual Copa 5km course at an easy pace, but I guess I'll follow the doctor's orders.

1981 Melbourne Marathon

The lead bunch in the 1981 Melbourne Marathon at
about 5km.  I'm on the left and eventual winner, Andrew
Lloyd, is in the centre wearing the hat.

I ran a very gentle 5km this morning, telling myself that I was feeling fresh and in good form for Sunday's Melbourne Marathon.  It was very slow, but none of my chronic injuries were very painful, so that was a good sign.  Later I travelled into the city to pick up my race pack from the Runner's Expo and chatted with some friends I met there, before lunching with the son of a friend who will be running his debut marathon on Sunday.  All of these little events and meetings help build the anticipation for Sunday's run and are part of the marathon experience.  We're all wondering how things will turn out on the day, and just want to get running.

In yesterday's blog I wrote about how much the Melbourne Marathon was a part of my earlier running life and about my experience in the first Melbourne Marathon in 1978.

The leading bunch at around 5km of the
1981 Melbourne Marathon with me in
the foreground

By the time I ran the 1981 Melbourne "Big M" Marathon, I was recognised as an experienced marathon runner and a podium prospect in the races I ran.  I had also dealt with some career-threatening injuries, particularly a serious lower back problem, and was never sure I would make it to the start line of any particular event.  Another injury, to my left Achilles tendon, was serious enough to warrant anti-inflammatories and I was scheduled for surgery a month after the race.

My success in the 1978 "Big M", and subsequent personal best of 2:19 in the 1979 Victorian Marathon Championship, had also attracted a minor level of sponsorship with Brooks Shoes.  There was no money involved, but they supplied me with shoes and running clothing and I agreed to wear their running attire at certain events.  This was the case for the 1981 "Big M", and they had supplied me with their latest and greatest marathon running shoe a month before the event.  I wore them in lead-up long runs, including the week before the marathon on forestry roads from our weekend shack in the mountains about an hour east of Melbourne.  When I returned from that last long training run, while still wearing my running gear, I decided to cut up a fallen tree on our property before showering.  A log slipped as I was cutting and knocked the chainsaw down to my left foot where it neatly sliced through the top of one of my new shoes, but incredibly didn't draw any blood.  This is one of several occasions in my life where, but for some good fortune, serious injury or worse would have been incurred.  I had to sheepishly call the Brooks rep, explain my mishap, and request a replacement pair of shoes, which he supplied.

Around the 15km mark of the 1981 Melbourne Marathon,
Andrew Lloyd and I began to get away from the field

The race itself had a good field, including two-time winner, Andy Lloyd from Sydney, known throughout Australia as the "Fun Run King".  Andy later won the City to Surf Fun Run four times and represented Australia on the track, winning a Gold Medal in the 5000m at the 1990 Commonwealth Games (worth watching on Youtube).  He was a superbly talented and versatile runner who was probably wasting his time on the marathon at this early stage of his career.  Anyway, the pace was solid and steady from the start at about 16:00 per 5km, and a large bunch gradually thinned out until around half way, it was down to just Andy Lloyd and me.  After I had shadowed him for a while, he tired of my presence and began to throw in some surges, running faster for a few hundred metres and then backing off.  After a few of these, it had the desired effect and I dropped off as well.  With about 6km to go, his lead had stretched to about two and a half minutes, even though I was still running reasonably well.  At this point there was a slow climb on the course (Fitzroy Street) before a seemingly endless long finishing straight along the broad and tree-lined St Kilda Road.  The climb must have taken its toll on Andy because when I turned into St Kilda Road, I could see him and the lead car ahead and began making some ground on him.

Nearing the finish of the 1981 Melbourne Marathon
(2nd, 2:19:30)

My club, Kew-Camberwell, traditionally manned the 40km feeding station for the "Big M" Marathons, and one of the thrills of my life remains running through a tunnel of my screaming club-mates as I closed in on the tiring Andy.  Alas, I left my run too late and finished 27 seconds behind him in 2:19:30.

The postscript to this story is that Andy turned down the winner's prize of an all expenses paid trip to run in the 1982 Boston Marathon, and it was passed to me.  He had been the two previous years and apparently didn't feel the need to go again.  It was very generous of him to let me have the trip, and I took extra pleasure in watching his accomplishments in subsequent years.

Bacchus 12000

Griffith today

A race which lives large in my memory, and probably in the memory of many 1970/80s runners, was the Bacchus 12000, a 12km race held at Griffith in the NSW Riverina every Easter.  Griffith is in the centre of a wine-growing area, and in those days, marijuana growing and organised crime as well.  Local identity and anti-drugs campaigner, Donald Mackay, disappeared in May 1977 from Griffith and his body has never been found.  One of my memories from the time is of vast vineyards with long driveways and Italianate mansions.  It was definitely a place of the 1970s.

Runners travelled from the cities of Melbourne and Sydney for the race because of the valuable prizes offered, generally airfares to the US.  Many camped at a local recreation ground designated for the purpose, and I can remember a youthful student, Rob De Castella, camping there having driven up in his old Peugeot.  Race day itself always seemed very hot and dry and the course included exposed gravel roads and a tough climb.  The field was always very high quality and would have done justice to any Australian distance-running championship.  I don't remember ever doing very well there.

The Kew Camberwell Athletic Club encampment at
Griffith prior to the 1979 Bacchus 12000

The first year we went, the post-race function was held in a winery and turned into a sort of Bacchanalian Feast, which didn't do much credit to the running fraternity.  In subsequent years, the organisers wisely held the function outdoors at the race finish, although that still ran some risks.  All finishers received a bottle of local specially-labelled port, and one year my club had a special event which was won by whoever was the first to finish their bottle of port (and keep it down for an hour) after running the race.  I'm a non-drinker, so didn't participate, but recall my brother came second.

My club, Kew Camberwell, usually had a large contingent of runners and partners attending, and apart from some running and the race itself, we spent our time playing pick-up cricket and soccer matches on the recreation field where we were camped, visiting wineries and patronising the local clubs.  I remember one hard-fought soccer match, played the day before the race, resulting in one of our best runners dislocating his shoulder after a rough tackle.  To the amazement of our colleagues from the Glenhuntly running club, camped nearby, we continued with our game after arranging for one of the girls to take the injured runner to the local hospital.

The victorious team, after a Kew Camberwell intra-club
pick-up cricket match at Griffith just prior to the 1979
Bacchus 12000

Another often-told story related to a year when the prize of a US return airfare was to be a lottery drawn from the first ten finishers in the race.  It was a very hot year, and one of our best runners was coming 10th as the race passed through some suburban streets approaching the finish.  Another member of our club was a little way behind in 11th place and noticed his club-mate ahead begin weaving all over the road before collapsing unconscious in the gutter with heat exhaustion.  The trailing runner had to make a quick decision about whether to stop and attend to his fallen friend, or continue on, now in 10th place, to the finish.  He chose the latter, but sadly didn't win the prize draw.  We all visited our dehydrated and heat-affected club-mate in hospital later, where he was kept overnight, but not until the post-race celebrations were over.  Those were the days.

For my exercise today, I just walked 5km as planned.  My joints were a bit stiff and sore after yesterday's long run, but I didn't feel very tired, which is a good sign.  The only visible cloud on the horizon before next Sunday's Melbourne Marathon, is that Sharon has a bad chest and sinus infection, and is being treated with antibiotics.  Selfishly, I hope it's not contagious.

Exotic podiums

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Anniversary

Start of the 1978 Bay to Breakers
(Central Coast Express, 31 August 1978)

Terrigal Trotters is celebrating it's 30th Anniversary today and began with a Relay Race, boys vs girls, from Gosford to Terrigal tracing the old Bay to Breakers Fun Run course.  I wasn't part of the team, which consisted of eleven runners, each running a one kilometre leg, but I was helping with the organisation and this required being in Terrigal before 4:30am this morning.

The teams were handicapped to ensure a close finish and were hoping to beat the times posted in the 20th Anniversary Relay and the respective men's and women's records for the old race.  The race started around 5:20am in Gosford and the finishers were cheered into the car park at Terrigal Surf Club around 6:00am by the 100 or so runners assembled for the regular 6:00am Trotters Saturday morning run.  The men just beat the women and the 20th Anniversary time, but neither side beat the race records.

Rob De Castella on his way to victory
(Central Coast Express, 31 August 1978)

I actually ran in the old Bay to Breakers 35 years ago, so before Terrigal Trotters actually formed.  I can't remember why I journeyed from Melbourne up to Gosford to run, but it wasn't with any expectations of winning prizes.  Although I was a competent Fun Runner, I was rarely on the podium, and particularly not in races where the prizes included overseas air travel as was the case for this race in 1978.

As it turned out, I was a long way behind Rob De Castella who won in 32:24 for the 11km distance.  Rob went on to a stellar marathon career, including a World Championship win in 1983.  I finished in 18th place in 36:00, which would have seemed disappointing at the time, but seems very fast to me now.

1978 Bay to Breakers results
(Central Coast Express, 31 August 1978)

After this morning's Relay, we all set off for the 15km run to the top of Kincumba Mountain and return.  I had a couple of puffs of Ventolin before starting in the hope that it would facilitate my breathing after a couple of tough days with a tight chest.  It did seem to help but my legs remained heavy and I still felt off-colour, possibly not helped by the early start to the day.  Anyway, I persevered and tried to maintain a reasonable pace for the whole run, despite a very sore right Achilles, and finished happy that I had made the distance.

It will be a late night tonight, with further Trotters Anniversary celebrations, so I will have an easy day tomorrow and hope that I'm up for a long run on Monday morning.  I really don't want the minor health problems of the past week to derail my plan for returning to fitness, and that means getting in a long run in the next two days.

Never give up

Bill running in the 2006
Bay to Bay 12km Fun Run

I was a little anxious about how this morning's run would go after the running Six at Six last night, but wanted to go a decent distance to compensate for missing the originally planned long run yesterday.  So after the Thursday morning track session at The Haven, I set out to run my regular 16km course.  My legs were dead, and it felt like I needed new shock absorbers in my joints, but I plodded around at a slow pace, keeping myself going with the thought of a muffin and milkshake reward at the end.  My right arch was sore on the downhills and my right Achilles was sore on the uphills so that added to my misery, but I don't think either of these injuries is bad enough to stop my return to full training in the next few weeks.

I feel a sense of sadness today, because a much-respected Terrigal Trotter died yesterday after a relatively brief illness.  Bill had had a good innings, as they say, reaching his late eighties, but even a few months ago he seemed destined to keep recording his Saturday morning runs at Trotters for another few years yet (he was up to 658!).

In his mid-eighties, Bill was a regular at my Tuesday evening track sessions on the grass track in Gosford.  He was exasperated with how much speed he had lost in the previous few years, and annoyed that he wasn't making the official cut-off times in races that mattered to him.  We decided that it would be a good idea for him to focus on shorter repetitions, 200m and 300m, in the hope of improving his form, stride length and speed.  He was still quite capable of completing the regular Trotters Saturday morning runs, so stamina and determination weren't the issues.

Each week he would come down to the track and run his repetitions as fast as he could, which wasn't very fast.  I would see him coming down the straight, going as hard as he could, often leaning slightly sideways, with little kids from Frank's squad flying past him - the eight year olds vs the eighty year old.  As he crossed the line each time, he would fumble with his watch trying to press the stop button.  Sometimes, this would take up to ten seconds, and then he would struggle to read it and tell me his time for recording.  Almost invariably, he would be dissatisfied, and would "harrumph" disgustedly before trudging off across the ground to begin his next repetition.

He was everything I want to be in my eighties.  Determined not to give in easily to old age, unwilling to accept the standards society seeks to impose on octogenarians, and living his life to the full.  He knew, and we knew, that he couldn't go on forever, but that doesn't make it any less sad that he has gone.

Why trail running

A group of Terrigal Trotters running the Patonga-
Little Wobby trail loop in 2012

The night after a long hard run is often punctuated by sudden awakenings with cramp or sore joints, and last night was no different.  My right knee, in particular, was sore, and my right arch as well.  After going through my morning usual exercises I felt a little more flexible and later went for a 5km walk.  The arch injury is definitely a little worse after yesterday's run, but not that bad that I'm contemplating time off running.  I'll try an easy 10km tomorrow and then play it by ear for the rest of the week, though optimally, I would like to do another easy long run on Wednesday as part of my program to regain lost fitness.

The Terrigal Trotters Facebook page was humming with comment about yesterday's trail run last night and today, most of it good-natured banter about those runners who lost their way at some point.  The growth in the popularity of trail running in recent years has been dramatic, and I often ponder on its drivers.

Another stop on the Patonga-Little Wobby loop

Is it a reaction to our claustrophobic urban life?  We live in an artificial environment, usually within the sound and sight of neighbours and traffic, and our training runs are through busy suburban settings.  I think there is something within many of us, maybe a kind of primeval instinct, that wilderness satisfies.  Almost a sense of belonging.  Trail-running evokes a sense of space and purity and an appreciation for the wild.  It rejuvenates the spirit, but also reminds us how small and transient we are in the scheme of things.  Running over mountains, through old growth forests and past ancient rock formations puts us in our place, as well as inspiring awe.

Sometimes a bit of swimming is involved
in trail running (also on the Patonga-Little
Wobby loop)

Maybe we have an unsatisfied need to face challenges and unknowns that have disappeared from our routine and molly-coddled lives?  I think the popularity of fun runs and marathon running grew out of a desire to test ourselves, realise our potential, and find our boundaries in a society where risks are minimised and physical challenges rare.  As these events have become commonplace and conquerable, runners have looked for something more.  There is a satisfaction in completing a run or event through an environment where dangers lurk, and help is far away.  Not so much the dangers from wildlife, which are generally minor, but the risks from falls, uncompromising terrain, weather conditions, navigation and inadequate nutrition and hydration.  There is seldom a trail run involving a group of people that does not yield adventures and stories of obstacles overcome.

Perhaps it's something as simple as trail-running being less damaging to the runner's body?  That's not to say that it's easy, but in trail running, there is a tendency to run slower and to have the footfall, muscle and joint demands vary with each step.  It's more of an all-round physical work-out, but not as tough on specific parts of the body.  In long road runs, the exact same footfall is repeated with every step, as is the very specific impact on muscles and joints.

Whatever the reason or reasons, I think trail running is here to stay, for very good reasons.

Getting out the door

The Bouddi Coastal Path

The day didn't start too well.  I was still processing Great North Walk 100s entries after midnight and didn't finish and get to bed until 1:30am.  After sleeping in to 8:00am, I woke to discover I had made an error in the payment details emailed to successful entrants and needed to send out a correction, and deal with emails and calls from those who had already tried to pay.  Ultra-runners are a friendly bunch, and fortunately everybody was understanding about my stuff-up.

Feeling a bit under the weather after such a long day yesterday and the late start and problems of this morning, I wasn't enthused by the thought of a late morning run, especially a longer one as planned.  Nevertheless, around 11:00am, on a beautiful warm and sunny day, I dragged myself out the door and set off for an easy 22km run following a course that gave multiple options for short-cuts if I felt bad, or my right arch was hurting too much.

Just a small section of the Maitland
Bay steps

The course incorporated some quiet roads and trails, much of it in the nearby Bouddi National Park.  As discussed in an earlier post, Small Explorations, I find that choosing a course with some interest is a good way of dealing with the "I really don't want to go for a run" problem.  My chosen route incorporated some stiff climbs, including the stairs up from Maitland Bay, but I took it slowly, enjoying the weather and stopping briefly a couple of times to take in the views (and once to help some tourists).  Some new blisters had developed during the City to Surf run on Sunday, a product of the new orthotic insoles I was wearing, so for today I reverted to the original insoles supplied with the shoes.  I was conscious of some occasional pain in my right arch, but it wasn't serious and I finished the run thinking that I will now stick with these insoles.

I finished tired and sweaty, with aching legs, but know this is what I need - some long steady runs that will help me regain the form I was enjoying a couple of months ago.  We have a 42km Terrigal Trotters trail run scheduled for Sunday, and this morning's run gives me confidence I'll be able to go the distance.  The wisdom of going for the run, even though I really didn't want to, was confirmed.

In my opinion, this is one of the testing times for all serious runners.  That is, forcing yourself to go for training runs when you really, really, don't want to.  It's worth persevering.  Not only do you get a training benefit from the run in question, but the experience goes into your psychological "bank".  That is, you gain self-confidence and self-respect by knowing that you can make yourself do things that other runners would not, and it becomes easier to get out for a run the next time it seems too much trouble.

Today's run finished around the edges of Cockrone Lagoon

I can recall a particular training run, sometime in the late 1970s, when I was working full-time and doing my Masters part-time.  It was a miserable wet and dark winter's Wednesday evening.  A tutorial at the University after work meant I didn't get home until about 7:30pm.  My training program (I was running over 200km per week) called for a 35km road run that evening.  Though hungry and desperate to have the night off running, I forced myself out the door and set off through the Melbourne suburbs, a lonely figure splashing along the dark footpaths.  Somewhere in the middle of that run, when I was passing through an industrial area in light drizzle, the thought suddenly came to me that few, if any, other runners in Australia would have been willing to do this run.  The thought buoyed me for the rest of the run.  I realised that I may not have the talent of some of my fellow marathon competitors, but I was sure none of them was training harder.

This is an exaggeration, of course.  There are many athletes, not all of them "elite", who force themselves to go out on training runs when they would rather be doing something else.  They will know what I'm talking about.

Day off

Delivering the pre-race briefing before the 2012 Great
North Walk 100s trail races

I never did manage to get out for a run or walk today, but I doubt that has done me any harm, given that I was stiff and sore last night after the City to Surf.  My right arch has been occasionally painful, but it's hard to know whether it is any worse for the weekend's running.
I was planning an easy day anyway, but the opening at 6:00am of entries for the Great North Walk 100s (GNW100s) trail races, for which I'm the Race Director, left me with a lot of processing and a reason to stay at my desk. 

What was already going to be a busy day, wasn't helped by a power cut in late afternoon, and I still have many entries to review as I update this blog.  Of course, we could pay for online entry processing, but given the small size of the field we'll accept (200 entries), the cost per entry is excessive.  Additionally, the extreme nature of the event, I like to try and review the entry qualifications of each applicant before accepting them.

The event is a labour of love, so I don't mind the extra work.  This will be the 9th running, and although there are times I regret ever having started it, I generally think it has been a worthwhile project for my retirement.  The relish the participants show for the challenge and the enthusiasm with which my Terrigal Trotters clubmates support the event is very rewarding.

While I was working full-time, I seldom had the time to help at community or sporting events.  Now I'm retired, I have the opportunity to make up for those years, and I'm lucky enough to have a number of running-related activities that I enjoy helping, including organising the GNW100s.

City to Surf

Waiting for the City to Surf start
  

It was a good day, and a frustrating day.  I journeyed into Sydney this morning for the annual 14km City to Surf Fun Run with my fellow Terrigal Trotters in a convoy of two minibuses after a 5:00am pick-up.  We had a very enjoyable day, along with 85,000 others, in excellent Sydney winter weather - cool to start, but sunny and warm by mid-morning.

Most of my club-mates ran very well, exceeding or meeting their goal times, and I was pleased for them.  It's not an easy race, and you have to prepare well and hang in there, to get a good time.  I don't think I did either particularly well.  Of course, I've only been back running for two weeks and only done any significant training this week, so I can rationalise my 63:03 time (4:30 mins/km) as about right for my fitness.  However, I didn't enjoy it.  From the start, where we stood around for over an hour in the cool morning air, I did not feel like I was travelling well.  My sore right arch hurt a bit, and my running form was poor, maybe partly due to the tempo run yesterday that left me a little stiff and sore.

Heading through the tunnel

I steadily lost ground to those around me early on, and kept telling myself that once I warmed up I would catch them on the hills later.  This never really happened.  I was still feeling rough up the major climb at half-way, and then just tried to relax on the run in to iconic Bondi Beach.  I never checked my watch en route, and was a little worried that my time would be slower than the 70 minutes required to qualify for the Red Start next year.  However, as it turned out, I was well inside that time, but I never threatened my usual Trotters' rivals, who all ran very well.

Bondi Beach

I don't think there's any way of avoiding these tough comeback runs, really.  You somehow have to get from doing nothing to good form and somewhere between the two are going to be some runs where you feel frustrated and unfit.  I just have to keep my eye on the main goal and not stress about these runs.

Some long easy runs would help me get fit more quickly, but I'm worried that my arch injury is still causing some pain and it might be unwise to test it further at the moment.  I will have an easy day tomorrow and then decide what is wise training for the balance of the week.

Fun Runs

I preferred the smaller Fun Runs with uncrowded
starts and a good chance of prizes and/or glory

Tomorrow is the annual City to Surf 14km Fun Run and there are more than thirty Trotters making the journey to join 85,000 other runners for the run from Sydney to Bondi Beach.  I entered some time ago, before I injured my arch, and a few weeks ago had given up on the idea of running.  However, the arch has definitely improved in the last two weeks and I will join my club-mates tomorrow.  This will be only the second time I have run City to Surf, and I never ran it whilst in my running prime.

I always considered I lacked the basic speed necessary to do well in the mass participation Fun Runs, though I did surprise myself (and a few other people) once with a third place in the 1981 13km Melbourne Exacto Team Trot (39:28).  Even with an "elite" start, and I rarely got those, you had to run very fast from the start to avoid being swamped by runners who then slowed dramatically after a few hundred metres.  Without an elite start, you had to line up for an hour or more to get a good spot on the starting line, thus ruling out any kind of a warm-up or last-minute toilet visit, neither conducive to a good performance.  Then, if you dealt with these issues and got away well at the gun, you would see "bandits" pouring out of the side streets ahead of you during the first kilometre.  Just about the last straw for me was an event (I think it was one of the old Sun Superuns that went over the Westgate Bridge in Melbourne), where I had managed to get a reasonable start then saw one of my club-mates, a better-performed 10km runner than me, appear from a side alley about 500 metres after the start and join the field about fifty metres in front of me.  I never did catch him.

I developed an aversion to the mass participation Fun Runs, though was always happy to run in the minor ones where the start wasn't a problem and there was a chance of prizes and/or glory.  A bigger fish in a smaller pond.

The City to Surf isn't high on my priority list as a runner, but it will be an enjoyable day with my club-mates, and it will be inspiring to see so many people out running on what promises to be a beautiful Sydney winter morning.  Not having any expectations about my performance, and happily resigned to taking it easy in the early kilometres, I will just cruise and be entertained.

Terrigal Trotters generally schedule an "easier" Saturday morning run when there is a big running event the next day, such as the City to Surf.  This morning's, "Marg's Meander", barely qualified as easy.  Early on there is a lung-busting hill that really blows away any cobwebs, and later in the 11.5km course, there are a few smaller hills to keep you honest.  I started gently so as not to aggravate my right arch injury and then, after the first hill, just tried to maintain a comfortable tempo pace whilst avoiding the temptation to chase the runners I could see ahead.  The latter became academic after 8km as my lack of training caught up with me.

I finished feeling very tired, unfit, coughing and out-of-breath.  About the best thing that could be said about the run was that my sore arch seemed to handle it OK.  I have had a bit of a cough the last few days, so I hope I'm just dealing with a minor cold.  On the other hand, because I associated it with a developing pattern of headaches, I stopped taking asthma medication a few weeks ago and I definitely felt I was wheezing a bit on the hills and later in the run.  Of course, it's probably just the cold and lack of fitness, but like all serious runners, there's a lot of self-analysis going on.

No Visa

Smolensk Fortress Wall

Occasionally, it's been necessary to carry my passport when out running, but there was another time I should have and didn't.

In July and August of 1975, we were on a driving and camping trip behind the Iron Curtain in Europe.  The trip had taken a lot of organising with almost all campsites, compulsory currency exchanges and visas booked many months in advance.  Another couple, Kerry and Gerry, travelling in their own vehicle, joined us for journey through the USSR.  Kerry, a runner I had met while we were both in the Army doing our National Service, and I were entered the historic Enschede Marathon in The Netherlands at the end of August so were both keen to keep training while we travelled and frequently went for a run after our day’s driving and sightseeing.

Enschede Marathon mementos

For longer runs in the USSR, this was a challenge.  Maps were difficult to obtain (the Cold War was still raging and the Soviets just didn’t publish many maps) and frequently inaccurate when we did manage to get one.  We always had trouble locating the campgrounds because the sketch maps were simply wrong and couldn’t be trusted.  Nobody spoke English, and we didn’t speak any Russian, so asking for directions was problematic.  Runners were a rarity, and we didn’t see anybody else out running during our entire time behind the Iron Curtain.  The police were ubiquitous.

Unless there was an obvious running route from the campground, we tended to retrace our steps to the main road and then run out-and-back.  We didn’t want to end up being chased by farm dogs or finding ourselves somewhere we shouldn’t be.  On this particular day, after a lot of difficulty, we found our booked campground (they were few and far between) in a rural area on the northern outskirts of Smolensk (they were always waiting to check us in, and on a couple of occasions when we were late reaching our booked campgrounds, were quite upset about our late arrival).  After setting up camp, Kerry and I set out for an evening 20km run along the main road.  It wasn’t easy running as the road shoulder was rough and rocky and the road busy with noisy fume-belching trucks, but we had little choice.  After about 8km a car swept past us at high speed, braked in a cloud of dust and executed a speedy U-turn before pulling up right in front of us.  All four doors opened in unison and four guys in civilian clothing jumped out and waved us to stop.

Enschede Marathon 30km Feeding
Station (finished 91st in 2:59)

One of them started talking to us in Russian, which we didn’t understand at all.  The more it became obvious we couldn’t understand them, the more frustrated they became.  The temperature of the interrogation rose and soon they were all shouting at us.  It was very intimidating.  The only word we could grasp was “Visa”.  Of course, we hadn’t brought our Visas or passports with us on the run and were trying to get that point across.  I spoke a little German, which is understood by some people in western Russia, but this was of no use.

As it became apparent to them that we didn’t have our Visas with us, they began arguing amongst themselves.  My interpretation was that two of them wanted to take us to the police station and the other two just wanted to go home, or wherever.  After a few minutes of arguing, the “go home” faction won and they returned to their car, executed another dusty U-turn and raced away into the distance.  Bemused, and a little shaken, Kerry and I continued our run.

My right arch was more painful when I got up this morning, after yesterday's run with just the regular shoe insoles.  Fortunately, the new orthotic insoles I had ordered online arrived yesterday and they are much more suited to running than the previous orthotic insoles, weighing 100 grams less.  I used them for an easy 10km run this morning and they seemed to do the job.  I have some niggles and my calf muscles are tight after yesterday, but I think I'll be OK to run 10km at Trotters tomorrow morning and the 14km City to Surf Fun Run on Sunday.

Another running anecdote

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

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

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ST VALENTINE'S DAY DEBACLE

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




Out for a jog in San Francisco more recently.

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

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




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

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

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

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

Small explorations

Wednesday, 19 June 2013

My usual training regime has been a bit messed up this week because I postponed my long run until Monday and helped at the Bay to Bay Fun Run on Sunday.  The pattern I prefer is recovery days on Monday, Wednesday and Friday, with quality sessions on Tuesday and Thursday.  Having missed the quality session yesterday I decided to run a little further and faster today and mapped out a 14km course with three tough climbs.



There was no shortage of public footpaths and country lanes
to run along when we lived in Chorleywood

Motivation was in short supply so I picked a route that let me check out a potential new trail that I had spied on Google Maps running between Avoca Beach and Kincumber.  I love maps and spend a lot of time perusing them and thinking of potential running routes that might be interesting.  In my experience, the best place for finding interesting routes to run is England where the network of historic public footpaths augments the plethora of country lanes.  When we lived in Chorleywood, outside London in the Chiltern Hills, I had a totally different morning run course for each day of the week, each of them scenic delights.  Running every day can be mentally tough, especially when you get older and I'm a great believer in variety.

Anyway, I set out on this morning's 14km at a good pace and was pleased to be able to maintain my momentum the whole way, including up the three significant hills, although I was getting tired by the end, and my right knee was quite painful at times.  With a kilometre to go on an exposed road high above Copa, I was hit by a short and vicious rain squall which blew me all over the road and soaked me through.  It was cold.  During the run, I did detour a little way down the new trail I had identified on the map, but it was quite overgrown and wet.  I decided to leave tackling its full length for another day.

Bay to Bay volunteering

Sunday, 16 June 2013

Today was the annual Bay to Bay Fun Run and Half Marathon organised by Terrigal Trotters, and I had agreed to supervise a drink station at the half-way point for both events.  I wanted to be there from 6am (many of my fellow Trotter volunteers started the day much earlier than that), so it wasn’t practical to fit in a run beforehand.  Normally, I would have gone for a long run on a Sunday, but knew from experience that I would not feel like doing so today after standing around cheering on runners for three hours, so scheduled myself an easy 10km with a long run to follow tomorrow morning.



Start of the Bay to Bay 12km         Source: News Limited

With over 3,000 entrants, the Bay to Bay is a well-patronised event, and I enjoyed encouraging the runners and giving a special cheer to those I knew as they passed through, including my daughter on her way to completing her debut half marathon.  It’s inspirational watching people, many of whom are clearly not regular runners, challenge themselves to complete this event each year.

We finished packing up the drink station soon after 9:30am and it was time to get my run out of the way.  I was very unmotivated, but knew if I left it until later in the day, I wouldn’t do it.  To make it more interesting and therefore less of a chore, I employed a trick I have used in the past by choosing a course that incorporated some exploring.  It did involve climbing steeply up on to the Somersby plateau, but I took it slow and ran through some bush and parkland I hadn’t previously visited, before linking up with a fire-trail I was familiar with and then finally descending steeply back to Brisbane Water and my car.

Although it was only a slow 10km, I was surprised how tired I felt and how stiff my leg joints were.  Presumably, this was a hangover from yesterday’s run.  It must have been harder on my body than I had thought.  Tomorrow’s long run promises to be hard work.