A year on

Still moving well at the 12km mark.

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

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

Not quite so smooth at 25km.

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

Happy to finish.

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

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

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

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

Leg strength and endurance

Reaching John O'Groats at the end of my hike from
Lands End in 2010.

This morning's 11.5km run was a bit of a grind.  Having had two relatively easy days in a row, I was hoping to feel a bit fresher, but my legs remain heavy with fatigue from Monday's long road run.  The slow recovery tells me I still have some way to go to full running fitness.  I'm simplifying, but my experience is that there are really three phases to regaining fitness after an extended period off running.

Camping while hiking the length of the Australian Alps
Walking Track in 2011.

The first phase, which takes me about three weeks these days (one or two weeks when I was younger), is getting to the point where I feel like a runner again.  It requires my joints and ligaments to loosen up, and my muscles to strengthen, sufficient to regain my running posture and balance.  At the end of the phase I can run smoothly again, but have poor stamina and slow recovery.

The second phase, which now takes me a couple of months, depending on how long I had off, sees the gradual return of cardiovascular capability and muscle strength sufficient to run reasonable times and perhaps be competitive, but my leg recovery rate is poor.  I can run hard one day, or up the first hill, but it's hard to back up for the second.  It is a frustrating time because I know the fitness has in large part returned, but I am still missing something.

Crossing a Swiss mountain pass while hiking the Via
Alpina in 2012.

The third phase is full fitness.  I will know when I get there because I'll comfortably back up from a tempo run with Terrigal Trotters on a Saturday morning with a long run on the Sunday.  I will be able to run up an early hill feeling like there's another gear if I need it, and then be almost fully recovered by the next.  There will be days when I feel like I can run forever.  Amongst my club-mates, there are some in this phase.  They run confidently, knowing they are competitive and can deal with whatever terrain and challenges come their way.

Taking a break while hiking the length of the Hume & Hovell
Track in 2013.

The main factor for me in transitioning from the second to third phases, is leg strength and endurance - the ability of my legs to absorb considerable pounding over a long period.  For me, it is achieved through long miles, usually on the road, and that's why I'm persevering with long road runs, even though they are knocking me around.  There have been occasions, on return from long hiking trips, when I've started my comeback with the leg strength/endurance already there and have achieved good competitive fitness much earlier.  That's not the case this time around, and I think it will be another few months and more long runs before I get there, all going well.

Lantau Island

Lantau Island.

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

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

The Big Buddha with Lantau Peak in the background.

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

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

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

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

Black Forest

Hiking near Titisee in the Black Forest in 2012.

Revisiting remote (from home) places, will often evoke memories of those earlier visits, even if scores of years later.  There are a number of places in the world where this has happened to me and one is the Black Forest in Germany, and Titisee, in particular.

I was most recently there in May of 2012, as a hiker traversing the Black Forest as part of a three-month trek, primarily in the Alps.  As I passed through, I thought fondly back to my two previous visits, the first as a teenager in the mid-1960s travelling with my family in a campervan, and the second in August of 1975 on another camping tour of Europe.  On this latter occasion, I was also supposedly in training for the Enschede Marathon just five days later, but had found it hard to get in any long training runs in the previous couple of months while travelling behind the Iron Curtain.

Looking over Titisee towards Feldberg in the far distance.

After setting up camp beside Lake Titisee, I decided that a long training run might be in order, and set out along forest trails to run to the top of Feldberg (1493m), the highest mountain in the Black Forest, and return, a distance of about 32km.  I don't remember exactly which route I used, but I do have memories of a dull overcast day, hilly terrain, and dark forbidding conifer forests with little undergrowth, ideal for scary fairy tales.  I also remember that the peak, which is above the treeline, accessible via road and had a large communications tower on top, was covered in cloud and seemed quite eerie with nobody about.  No views either, of course.

Crossing the line in the 1975 Enschede Marathon
(91st, 2:59).

I didn't hang around in the cold, and returned to Lake Titisee via the same route, reaching the campsite three hours later somewhat the worse for wear, ominously for the upcoming marathon.  In the race, I managed 91st place in 2:59, my worst marathon to date at the time, and resolved not to run another marathon without training properly.

After yesterday's tempo run, which left me with the usual sore right Achilles tendon, and some stiffness, I decided to just run an easy 10km today in the hope that I will be fresher for a long road run tomorrow.  I didn't get out until late morning when it was quite warm and felt lethargic and rough.  However, that's quite often the way when it's a bit warm and you didn't really want to go for a run anyway.

Annual gardening

The fire-trail through Wambina
Nature Reserve.

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

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

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

Overgrown trail.

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

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

Cleared trail.

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

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

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

Quandary

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bogong to Hotham

Some fellow runners at the summit of Mount Bogong
early in the 2005 Bogong to Hotham race.

The Bogong to Hotham trail race has a history dating back to 1984, and in relative terms, I am a newcomer, having run it for the first time in 2005.  However, as discussed in other posts, I have run numerous times on the Bogong High Plains and feel a special affinity for the race, especially now the Race Director is Andy Hewat, an ultrarunner and friend for whom I have great respect.  He stepped in to revive the iconic race when it was in some trouble a few years ago and it has prospered with him at the helm.

Mount Bogong (1986m) is the highest mountain in Victoria and Mount Hotham (1864m) lies at the opposite (southern) end of the Bogong High Plains making it an attractive challenge to run, or ski, between them.  An early skier, Charles Derrick, died of exposure in 1965 while trying to ski between the two when caught in a blizzard, adding to the legend of the course.

Most of the finishers of the 2005 Bogong to Hotham race.

There are several aspects of the race which I find hard to resist.  The first, as mentioned, is the history I have with the area, having hiked and run there since the early 1970s.  Many of the trails and mountains are evocative of past trips, runs and friends, dating from the times when we were young, fit and carefree.

The course is challenging in terms of both topography and meteorology.  You can get very tired very quickly on the precipitous climbs and endless tussocky plains, and the weather can be intimidating and debilitating.  However, the snow gum forests, alpine grasslands and the roaring Big River, have a remote wilderness feel to them, with brumbies plentiful and the views spectacular.

Nowadays, perhaps the most appealing aspect to me that it is a race for serious runners.  There is a cut-off point at Langfords Gap, 35km into the 64km race, of six hours.  This may seem easy, but it is not unless you are a good trail runner.  It has always been a challenge for me and I have just made it on two occasions and would have missed it on a third but for the race being cancelled because of diabolical weather.  No runners were allowed to proceed beyond Langford Gap and I was saved embarrassment.  There are other cut-offs, but this is the one that counts.

During the weather-shortened 2012
Bogong to Hotham race.

The run actually starts at the base of Mount Bogong, so it must initially be climbed along the almost completely runnable Staircase Spur before setting out for Hotham.  Being someone who fancies himself as a hill runner, I have usually gone out too hard and run as much of the climb as I can.  Thereafter comes a technical run along an exposed ridge before a steep descent through forest to the Big River Crossing which must be waded, sometimes necessarily hanging onto a wire cable for safety.  The steep switch-backing climb from Big River up Duane Spur to the treeline has often been my nemesis.  On several occasions I have reached the top too tired to pick up the pace along the relatively easy firetrail across the open High Plains and nearly missed the Langfords cut-off.

There is a different challenge after Langfords when you encounter a narrow tussocky trail for many kilometres, marked every forty metres by numbered snow poles.  It is barely a shoe-width wide and exhausting to try and land on the path with every step.  When you stray off, as you must, the risk of sprained ankles and strained muscles on the rough tussocks increases exponentially, exacerbating fatigue.  Compounding your misery can be the snow pole numbers, decreasing ever so slowly (No. 1 is near the Hotham summit), and reminding you of how far you still have to go.

During the weather-shortened 2912
Bogong to Hotham race.

There is a final helter skelter technical descent to cross the Cobungra River, this time on a footbridge, before a crushing ascent up Swindlers Spur, little of which I have ever run.  From the top of this climb, Mount Hotham seems tantalisingly close, but it's very deceptive and must be reached via a semi-circular route before a last climb to the summit cairn and the finish.  Usually it's very cold there and the joy of finishing is quickly replaced by the need to find warm clothing and shelter.

A final challenge can be the bus ride down the long switch-backed road from Mount Hotham during which the gastrointestinal fortitude of many runners, including myself, have been tested.

Today, I just ran a very easy 10km, recovering from yesterday's harder run and resting up for a trail run tomorrow.

Paddy's River Dam

Paddy's River Dam.

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

On the trail in Bago State Forest.

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

Forestry Road in Bago State Forest.

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

On the Hume & Hovell Track.

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

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

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

Kosciusko

Looking down the Thredbo River valley towards
the village.

As mentioned in yesterday's blog post, Sharon and I are heading for the mountains tomorrow and are hoping to enjoy a few trail runs.  They won't be at an altitude sufficient to impact running, but it will be less humid and cooler than the Central Coast of the past few months.  I find cooler temperatures always make running more enjoyable as does running in the mountains.

Looking towards Mount Kosciusko.

The mountains in Australia aren't that high, by global standards.  But, on the positive side, they tend to have runnable trails to their summits, providing scenic routes for inspiring running.  The ski resort of Thredbo, in Kosciusko National Park, offers a number of running options, of which my favourite is a 45km route that includes a visit to the summit of Mt Kosciusko (2,221m), Australia's highest mountain.

The steel mesh track to Mount Kosciusko.

The run starts in the Thredbo Village and follows the Thredbo River Track upstream, initially past the golf course and then through a mix of alpine forest and open clearings to a saddle, Dead Horse Gap.  A right turn takes you onto the Dead Horse Gap Trail, an occasionally technical single track which climbs above the treeline along a rocky spur.  If the weather is clear, there are beautiful views in multiple directions.  Near the top of the spur, the trail goes close to the Thredbo Chairlift Top Station and joins the main trail from there towards Kosciusko.  To preserve the alpine environment, nearly all of the next four kilometres is along an elevated steel walkway, with signs at either end prohibiting running.  If you start early enough, you will beat the first chairlift tourists of the day and have the place to yourself on this outward leg and be able to run without the risk of causing annoyance to hikers.  If later, however, you have to make a judgment about whether or not you will get into trouble.

The panorama from Mount Kosciusko.

Soon after the mesh pathway ends, about 14km into the run, the turn-off to the summit of Kosciusko is reached and it's worth making the 2km (there and back) detour to enjoy one of the best views in Australia.  Returning to the Main Range Track, which follows the alpine ridge to the north-east, more spectacular vistas stretch in all directions, and particularly over the precipitous descent towards the Geehi River to the north-west.  At around 23km, another right turn is made to descend steeply towards Blue Lake and Charlotte Pass, all above the tree-line.  There is a short steep climb from the Snowy River up to the Pass where the old road back towards Kosciusko is reached and followed gradually upwards back to the steel mesh pathway.

The Main Range Track.

Depending on the hiker traffic, it may be necessary to walk the pathway back to the Chairlift Top Station, but from there a steep and often technical descent, criss-crossing the ski runs, is made on single track back to Thredbo and the end of the run.  It's a long run, and much of it is at an altitude high enough to impact oxygen levels, but it provides some of the best scenery available in Australia on a clear day.

I took no chances with the minor hip trouble I had yesterday, and walked an easy 5km on a blustery and showery day around Copa this morning.  The hip didn't bother me at all, and I'm hopeful that after another day of walking tomorrow I will be up for a long trail run the day after.

Minor disappointment

Descending into Erina Valley along Worthing Road.

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

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

Hastings Road always presents
some challenges.

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

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

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

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.

Grand Canyon

Sharon and I ran to the floor of the Grand Canyon
and back in 2012.  Starting down on Bright Angel Trail.

Although still not feeling great, my 11km run this morning went better than yesterday's and I'm feeling a little more positive about life.  I found it harder than the same run last Thursday, but sense improvement and think I'll be recovered enough to run with Terrigal Trotters's this coming Saturday morning and maybe even get in a long gentle trail run on Sunday or Monday.

In fitter days (1986), I wrote the article below for my running club newsletter
======================================================================
THE GRAND CANYON - AS TOUGH AS IT LOOKS!   Letter from Dave Byrnes

The Colorado River at the base of the Grand Canyon.

No runner can stand on the rim of the awesome, mile deep, Grand Canyon in Arizona without wondering if they could run down to the Colorado River and back again.  Prior to arrival, I hadn’t planned such a journey but a look down in the Canyon and a quick check of a map kindled my interest and I resolved to make the attempt before I left.  I'm sure many runners had preceded me, and I know there is an annual 'ultra' which runs from the South Rim to the North Rim and return (a forty mile, eight hour plus epic), yet there was still an immense challenge to contemplate. 

Encountering a mule train on the ascent up
the South Kaibab Trail.

The course I planned to follow involved a four mile, gradually uphill, run along the South Rim road from our campsite to the South Kaibab trailhead at 7300 ft; a steep descent along the trail (4900 ft in a little over six miles) to the Colorado River; a couple of miles downstream by the river on the other bank; an ascent of 4600 ft in just under eight miles along the Bright Angel trail; and finally, one and a half miles back to camp (also uphill).  The total distance was to be a little over twenty-one miles and despite my failure to perform well in marathons since leaving Australia, I was confident I would make it.  The real challenge of the run was to be an ascent up Bright Angel without stopping and I mulled over my chances as I set out before sunrise on a clear, cold Sunday morning.  Almost immediately, I regretted the intense physical activity of the previous three days that had seen Barb and I hiking, cycling and running around various parts of the National Park.  Fortunately, we had become accustomed to training at altitudes up to 10,000 ft during our travels, but resting up for long runs had not been one of our priorities.

Further up the South Kaibab Trail ascent.

I decided to throttle back as I ran along the Rim and focussed instead on the magnificent sunrise that was gradually illuminating the brilliant orange/pink cliffs of the Canyon.  Out of the sun, the temperature was still well below freezing and I was glad of my gloves and Goretex top.  After half an hour, I reached the trail head and paused briefly to wonder at the sanity of the venture - at least running downhill would be easy.  From the Rim, you could not even see the Colorado River, only the shadow of the smaller canyon on whose floor it flowed.  The Kaibab Trail zig-zagged its way down an almost sheer drop and I set off gingerly on the ice-¬covered surface; being particularly careful on the tight corners.  Even after the ice disappeared at lower altitudes, the going was slow because of the steepness and frequent turns.  The surface was a curious mixture of rocks and green dust, the latter composed of dust created by the mule trains coloured by their manure.  Lovely.

The top at last.  The South Kaibab Trailhead.

Mule trains are common on the trails and National Park rules require all pedestrians to stop completely if they meet with one.  Apparently, mules are easily spooked and may dash over a precipice carrying an unfortunate tourist.  I met a train on the descent just before reaching the river.  After crossing the Colorado on a suspension bridge, I climbed down to a sandy beach to ceremonially dip my hand in the broad, green, fast-flowing river.  It was just over an hour since I had left the rim, and I had a little less than two hours to complete the ascent in order to achieve my other goal of under three hours rim-to-rim.  I crossed the river on another bridge after stopping for a quick drink near the Ranger station at Bright Angel Camp.  I was feeling good - a result of much more oxygen (a mile lower) and the relatively level river trail that crossed some sand dunes.  I began surprising bushwalkers, who had camped on the canyon floor overnight, from behind which is always a bit of fun.  The trail turned away from the river and began climbing gradually along a small canyon.  The pace was steady and I was doing it easy.  Passing the hikers was exhilarating, but I was forgetting that the ascent was concave with the steepest parts near the end.  I reached Indian Gardens, four and a half miles and 3000 ft from the rim with an hour to go and feeling a bit weaker.  Two and a half miles later, I met a mule train descending and was forced to stop for the first time on the ascent.  Damn.  Feeling distinctly tired, I set off jogging again on the steepening trail and half an hour later met another one.  This time on resuming, I was exhausted.  I couldn’t believe how sapped I felt as I staggered on for another half mile before I had to stop and walk.  The trail was now zig-zagging up almost sheer faces and I even had trouble getting forward momentum to walk.  I looked anxiously at my watch and resolved to walk 50, jog 200 to the top.  It soon changed to walk 50, jog 50, but I made it to the rim, groggy, but with ten minuted to spare.

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.

Imagination?

Murray River.

Most of today was spent driving the 1,000km from Melbourne back to Copa.  I was on the road by 5:00am, after a night during which I woke several times.  I suspect the real reason for the disturbed sleep was that I knew I had an early start, but each time I woke, I found myself lying there, very conscious of my heartbeat and trying to determine whether the beat was regular.

After my 5km run yesterday morning, I was checking my pulse and it seemed that there was a double beat about every 20 to 30 seconds, although it could have been my imagination.  I hadn't experienced any breathlessness or palpitations while running, but nevertheless I'm now a bit worried that the double beat, if it's real, signals the early stages of the return of my Atrial Flutter.

Bike path along the Murray.

As I drove north along the Hume Highway in pre-dawn darkness, I wondered about the wisdom of running again today.  However, after three hours of driving and feeling a little tired, I stopped in Albury and set out along a bike path by the Murray River.  It was a pleasantly cool morning and I was pleased to feel more like a runner than earlier in the week, though somewhat apprehensive.  I wasn't running hard, but was moving faster with less stiffness in the muscles and joints.  The faster speed meant my lungs were working a little harder, and I was breathing in on two steps and out on one, but still controlled.  Nevertheless, I was constantly self-assessing myself, looking for any sign that my heart was racing or my blood pressure dropping.

Billabong at the turnaround.

After about 3km of following the full and fast-flowing river, I reached a billabong and the end of the bike path and turned round.  It was nice to see the Murray River looking so healthy after a number of dry years.

Hovell Tree Park.

The path returned through the Hovell Tree Park, where I had finished my 440km three-week hike along the Hume & Hovell Track about ten months ago.  The Hovell Tree was marked, nearly 190 years ago, by one of the explorers after whom the walking track was named.  I could vividly remember finishing there at dusk, completely exhausted after compressing the planned last two days walk into one 50km day.  Despite my exhaustion on that last day, I had a great trip, and being there again made me wish it was a year ago when I was preparing for the trip, with no heart or lung problems in sight.  Just another reminder to make the most of my time.

I was again checking my pulse again after the run, and still wonder if there's an occasional double beat.  Generally, it seems regular and strong (and back under 50bpm at rest), but I still have a nagging concern.  I have an appointment with the cardiologist next week anyway, and he'll confirm one way or the other.  For the time being, I think I keep running daily.

The Great North Walk

A track junction on the Great North Walk.

Yesterday's Terrigal Trotters trail run was along a section of the Great North Walk (GNW), and much of today has been spent working on applications seeking approval from various authorities for the GNW100s trail race in September, for which I am Race Director.

It's one of the wonders of life, that activities or places you had little or nothing to do with for most of your life, suddenly play a big part.  It has often happened to me that places visited for races or sightseeing many years ago, unexpectedly became a big part of my life at a future date.  I had never heard of the GNW before moving to the Central Coast ten years ago, and now I'm running on it frequently (when I can run), organising trail runs on it for the Trotters, and annually directing one of Australia's biggest ultra-distance races along a large section of it.  "GNW" has become one of the most frequently used acronyms in my life.

Part of the Great North Walk in the northern part of
the Watagan Mountains.

The GNW was an Australian Bicentennial (1988) project, building on the visionary idea of a couple of bushwalkers to develop a hiking route between New South Wales' two largest cities, Sydney and Newcastle.  It stretches 250km and cobbles together existing roads and trails, along with some new walking track, and predominantly travels through forested mountains and quiet rural valleys to the west of the more settled coast.  There are camping areas and small villages along the way, and it is estimated more than 40,000 people use it each year in some capacity.  Many of them are trail runners.

The section I have come to know very well is the 175 kilometres used for the GNW100s, the trail race I direct, which stretches from Lake Macquarie in the north to Broken Bay in the south.  Apart from lovely stretches of dry eucalypt forest, there are deep gorges of stygian rainforest, caves, waterfalls, sandstone plateaus, rocky bluffs and exceptional views.  The quiet, and seemingly isolated, rural valleys of Congewai, Watagan Creek, Yarramalong and Ourimbah Creek add another dimension to a varied and interesting journey.

Falls on Kariong Creek on the Great North Walk.

The guides suggest that bushwalkers allocate 12-14 days for the end-to-end hike, while friends Meredith and Jess (elite ultrarunners and past podium finishers in the GNW100s) have run the whole 250km in 54 hours and 52 minutes.  The record for the 175km GNW100s is an astonishing 19 hours and 27 minutes, set by Brendan Davies, another friend who was 2012 Australian Ultra-Runner of the Year.

I always look forward to the trail runs, and occasional hikes or mountain bike rides, along the GNW, but also enjoy just driving around the forest roads and fire-trails and visiting remote locations, as happens every year preparing for the GNW100s.  It's easy to forget the Sydney/Central Coast/Newcastle metropolis is often just a few kilometres away from the peaceful forests and birdsong.

I walked 5km today, including a few hills that gave me no trouble.  My pulse remains regular and I'm beginning to keenly anticipate a resumption of running at the end of the week.