Strava

The Wycombe Road Hill

I felt very guilty running just 7km with the boys this morning after a 3km warm-up.  The traditional run includes an effort up one significant hill, which is logged on Strava, along with efforts up a few smaller ones.  I didn't feel that fresh warming up, but my legs didn't feel as tired as recently.  It was more a lack of flexibility and looseness that hampered my running, but I did feel stronger and neared my best time for the last few months for the climb up the Wycombe Road hill, though I have never run up it as hard as I can.

I'm only a recent convert to Strava, and really haven't got into it as much as I could.  I think there are a number of other well-known local hills I could identify as segments.  It is a bit addictive checking your own times as well as those of other Strava users on the segments, and does encourage you to try a bit harder than otherwise.

The run this morning finished with a couple of kilometres on the flat Terrigal Drive and I loped along at under 4:20/km reasonably comfortably, which was encouraging.  Hopefully, with another four days of easy training I will have loosened up some more.

A single kilometre

Single track running on
Kincumba Mountain.

This morning's Terrigal Trotters "Erina Bush" 12.5km run is yet another of my favourites.  It has a variety of terrain, including roads, trail, hills and flat, and is a true test of fitness.  I usually look forward to the run and particularly the one kilometre of very technical single track that climbs gradually through the Kincumba Mountain Reserve.

It seems strange that there's a single kilometre I look forward to in a much longer run but this little kilometre is magic.  You have to keep your wits about you to maintain a good pace while carefully picking where you put your feet.  We run it at dawn so the forest is just waking up, with a few bird calls to accompany the heavy breathing of runners.  There is a fairly solid hill before this section is reached, so it's a challenge to maintain momentum when you are already tired.  But the clincher probably is, that as a sixty-three year old, if my fitness is good, it makes me feel young and competitive again.  I'm still quite good on technical track when running hard (though I usually avoid running hard unless it's a race), and the closeness of the bush on each side of the trail makes you feel like you are running fast.  When I'm in shape, I can still match it with most of my club-mates on this section, which is then followed by one of the best gradual fire-trail descents you can find on the Central Coast.

Unfortunately, for this morning, I worked hard not to be competitive on this favourite run, because I have a 40 kilometre trail run tomorrow.  I knew that if I exhausted myself on the uphills, and pounded my body on the downhills, I would struggle tomorrow.  I held back, though still probably ran a little faster than was wise.  Tomorrow will tell the tale.

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.

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.

Etiquette

I was feeling OK this morning on Brush Road just
before the turn-around.

When it comes to running, and maybe some other things, I'm pretty "old school".  I'm skeptical about the value of "barefoot" running shoes, energy gels, low mileage and lots of other stuff.  Likewise, I have tended to look at runners who hare off at the start of social runs, or run fast down hills rather than hard up hills, as breaking some kind of running etiquette.  Of course, this is quite an arrogant perspective, and there are all sorts of reasons why runners run the way they do.  It is, after all, an individual sport.

The climb up Wycombe Road exposed
my fitness deficit.

The field for this morning's Terrigal Trotters "Keith's Run", was somewhat smaller because of members competing in The North Face trail races today or the Sydney Morning Herald Half Marathon tomorrow.  Before the start, I guessed that the pace might be slower early, and I was right.  These days, the Saturday runs are my only fast running each week, so I took the initiative and pushed the pace along a bit faster, and with a club-mate, soon broke away from the pack.  By the turn-around, we had a few hundred metres on the chasing pack and were running quickly, but I was tiring.  Soon, I let me club-mate go ahead and began concentrating on trying to maintain a good pace to the end.  A tough hill added to my fatigue and I was caught by several other club-mates over the remaining few kilometres.

After the run, several of them commented on how fast I had run this morning, but I knew that I had gone out faster at the start while they socialised, and felt guilty about getting unearned praise.  I got what I wanted, in terms of a hard, and for me, fast run, but I would have been further behind if I had run with them for the first five kilometres.

Fiji Run

Wambina fire-trail.

The Bureau of Meteorology had warned that this weekend would be the coldest for ten months, and it ominously started to drizzle while my fellow Terrigal Trotters club-mates checked in for this morning's 15km "Fiji Run", named for the palm grove passed through en route.  However, it wasn't that cold and most were wearing T-shirts as we set off at 6am in the red-tinged dawn twilight.

Part of the "Fiji Run" course.

As was the case last weekend, I may have over-committed running-wise, which is par for the course.  Tomorrow there is a Club 33km trail run, and running a tough 15km this morning was likely to make tomorrow even tougher.  Rather than test my limits, I hung back early and resolved to run the whole distance at a comfortable pace, with the goal of finishing with something left in the tank.  Despite my advanced years, I still struggle to contain my youthful enthusiasm and competitive nature, and as the run wore on, I gradually started reeling in some of those ahead of me.

Part of the "Fiji Run" course.

However, about half way, when we hit Wambina Nature Reserve and the steep climb up to the ridge, I was brought to my senses and tried to reach the top of each climb without straining and negotiated the steep technical and slippery descents carefully for fear of injury.  The last few kilometres along the road allowed me to stretch out again and I was pleasantly surprised later to find my Garmin had me averaging about 4:30 per kilometre, which is faster than I thought I was running.  I seemed to pull up OK, but tomorrow will tell the tale.

My club-mates seemed to enjoy the course, which I had cleared and marked two days ago.  It was a bit rough in parts, but the adventure of going somewhere new or rarely-visited appeals to most Trotters.

Reliving Boston 1982

I walked 5km today to give me aching joints a chance to recover after yesterday's exertions.  My right Achilles remains quite sore and concerns me a little, but hopefully the day off running will see it improved tomorrow.

The results of this year's Boston Marathon were on the news this morning, reviving memories of the two times I have competed there (1982 and 1986).  Although I have previously written blog posts about the 1982 race, I thought I would use the occasion to reprint an article I wrote for my club, Kew Camberwell, newsletter after the event.
======================================================================
BOSTON MARATHON - 1982

Crossing the line (2:22, 49th) in the
1982 Boston Marathon.

Early in February I received a telephone call from Ted Paulin at the 'Big M' Marathon Committee.  Apparently Andy Lloyd, winner of the 1981 'Big M' had declined his first prize of a trip to the 1982 Boston Marathon and as runner-up I was next in line.  Having had an Achilles operation in late November with little training since and none in the preceding three weeks I had some doubts as to whether the eleven weeks remaining to the ‘Boston' (19 April 1982) would be sufficient to get at least reasonably fit.  My surgeon gave me the green light so I mapped out a training schedule which saw me go from 0 to 120 miles per week in four weeks and totalling 1224 miles over the eleven weeks.

I took a few extra days leave and spent five days with clubmate, John, and his wife, Brenda, in California en route.  They were very interested to hear all the club news and send their regards to all their old friends.  Despite some injury problems, John is training and has recently started competing in a few fun runs.  They are living in a house in the Santa Cruz Mountains, an area not unlike the Dandenongs, where it seems to rain all the time.  In the first three months of this year they had 89" of rain (Melbourne has 26" per year) and roads were closed, rivers flooded, and landslides commonplace.  If rain wasn’t enough, John took me on some very muddy tracks and in three days I had used my entire supply of clean running gear.

The Prudential Center basement carpark
after the 1982 Boston Marathon.

From California I flew to Boston arriving four days before the race with the first vestiges of a heavy cold - the product of sunny California.  For four days I trained lightly twice daily, tried to fight off the worsening cold, watched television and attempted to read all the articles published in the press about the forthcoming marathon.  The coverage was of ‘VFL Grand Final’ proportions culminating in direct television coverage of the entire race by four different television stations.

Race day, a public holiday Monday, dawned bright and sunny and I set off by train to the Prudential Center in town from where a steady stream of buses was transporting runners to the start at Hopkinton, 26 miles away to the west.

Winner, Alberto Salazar, speaking at the medal presentation
after the 1982 Boston Marathon.

The atmosphere in Hopkinton was electric.  All roads leading into the town had been blocked by the police at 9 a.m. - 3 hours before the start - and the only motorised traffic was the buses delivering their cargoes of 'psyched-up', animated athletes.  In the town centre you could hardly move for runners and spectators whilst overhead circled four helicopters and four light planes beaming television pictures to the entire U.S.A. There were 7623 official entrants for the race plus an estimated equal number of unofficial runners (entrants must meet stiff qualifying standards before being accepted) on the narrow road for the start at midday.

The first 800 metres is steadily downhill and everyone sets off at a furious pace.  Despite holding myself back and despite it taking me 10-15 seconds to get past the starting line I still reached the first mile in 5:05.  I had resolved to run the first half of the race steadily because of the question mark over my fitness but this proved impossible.  I was literally passed by scores of runners yet went through 5 kilometres in 15:50.  It was very warm with the temperature in the low 20’s complemented by a bright sun and a slight following wind.  By 10 kilometres (32:00) I was holding my own but getting decidedly warm.  The course was lined by thousands of spectators who cheered, clapped and held out cups of water to the competitors.  For the first few miles the course passes through a series of villages which is where the crowds are at their thickest until the suburb of Wellesley is reached after eleven miles.  Here crowd support reaches new undreamt of dimensions as the runners pass the Wellesley College for women.  The girls leave a gap about one to two metres wide for the runners to pass through and scream.  If you can imagine what it is like to run quickly down a hallway lined with giant stereo speakers you may be getting close.  You start to lose touch with reality.  Unfortunately, reality just around the corner as I had feared when passing through 10 miles in 52:07.  My next seven miles were miserable as various ailments assailed me and the crowds witnessing my demise grew thicker and thicker.  By now every inch of the course was covered by onlookers often three or four deep and usually only a couple of metres apart.  At 17 miles I heard a time which indicated that at my present rate of decline I would run 2:25 or over and also that I was in approximately 130th place.

Showing off my "First Hundred" finishers
medal after the 1982 Boston Marathon.

My big ambition, apart from beating Greta Waitz, was to run in the first hundred and earn a medal.  The course now entered the Newton Hills, a series of four hills climaxing in the world-renowned Heartbreak Hill at 21 miles.  For some reason my pace began to pick up and I actually began passing people.  The heat was taking its toll and a lot at fast starters were now paying their dues.  The crowds on Heartbreak Hill were unprecedented and the noise indescribable.  To pass a runner was often difficult because of the narrow path left by the spectators who were reaching out to touch you and give you much needed cups of water.  I was really starting to motor now and set out to run the last five miles hard.  Coming down from the hills on the winding course the closeness of the crowd often meant that a runner only five metres in front of you could not be seen.  Thousands of people crowded around the last 400 metres and I found the energy to catch a few more competitors before crossing the line in 2:22:39.  My relief at the time turned to joy upon receiving a note congratulating me on being in the first hundred.  It took some hours to find out I had come 49th.

All finishers were directed into the cavernous basement car park of the Prudential Center where they could collect gear left at Hopkinton, get refreshments, have a shower and receive medical attention if necessary.  The warm conditions resulted in a lot of stretcher cases (about 600) and the underground hospital resembled a scene from the Crimean War.  The winner, Alberto Salazar, received intravenously three litres of fluid after his temperature had dropped to 88°F following the race.

Two old Kew-Camberwellians also competed in this year’s race – Trevor and Kishore – but, unfortunately, I do not have their results.

I cannot hope in this article to convey the atmosphere and excitement present at Boston. However, I do encourage all distance runners to take part in this unique event at least once for an unforgettable experience.

Pindar Cave

Climbing the trail from Wondabyne Station.

Nothing like the prospect of running somewhere new and interesting to get you out of bed in the morning.  One of my Terrigal Trotters club-mates had proposed an Easter Monday trail run with a difference, and I put my name on the list.  Nine of us met at Woy Woy Railway Station and caught the 7:23am Sydney-bound train, asking the guard to stop the train at Wondabyne as we boarded.  Wondabyne is unique, a request-only station with a platform just one carriage in length at the water's edge, accessible only by train, boat or on foot.

Looking towards the Hawkesbury River and Dangar Island
from the Pindar Cave trail.

It was clear cool and sunny as we set out from the station into Brisbane Water National Park and the chatter soon died as the steep climb took its toll.  We reached the plateau and after a kilometre, took an unmarked firetrail westwards towards Pindar Cave, a place I had never visited.

Pindar Cave.

The running became more challenging as the firetrail ended and we followed an unmaintained overgrown and scrubby foot trail.  It was narrow enough that I had to keep my head down to take the brunt of the overhanging scrub, ever ready to protect my eyes, while legs, knees and arms were scratched by prickly undergrowth.  It was dour slow running and seemed to go on forever, but it was an adventure.  There was an excellent view point en route looking south to the Hawkesbury River, and after a couple of unintended detours in the thick vegetation, we found our way to the very impressive cave, a massive sandstone overhang.  There, we surprised a family camped with a breakfast fire burning and took a break to enjoy the cavernous space, before starting the return trip.

Approaching Mount Wondabyne.

On the way out we rescued the balance of our party who had lost their way by shouting directions to help them return to the trail through the wiry scrub.  More good-natured banter.  Soon we were back on the familiar Great North Walk trail and heading eastwards towards Mount Wondabyne via a mix of technical single track, sandstone slabs, firetrail and the cool glen beneath Kariong Creek falls.

Looking down to Wondabyne Station from the top
of Mount Wondabyne.

We made the short detour to the top of Mount Wondabyne where the 360° views were exceptional.  Our starting point, Wondabyne Station, was visible way below, seemingly a stone's throw away, and it was hard to believe it had taken us so long to get to our present location.

The remainder of the run was a little ordinary, especially the sections past the Woy Woy Waste Transfer Station and the sewerage treatment plant followed by a couple of kilometres through the town, and it became quite warm.  By the time I reached my car, four hours after we had started running, I was ready to stop.  However, it was more the pain in my right Achilles and knee that were the problem rather than fatigue.  I didn't feel exhausted, and felt lucky to have enjoyed a beautiful day in the bush, visiting new places in the company of friends.  Wondabyne to Woy Woy via Pindar Cave 25km.

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.

Leon's Run

Yass Golf Club.

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

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

Glimpses of Gosford from atop Kincumba Mountain.

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

Part of the level fire-trail atop
Kincumba Mountain.

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

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

Henry Angel

The Hume & Hovell Track.

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

The Hume & Hovell Track.

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

At Big Hill Lookout.

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

Crossing Tumbarumba Creek.

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

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

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.

Garbage Runs

Gradual downhill along the Scenic Highway.

In many of my blog posts I have spoken about the "garbage runs" that all runners have as a regular part of their routine.  These are the runs you do between your quality sessions, and are often done just so that you get some daily running in.  They burn calories and keep the cardiovascular system ticking over, but aren't run hard and rarely leave you exhausted.  In my case they are usually 10-12km and have been that way throughout my 45 year running career.  Of course, in my prime there were often two "garbage runs" on "recovery" days, and at least one on "quality" days.

Stretching out along Avoca Drive.

One of my favourite "garbage runs" of the last six or seven years has been the 11km loop I run after supervising the Thursday morning track sessions at The Haven.  This morning, I was pondering why it has become a favourite, especially since at least half is along busy roads.  I think there are several factors.  The first is that it starts up a couple of quite steep hills where, because I'm not warmed up, I don't feel any pressure to run hard.  Instead, I adopt a comfortable pace, running within myself and reach the top warmed up and in good shape.  In the last decade I have noticed that it takes a hill or two to warm me up for any run, so these early hills are well-placed.

The long grind up Tramway.

The course levels out at the top of the hill, the running becomes easier and my pace increases.  After a kilometre or so comes several kilometres of gradual downhill, and by this time, being well warmed up, I generally stretch out to less than 5 min/km pace along the rural road.  It's always satisfying to feel that you're running fast (relatively), even if aided by the gradient, and I reach the bottom of the hill at a good clip.

Starting the final descent back to The Haven.

Then comes two kilometres of mostly straight flat running beside Avoca Lagoon, and I usually find that I can maintain the speed built on the previous section if I concentrate on holding good form and not overdoing it.  At the end of those two kilometres I reach the beach and cross the closed mouth of the lagoon, giving myself permission to ease off the pace on the often soft sand.  After a flat grassy section bordering the northern side of the lagoon comes the climb up Tramway which is always a challenge.  It has steeper and easier sections, but is always climbing and it's a relief to reach the crest.

Almost back to The Haven.

From the crest comes a kilometre or so of mostly downhill running back to The Haven with expansive views north along the coast.  It's easy to pick up the pace again and finish strongly.  Perhaps the most enjoyable part of the run is the slow warm-down walk I take around the perimeter of The Haven reserve, watching the other exercisers, the cars heading off to work in the distance, and the ever-interesting wave-pounded coastline.

The run this morning took 56 minutes which continues the steady improvement in my times over this course since I resumed running seven weeks ago.  Still a long way short of my quickest (51 minutes) but nearing my average (55 minutes).  If I could just lose those extra three kilograms I think I would be there.

Just can't help myself

My run this morning circled Avoca Lagoon.

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

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

Avoca Lagoon.

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

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

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

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
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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.