Benchmarks

Near the start of the Avoca Steps.

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

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

More of the Avoca Steps.

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

Further up the Avoca Steps.

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

The final section of the Avoca Steps.

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

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

Heavy weekend

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

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

On the early part of the trail run.

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

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

Looking west from Mt Scopus on the trail run.

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

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

Cautious optimism

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

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

McMasters Firetrail on this morning's run.

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

Cockrone Lagoon on this morning's run.

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

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

Cadging a lift

Erina Valley this morning.

Running the same courses each week, month in month out, can get boring.  Of course, it's always possible to drive to another location to run, but that can be time-consuming.  I have written before about alleviating the boredom by doing some exploring (see posts titled "Getting out the door" and "Small explorations").

Climbing Kincumba Mt this morning.

Another method I have employed is to cadge a lift from a family member who is driving somewhere, get dropped off and then run home.  The distance can be varied according to taste, and of course, you don't have to take the most direct route home.  I've also done it when dropping the car off for a service, or similar, and there are other ways to work in a run somewhere different minimising the time cost.

Starting the technical descent from
Kincumba Mt this morning.

This morning, I asked Sharon to give me a lift to the school where she teaches near Erina so I could run home through Erina Valley and over Kincumba Mountain.  These are areas I know quite well, but I don't get to run through them that frequently.

It was a beautiful morning, yet again, and a number of times I reminded myself how lucky I was to have such great places to run, largely to myself, and to just be running again.  There were a few long climbs, and some technical descents, but the 14km passed easily, if slowly.  I'm starting to feel like a runner again.

Maitland Bay

Strom's Track this morning.

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

Maitland Bay this morning.

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

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

Maitland Bay this morning.

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

Maitland Bay this morning.

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

Bouddi Coastal Track this morning.

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

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

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

Forest Park

Forest Park, St Louis.

Forest Park in St Louis is another location that lives large in my running memory.  Between 1992 and 1997, while living and working in St Louis, I frequently visited the park for races organised by the St Louis Track Club, of which I was a member, and to train on its perimeter track on my own, or with friends.

I wouldn't describe it as the most scenic park I have run through, but it had good paths, greenery and a nice 9km lap.  But, despite its name, little forest.  The terrain wasn't so tough, but the weather could be.  St Louis is renowned for its hot and humid summers and freezing winters, and I can remember running and racing in those extremes as well as in some beautiful spring and autumn weather.

Forest Park, St Louis.

The park has history as well, being the site of the 1904 World's Fair and some of the 1904 Olympics events.  It also hosts several museums, an outdoor theater and the St Louis Zoo.  As a teen in Australia, I could remember watching Marlin Perkins' "Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom" television series produced when he was director of the St Louis Zoo.  Who'da thought, thirty years later, I would frequently be running past his zoo on the other side of the world!

Forest Park in winter.

It was just a 15 minute drive from my home or office into Forest Park along the freeway and I could easily find a parking spot at the park's south-west corner.  Running clockwise, the perimeter lap started with a gentle downhill 1.5km followed by a long flat stretch along the park's northern edge.  If you were feeling good, you could really wind up on this section and then try and maintain your momentum as the path began gently climbing towards the south-east corner, the 6km mark.  From there the path paralleled the highway to the south of the park, passing the Zoo and Science Museum along the way.  This section always seemed like it should be flat, but actually you were climbing most of the way and it was often tough to maintain the pace established early in the run.

Even now, warm humid evenings evoke fond memories of running around Forest Park.

I didn't go for a run today, but walked about 5km while playing golf.  I'm really looking forward to tomorrow's Terrigal Trotters Matcham Valley 15km run, one of my favourites.

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.

Washington DC

US Capitol Building.

Washington DC offers unique running.  Since my first visit in 1985, I have visited it many times for business and pleasure, and always looked forward to my regular run around the Washington Mall.  The exact distance has varied, depending on where I was staying, but my basic Washington DC 10km loop has remained the same.

Looking past the Capitol Building along the Mall to
the Washington Monument.

I try not use the word "unique" too often, but it's appropriate in this case.  Where else in the world can a 10km run take you past the United States Capitol Building, various parts of the Smithsonian Museum, the Washington Monument, the Jefferson Memorial, the Lincoln Memorial, the Reflective Pool, and (distantly) the White House, as well as the Potomac River and many other sights, well-known memorials and institutions.

Looking the other way from the Washington Monument
along the Mall to the Capitol Building.

Before 9/11, security wasn't as tight around the US Capitol, and you could run quite close to the building.  It's a bit different today, but even then you could get into trouble.  While staying with friends for a couple of weeks in 1985, and still training twice a day, I would run hard up the hill on which the Capitol sits, sometimes in darkness.  On one of those occasions, my way was suddenly barred by two policemen who emerged from the gloom and asked me to identify myself.  Of course, I wasn't carrying any ID, but after a chat they let me continue on my way.  Subsequently, I tended to stay on the more well-lit paths closer to the road after dark.

The Jefferson Memorial and the path along the shore of
the Potomac Tidal Basin.

A good part of the 10km loop runs along the flattish and wide gravel paths on either side of the National Mall.  It's a popular place to run at either end of the day, but can get busy with tourists at other times.  When feeling good, I always enjoyed building to a good pace on the long straights and chasing down and over-taking fellow runners.

Apart from the impressive buildings and monuments, the area is characterised by expansive views and vast green lawns which, depending on the weather and time of day, can be very popular with tourists and locals alike.  I have a memory of running, one balmy summer evening, past countless games of mixed gender baseball and ultimate frisbee, played by people of all shapes, sizes and ages (mostly public servants, I would guess), running, shouting and encouraging each other.  A very happy scene.

Looking from the Lincoln Memorial over the Reflective
Pool to the Washington Monument.

I also have a memory of running the course on a chill winter morning with an icy wind blowing, remnant snow of a recent storm banked against park walls and buildings, and the few pedestrians protected by big coats and sturdy headgear.  Whatever the weather, it was always an interesting and inspiring place to run.

I plodded around 5km in Copa today, feeling a little stiff and sore after yesterday's exertions, particularly my chronically injured right knee.  For the first time, I wore a new heart monitor linked to my smart phone to collect data about the run and my associated effort for later computer upload.  It showed my average heart rate as 140bpm, with a maximum of 162bpm, and an average speed of 6 mins/km - pretty slow!

Looking up

Erina Valley is part of Woody's Wun.

The Terrigal Trotters Saturday morning run this week was the 14.2km "Woody's Wun".  Coincidentally, it was the last Trotters run I did while still fully functional, back in mid-December.  It was also 6km longer than my longest run since resuming training nine days ago, and incorporated some very steep and long hills.  That made me (and others) quite apprehensive about whether I should be attempting it.  On the other hand, there was a sort of appealing symmetry if I could get around the run OK.  I wouldn't be resuming where I left off, because last time I ran quite hard and well, but just completing the course without incident would be a significant step on the road back in my mind.

I managed to fall over crossing these paddocks this morning.

I was last of the hundred or so runners climbing the first rise away from the Terrigal Surf Club, but that was a good place to be, and pretty much where I stayed for the first few kilometres.  Despite constantly self-assessing my respiration and heartbeat, it was a great pleasure to be running along in the pre-dawn darkness bantering with my club-mates again.  There have been times during the last two months when it seemed possible those days were over, and probable that the hiatus would be much longer.

Woody's Wun goes right through the Erina Fair
Shopping Mall.

On each of the solid climbs in the next two kilometres, I slowed to a walk with some of my colleagues, only resuming when the gradient eased.  Normally I would never walk up a hill during a Trotters run, but my expectations have changed, at least for the time being.  They were the kind of hills that would have brought me to a staggering halt with a heart rate of 230bpm before the Cardioversion eighteen days ago, so it was encouraging to get up them comfortably.  From there, I ran the whole way, apart from climbing a few fences and one fall while crossing a paddock.  I particularly enjoyed the steady slow climb up the side of forested Kincumba Mountain along a very technical kilometre of single track and the gentle descent which followed along a beautiful fire-trail.  Magic!

The fire-trail on Kincumba Mountain.

I even caught a few people over the last half of the run, as I settled into an easy unstressed pace, but had to keep reminding myself not to get competitive.  This will be one of my challenges going forward.  Although there were still some aches and pains, particularly in the knees, I was in better shape than a few days ago, and really enjoyed the run.  May there be many more!

So far so good

Second from left, with the University of Melbourne
Cross-Country team in Canberra for the 1979
Intervarsity Championships.

It was with more than a little trepidation that I set off for this morning's 6km walk/run after supervising the 6:00am Trotters' track session at the Terrigal Haven.  I walked the first 500 metres, which included a solid hill, then jogged a few hundred metres before walking up a second, steeper and longer, hill.  So far, so good.  Once at the top, on Scenic Highway overlooking Terrigal, I decided to jog the remaining 4.5 kilometres of the 6 kilometre course if I felt OK.

I was very slow, and felt very unfit.  At one point, I was passed by ultra-running friend, Darren, who was himself running very slowly as he came back from injury.  How slow can you go, and still be running?  My joints creaked and my chronic bad knee hurt, but my breathing remained steady.  All the time, I was examining my heart and chest with my brain, looking for signs that something was amiss, but nothing happened.

When I reached the last few small hills, hills that I had originally intended to walk up, I chose to keep running.  I felt a little reckless, but was gaining confidence, that so long as my breathing was comfortable, I was not stressing my heart.  Back at The Haven, I reached my car and stopped running.  It hadn't been any tougher than other first runs after two months off, and I felt a glimmer of hope that I was on the way back to recreational running, if not competition.

Guadalupe Peak

Guadelupe Peak, Texas.

Some races and training runs stick in your mind forever, while others seem to get assigned to the same memory space as hotel room numbers and totally disappear within a few days.  In between there are memories that can be resurrected by some external stimulus such as a conversation with an old friend or the sight of a photograph.

I have been reading through, and digitising, my old training diaries.  It is a nostalgic and self-indulgent pastime, but is a source of ideas for this blog and resurrects many memories of races and runs that I had all but forgotten.  Other runs are still quite vivid in my memory and I start anticipating them as I move through the diary towards the date on which they occurred.

The approach to Guadelupe Peak.

One such run was up Guadelupe Peak from Pine Springs Campground and return in the Guadelupe Mountains National Park near El Paso in Texas in January 1986.  We were the only campground residents on a night when temperatures dropped below 10°F after a stormy day characterised by high winds and snow.  When I went to bed I wasn't sure that the planned run to Guadelupe Peak (8740ft) the next morning was going to be feasible, but we woke to an icy cold but crystal clear morning with a three inch snow cover.

Looking south to Guadelupe Peak from the Bowl Trail.

The Campground was at 5800ft, so I knew that altitude would be one of the challenges on my run, but the distance was short, just 7km each way.  However, that 7km incorporated 3000ft of climb along an exposed and unfamiliar snow-covered trail, so even though the weather had cleared, I was a little apprehensive.  There was nobody about and I knew it would take a long time to be rescued if anything bad happened.

The trail to Guadelupe Peak.

The trail gained height rapidly as it switch-backed its way up on to the spur I would be following to the Peak, but I was feeling fit, and knowing the distance was short, maintained a good pace.  It was a little precipitous to the side of the trail early on so I paid a lot of attention to where I put my feet, but higher up the risks were fewer and I began to appreciate the beauty of the vistas and the tranquility of my environment, broken only by the padded sounds of my footfall and my steady deep breathing.  The mostly snow-covered trail was smooth and unmarked, apart from the occasional tiny animal track, and there was almost no wind.  The higher I got the better the views became.

View from Guadelupe Peak.

I reached the summit in a little over 50 minutes and took a break to admire the panoramic views in all directions.  The plains of Texas spread out below to the east, south and west, while the barren peaks of the Guadalupe Mountains dominated the view to the north.  Standing alone atop a mountain in the early morning light with views to the horizon in all directions is about as spiritual as it gets for me.  At the same time as you feel privileged and exceptional to have such an experience, it also emphasises your microscopic place in the world.  You  almost feel powerful and powerless at the same time.

The return trip was much faster and exhilarating in parts, though I still needed to take great care with my foot placement and the sharp switch-backs, and I finished in just over one and a half hours for the return journey.  It was a special and still memorable run.

I walked about 9km today, doing some more exploring around McMasters Beach and Bouddi National Park.  Although I managed the walk OK, there were occasions during it, and later in the day, when I could feel my heart racing and that wasn't pleasant.  On the plus side, my breathing remained steady and I didn't have to rest.  It did remind me, however, that I'm not the person I was six weeks ago.

Relays

Fellow Kew Camberwell team members for the
1980 New Zealand Road Relay Championships.

There is plenty of camaraderie in distance running, but it is not usually thought of as a team sport.  There are club competitions run by various State and National running organisations for road and cross-country running, but my observation is that it still ends to be an individual competition with the performances just aggregated to determine team positions after the event.

The exception is relay racing where each individual runner is very conscious of their team membership and expectations.  I have known runners who almost always perform better in a relay race than when they are running for themselves, and others who find the pressure too much and choke.

Start of the 1980 New Zealand Road Relay Chempionships.

Most of my relay running was done in the 1970s and 1980s when I was a member of Kew Camberwell District AAC and its antecedents.  In our heyday we were one of the strongest distance running clubs in Victoria and derived some perverse pleasure from our lack of national and international stars of the kind that characterised the ranks of the two best Victorian clubs, Glenhuntly and Box Hill.  We were a club of journeyman runners who enjoyed fierce, but good-natured, competition amongst ourselves then took great pride in our ability to be competitive with the best clubs in team competition.

Running my leg in the 1981 New
Zealand Road Relay Championships
(9.6km, 29:34).

Although there were some relay competitions in Australia, it was the annual New Zealand Road Relay Championships that really caught our attention after Glenhuntly returned from competing there in 1979.  The competition in New Zealand was of exceptionally high standard and the event, which called for a team of ten to run an average of 10km each, was very competitive and continues to this day.  As I recall, the super Glenhuntly team had only just got onto the podium.

We managed to muster sufficient members to run in the competition in three different years in the early 1980s, but it was the first trip that sticks most in my mind.  We travelled over as a group starting in Auckland where we competed in a local road race before driving south in a hired van to Wellington where the Relay was to take place the following weekend.  There were 23 teams in A Grade and our goal was a top ten finish.  Glenhuntly were there again.  Our early runners excelled themselves, and the rest of us lifted to match their efforts.  I was only a few months past major knee surgery and couldn't run very well downhills so was given a 6.2km all uphill leg.  I wasn't at my best, but can still remember the pressure I felt to maintain our good position on that long climb.  The junior runner in our team who ran the downhill leg after me, wore the soles off both his feet blasting down the hill and had trouble even walking in the days that followed.  I can still remember Chris Wardlaw, a two-time Olympian and Glenhuntly team member, complaining to us "that seven legs have passed and we still haven't caught you bastards", or words to that effect.  That made our day.  Their class ultimately told and they finished seventh overall, but we were just two places and two and a half minutes behind.

The Kew Camberwell team for the 1983 New Zealand
Road Relay Championships.

We never did quite as well in the subsequent years, but I'm sure all of us who ran in the Kew Camberwell teams still remember them fondly.

Being Saturday, it was the usual Terrigal Trotters run at 6:00am, and I went down to meet my friends who were running and went for a 6km walk while they were out.  I feel like I'm treading water, waiting for the specialist appointments and my body to repair itself.  Not much else I can do at present, but it's very frustrating.

Katahdin

Mt Katahdin

One of my favourite places in the world to run or hike is Mt Katahdin in Baxter State Park in Maine, USA.  My then wife, Barb, and I first visited the Park in 1985 when we were touring the US for a year.  It's worthy of a visit in its own right, but my interest had been piqued by a former work colleague's wife, a native of Boston, who had told me about the 3,500km Appalachian Trail which had its northern terminus on Mt Katahdin.

Moose

The place had an early impact on me.  While running from our campsite on the first morning, I encountered a moose.  Every visitor to Maine hopes for a moose sighting, but my first was completely unexpected and very exciting.  I was just cruising along a deserted park road through a conifer forest at the base of Katahdin when, in the misty early morning light, I saw what looked like a very tall man walking along the road towards me.  As I continued on, the shadowy figure got taller until I finally worked out that it was a moose strolling obliviously in my direction.  They're not generally dangerous, unless you hit them while driving (22 people killed in Maine in the last decade), but they are intimidatingly large, often reaching a height of more than 2.5 metres.  Finally, the moose woke up to my approaching presence and crashed off into the forest.

Reaching the top of Katahdin after 3,500km and
4 months of hiking in August 1986

Later that day we climbed the spectacular Mt Katahdin (1606m), a 17km strenuous round trip along the Hunt Trail.  It involved some taxing and scary boulder scrambling, and a very exposed plateau-like top, but the views from the peak of the isolated mountain were spectacular and rewarding.

Fifteen months later, I was back there again, completing my northbound Appalachian Trail hike (and spotting a few more moose on the way), but this time the views were limited and the weather deteriorating.  After four months of hiking it was, nevertheless, a profound moment in a spiritual place.

Looking down Hunt Trail on Mt Katahdin

Another thirteen years passed before I saw the top of Katahdin again, this time during a family camping trip to Maine while we were living in Connecticut and I was working in New York.  I managed to squeeze in a return run from our campsite to the peak before the day's activities, and enjoyed having the whole mountain to myself in the morning light.  Despite the steepness and difficulty of some sections, the return trip only took about 2.5 hours.  It brought back many memories, as I'm sure it will when I set out southwards from there this coming October (fingers crossed!).

I managed to comfortably walk 10km for exercise this morning, including some significant hills.  I felt good all the way and spent the last half rationalising a return to gentle jogging next week assuming my INR blood test shows my anti-coagulant levels are in range.

A new challenge

Terrigal Trotters gather after their Santa Run

The New Year has brought some additional challenges in my quest to run a last sub-3 hour marathon.  When I started this blog, I thought my goal was possible rather than probable, and now it seems closer to impossible than possible.

Following my underwhelming Melbourne Marathon effort back in October 2013 (see post), my training was consistently around 100km per week up until Christmas and I could feel my fitness improving significantly.  Enough, in fact, to begin plotting my race calendar for 2014, culminating in another sub-3 hour marathon attempt at the Gold Coast Marathon in early July.  I entered races such as the Bogong to Hotham 64km in January and the Six Foot Track 45km in March, optimistic that, barring the unforeseen, I would do well in both.

Unfortunately, "the unforeseen" has arrived.  At the Terrigal Trotters Santa Run, on the Saturday preceding Christmas, I struggled around the 10km course for no apparent reason, breathing particularly hard on the hills.  It was warm and humid, I was wearing an Elf costume, and I had run 37km (comfortably) in training three days earlier, so I wrote it off to a combination of those factors.  Over the next three days, I ran just 10-15km daily, and didn't push the pace, but still felt fatigued and short of breath.  I even walked up a couple of steeper hills, a rarity, and quite demoralising.  I survived a long-planned 35km Boxing Day trail run with friends by running conservatively the whole way, and hoped that successful completion might have signalled some kind of recovery.

Me (centre) getting ready for the Trotters Santa Run,
unaware of my Pulmonary Embolism and how hard I
was going to find the run.

Sadly, two days later, I could only shuffle around the monthly Trotters 10km Hill Time Trial in 56 minutes, some 13 minutes slower than I should have been able to manage.  This convinced me something was wrong, and not getting better.  On returning home, I spent some time Googling my symptoms.  The most likely explanation seemed to be Pulmonary Embolism (PE) a condition that can quickly become fatal and requires urgent medical attention.  I didn't feel "on the edge" so resolved to visit my local Medical Centre the next morning.  The duty doctor thought PE unlikely, since I had no symptoms of Deep Vein Thrombosis (DVT),  but alarmingly, thought some kind of heart condition probable.  Nevertheless, she took my concerns seriously and prescribed a series of tests to check for heart and lung issues.

Being the Sunday between Christmas and New Year, I had to wait until the next day to get the first tests done and a Pulmonary Angiogram found evidence of PE in both lungs.  Often this would lead to immediate hospitalisation, but since I seemed otherwise healthy and stable, I was sent directly back to the doctor where I was given an injection of the anti-coagulant Clexane in the stomach and prescribed another anti-coagulant, Warfarin.  More tests were prescribed to try and determine the source of the original clotting, which I gather could include cancer, heart problems or injury.

Now, three days later, I'm still trying to come to terms with how this is going to change my life.  After more extensive Googling, it seems the best case scenario is that the clots are resolved by the anti-coagulant and I cease taking the Warfarin in three months and return to my pre-PE life.  The worst case scenario is that the PE is symptomatic of a more serious condition.  I feel healthy, when not running up hills, and have a sort of instinctive confidence that there is nothing seriously wrong.  On the other hand, I strive to be a rational being and know I'm getting older, I frequently test my body to its limits, and some time, barring accidents, a medical condition will lead to my demise.

I'm restarting this blog with the intention of tracking my progress through treatment and towards the Gold Coast Marathon in July.  At this stage, I really have no idea whether I will be running.  Chances are that I won't bother unless I feel fit enough to threaten 3 hours.  Right now, this seems a very slim chance, but I'm keen to try.

Pacing

Part of the "Erina Bush" run where it passes through the
Kincumba Mountain Reserve

This morning's Erina Bush 13km Run with Terrigal Trotters was always going to be a good guide to my current level of fitness.  It is one of my favourite runs, with a mix of road and technical trails and some testing hills.  In the past, when fit, I've run the course hard (after the initial 2km-3km of socialising) and been somewhere near the front of the pack.  However, today, the front-runners quickly left many of us behind, and despite running the first long climb comfortably and reasonably quickly, the leaders were long gone and I joined a few friends stretching out in pursuit.  It seemed we were running fast, but making little ground.  By the time I passed the half-way point, I could feel my lack of fitness beginning to kick in, and the long technical single-track climb up a spur of Kincumba Mountain, which I love to power up if I can, proved hard work.  From there, I just tried to maintain my pace and position, and finished very tired and coughing way too much, in 59 minutes.

Despite not running as well as I would have liked, the run had great value.  Not only did it confirm to me that I am on the way back to fitness, but it was hard enough to sober my time expectations for next week's Melbourne Marathon.  I won't get carried away thinking that somehow, miraculously, I have a chance of running near three hours, and will avoid (hopefully) setting out too fast for my fitness.  I would judge that I'm a couple of minutes faster over 10km than just a week ago, which is a welcome improvement, but that I'm still a month short of being competitive with the usual suspects on the weekly Trotters runs.

Roger Bannister (centre) led by Chris Brasher and tailed
by Chris Chattaway, his two pacers, on the way to the
first ever sub-4 minute mile in 1956

A number of my Terrigal Trotters club-mates are also running in the Melbourne Marathon and one, hoping for his first sub-3:00 marathon, has been training with another club-mate with a recent 2:40 to his credit, who is also running in Melbourne.  The rumour is that the latter will be pacing the former during the race to his sub-3:00, and there has been some banter, in person and on the club's Facebook page, about whether this is reasonable or if any time achieved will need to be asterisked.

Pacing is commonplace in running today from the 800m distance up to ultra-marathons, but there was a time when it was considered unethical.  Maybe this started to change with Roger Bannister's historic first sub-4 minute mile, where he was paced for the first three laps by colleagues, an approach which generated some criticism at the time.

For me, it's not an ethical issue, but a personal preference issue.  I think most runners, if asked, would say they valued a particular time achieved without pacing more than the same time if they had been paced.  However, if asked whether they would rather not run a certain time if the only way it could be achieved was with a pacer, most would choose the paced time.  You still have to run the time.

These days, in the larger marathons, the organisers frequently appoint experienced and identified runners to run the pace required to achieve certain benchmark times.  Knowing I would make use of this service during a race if I was struggling to reach my goal time, I can't afford to be righteous on this issue.  Achieving a time on my own, without the help of a pacer, would definitely satisfy me more, but I also hate asking for directions when lost.