Murray Marathon

I just walked 5km today, again with no problems, and even jogged the last 100 metres to see how it felt.  I'm seriously thinking of jogging a few kilometres tomorrow, ever ready to stop if anything feels amiss.

In years gone by, when I couldn't run because of injury, I often tackled other endurance sports.  Browsing through some old magazines, I found this article I wrote for the Victorian Marathon Club Newsletter published in June 1985, about my first attempt at the Red Cross Murray Marathon (now run by the YMCA).

MISERABLE MURRAY MARATHONING

The start of a recent Murray Marathon.

Following my third left Achilles tendon operation in April 1984, I found myself under doctor’s orders to do little or no running for six months, the first two of which were to be spent on crutches.  After these two months, I abandoned the crutches for a bicycle, and after one more month, combined the cycling with a little jogging.  The combination didn't work and I found myself with a stress fracture in my left foot and orders to stay off my foot for six weeks.  So it was off to the Richmond pool for a mile of slow freestyle each morning - terribly boring.

After the required rest period passed I began jogging, but aware of the Byrnes’ penchant for sometimes slightly overdoing things, began to look for some other form of exercise to combine it with.  Then, brainwave (!), I would start canoeing and enter the Red Cross Murray River Canoe Marathon, a long held ambition of mine.  Inquiries revealed that entries for the five-day, 404km event from Yarrawonga to Swan Hill closed at the end of November, giving me a month to decide whether I could do it and a further month after that to sharpen up.

Competitors in a recent Murray Marathon.

By following up personal contacts I borrowed an old white-water kayak (stable, slow, difficult to steer) and entered my first race, a 20 miler, a few days later.  I never discovered where I came but I didn't fall out!  Soon after, Phil Hamer, an ex- Box Hill marathoner, lent me a touring kayak (TK1, unstable, faster, easier to steer) and I plunged into daily training.

Two weeks later I strained some ligaments in my upper back quite badly and had to give away completely all paddling and running for two weeks - I even had difficulty walking.  My illusions of being competitive with the best rapidly faded and it looked unlikely that I would be able to participate at all.  However, frequent physiotherapy got me back on the water and road in time for four more weeks training.  I should admit to falling out of the kayak into the lovely Yarra more than once in that time.

Competitors in a recent Murray Marathon.

Barb and two of her girlfriends agreed to be my land crew (together with one of their two-year old daughters) and we arrived in Yarrawonga ready and rarin' to go at Lunchtime on Boxing Day.  The remainder of the day was spent registering, checking equipment and some practice paddling.  After watching a few of the novices fall out in front of the assembled crowds, I refrained from the latter.  Equipment was in large part dictated by the hot sunny weather and comprised sunglasses, Arab-like headdress, pyjama pants, long-sleeved top and chamois gloves.  Into the kayak went two 2-litre drink containers from which long plastic tubes were connected by safety pins high on my chest so that drinks could be taken without stopping paddling, a mandatory life jacket (not worn) and a container of jelly beans.  My seat had two layers of foam rubber as well as a sheepskin cover.

Day 1 dawned bright and sunny and I arrived at the start with minutes to spare after watching some of the earlier, slower classes get under way.  There were 500 paddlers in 300 canoes, 69 of which were in my class - the Men's Open TK1.  Water turbulence caused by the frenetic early paddling was my biggest problem as the starting gun boomed and I only just avoided tipping out whilst dodging a capsized competitor.
The key to marathon paddling is 'wash-riding', i.e. sitting right on the tail (only inches away) of another competitor and effectively surfing on his wake.  This technique reduces the paddling effort required by about 10% but takes careful concentration and occasional sprints as the leader (who, not surprisingly, sometimes objects to giving people free rides) surges to get away.  I resolved to spend as much time as possible wash-riding and every time a TK1 passed me I would detach myself from one kayak and attach myself to the new one.  By paddling hard and wash-riding I found myself well-placed after 60km when some of the short-comings of my paddling technique began to manifest themselves in my right wrist, which swelled up, turned red and blue and became extremely painful - tenosynovitis.  I struggled on for the last 32km, finishing 14th for the day.

Day 2 was even longer, 96km, and soon after the start I damaged the deltoid muscle in my right shoulder and was reduced to virtually one-armed paddling.  Each day's paddling was divided into four or five checkpoints about 2 hours apart (with a medical post half-way between each).  Just prior to the first of these, five TK2’s (two men) swept past me creating waves which my weakened condition couldn’t cope with and I fell out much to my embarrassment in front of the assembled hundreds.  The day continued to deteriorate.  I felt I had reached the low point of my life - limping from medical post to medical post, administering ice packs, receiving massages, scoffing copious Aspros, falling out and generally wishing I was dead.  Only the embarrassment of sending my caring land crew back to Melbourne after 1½ days prevented my withdrawal.  After 10 hours I finished - 54th this time - dreading the next three days.

Day 3 is a bit blurred in my memory though I do remember falling out once for no particular reason in front of a group of fishermen.  The intensive medical treatment continued, and as I grew gradually used to my disabilities, my average speed improved.  Withdrawing, though pleasant to contemplate, was not an option since ex- Club member Mike Hall and his family and Ray & Marilyn Wilson were expected in Echuca, the stage finish, to see the spectacle.  I was 37th for the day.

Day 4 began with some optimism and I actually chased a few canoes to wash-ride.  The optimism was misplaced.  I strained the ligaments in my back again after four hours and limped across the line 24th for the day.  It was only the conviction of the doctors that none of my injuries would lead to permanent disabilities if I soldiered on that kept me going.

Competing in my second Murray Marathon
(possibly 1986).

I set out on Day 5, the final day, intent only on survival, slowly paddling down the river until, 20km from the finish, the old competitive spirit surfaced again.  In the distance in front of me, I spied another TK1 and set out in pursuit.  Unknown to me, he in turn was pursuing another TK1.  Two hours later, the three of us were together - exhausted- and straining for the finish 3km away.  The last 200m was a mad sprint (I nearly fell out twice) with me taking the silver medal in our little trio.  After 37 hours of paddling I came 32nd in my class and was a physical wreck, unable to even lift a toothbrush with my right arm.  Two and a half weeks passed before I would jog again.  The finish of the race was followed by a presentation and huge New Year's Eve in the Swan Hill Showgrounds.

The Red Cross organisation was superb.  In addition to the medical posts a large medical centre operated at each campsite until 10pm at night and from 5 .30am each morning where queues could be found for massages, physios, doctors and repairs to hands, bums, wrists and miscellaneous.  On the fourth night the team of about 12 masseurs massaged over 400 paddlers.  Including land crews and officials, the camp totalled near 3000 people, yet the special teams of volunteer marshals wearing colour-coded jackets ensured that everything worked smoothly and no-one got lost driving between check points.

To ensure no paddlers missed the start each day (the slowest left first at 7 .00am) the organisers kindly drove a loudspeaker van around the campsite at 5:00am playing 'Morning Has Broken' and 'Always Look on the Bright Side of Life to the accompaniment of unprintable shouts and comments from roused paddlers and land crews.

No canoeist could complete the course without the aid of a land crew and I owe a great debt to mine.  The girls nursed me through each day, literally lifting me out of the canoe at check points, filling drink bottles, administering 2-3 Aspros each time and a couple of handfuls of jelly beans, massaging shoulders, offering words of encouragement to unreceptive ears and spending long hours driving and waiting in the hot sun.  Even after they had lifted my disabled body from the canoe for the last time each day they still had to put up the tents and prepare the meals whilst I lay down or sought medical treatment.  I can't say it was a pleasant experience but it was one not to be missed and I will be back - better prepared and more competitive - in a few years time.  Even the land crew said they'd come back though Barb thought it might be easier to be a paddler next time.

Mental adjustment

The MacPherson Forest loop was my last long trail run

It is a challenging (character-building?) time for me.  I find myself constantly re-evaluating my situation, looking for plausible positive scenarios (while trying not to fool myself), and fending off the darker morbid thoughts that must come to anybody who suddenly finds they have a potentially life-threatening medical condition.  I always assumed that my serious running career would be brought to an end by some major joint failure.  I did not expect it to be threatened by a cardio-vascular event, and it's taking time to get my head around the consequences.  With joint failure, there were always going to be alternative forms of endurance exercise such as cycling, hiking or kayaking to fill the running void, but a cardiac problem will be just as much of an issue for those activities.

MacPherson State Forest trail run

It's amazing how quickly your perspective changes, especially with the resources of the Web and Google to inform you.  I'm already thinking about changing the title of this blog to "The Futile Pursuit of a Last Sub-3 Hour Marathon" as it's hard for me to believe that I will ever be able to subject my heart to the stress necessary to run that fast again.  New goals are formulating.

Of most importance to me is the ability to exercise most days and feel good about my health, well-being, and quality of life.  It would be great to include occasional long "no pressure" trail runs, and be able to go for extended hikes/rides in remote places.  Compromises will be needed, along with patience.

MacPherson State Forest trail run

I have already decided I'm willing to reduce daily and weekly distances, give up the pursuit of age-group podiums, and even walk up hills.  If it seems likely to reduce the risks, I'll cut out caffeine (despite my well-known penchant for Diet Coke and Pepsi Max) and stop using my asthma inhalant, Symbicort.  All of these things - too much endurance/hard running, caffeine, steroid-based asthma medications - are statistically correlated with Atrial Fibrillation and cited as possible risk factors.  Age (I'm 63) is another significant risk factor, but I can't do much about that.

There will be more tests and doctor consultations to come, and there are still plenty of "unknowns", but it will help me deal with the situation if I've started mentally adjusting to the life-style compromises that may be required.

Despondency

Central Park, Malvern

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

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

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

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

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

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

Downtime

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



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

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


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

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

Other sports

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



Melbourne Herald, 1 February 1973

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

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

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