Does it matter

The sun rises behind Terrigal Haven this morning
[Photo courtesy of Jenny Barker]

After supervising the usual Trotters track session as the sun rose at Terrigal Haven this morning, I headed out unenthusiastically for my own 10km run on a day forecast to be very hot.  Even though it was not that bad at 7:00am, the run was not enjoyable.  It was hard, on top of yesterday's lethargic short run, to believe I had any chance of running a good Half Marathon in three days time.  Even my chronic right heel was bothersome despite a light training week.

Experience tells me that I've done the training and that I won't run that badly on Sunday.  However, part of the reason it's all weighing on my mind a little is that exactly how well I run will impact my plans for the next nine months.  If I finish in a time that gives me any confidence that I could run a near 3-hour marathon in April, then I'll delay the start of my planned three-month hike around Ireland until after that marathon.  It's unlikely I'll ever have the chance, small as it is, to run that kind of time again.

If my time on Sunday gives me little hope of a sub-3 marathon in April then I'll give the marathon a miss and start my hike earlier - an attractive outcome because I am looking forward to the hike and early spring will be a better time to start.

I haven't booked any flights yet and also need to start on the detailed planning, so I need to make a decision one way or the other.  I'll be trying as hard as I can on Sunday and hoping that I'll get a clear indication.  Since both outcomes do have attractions, what am I worried about.

Deep Space Mountain Marathon

Plenty of kangaroos in Orroral Valley

My 5km jog on Saturday morning didn't fill me with confidence.  It wasn't hard, but I wasn't cruising as easily as I would have hoped the day before a big race.  It was humid, and I always think that has an enervating effect, but nevertheless, it made me wonder how I was going to manage the 42km Deep Space Mountain Marathon the next day.  Have faith in your preparation, I told myself!

I drove down to Canberra on Saturday afternoon and stayed with relatives on Saturday night, sneaking out at 5:30am for the one hour drive to the Orroral Valley where the race started from the site of a dismantled space tracking station.  I love the mountain country south from Canberra and enjoyed the unhurried drive on a beautiful cool Sunday morning.  Four years ago, I had completed my 660km hike along the Australian Alps Walking Track at Namadgi, just south of Canberra, and the race would be along a small section of the same track.

Early creek crossing

There wasn't much going on when I arrived at the start location apart from hundreds of kangaroos grazing nearby.  I walked and jogged a little to loosen up then went to the start line for the race briefing by the organiser, John Harding.  He was a good marathon runner, and I ran second to him (2:32:13) in the one of the earliest Canberra marathons (1977), nearly 40 years ago.  We've both changed a bit!

Cruising?

I knew the race would be low-key, but the field was much smaller than I anticipated, with just 20 runners.  The later events - Half Marathon, 10km and 5km - had larger numbers.  That didn't bother me much and I quickly moved to the back of the field as we set off on the short (and only) stretch of sealed road up a gradual hill.  I'm learning to settle into a rhythm early in a race without worrying about what everybody else is doing.  With age, it is easy to get into oxygen debt quickly if you go out too hard.  I think it probably has something to do with the cardio-vascular system starting more slowly.

Beautiful sub-alpine scenery

The course was a double out-and-back to the site of the old Honeysuckle Creek Space Tracking Station (hence the race name), climbing over the shoulder of Mount Tennent, along a fire-trail that had some very steep ascents and descents, and undulated the rest of the way.  My plan was to run as many of the hills as I could on the first lap and then try and run the same hills on the second lap.  I had confidence that my comparative advantage would be up the hills and that's the way it worked out.  By the time I reached the highest point on the way out at 7.5km, I had moved into the front half of the field.  However, I didn't make up much ground on the descents, which were positively scary and dangerous in a few places.  Loose fine gravel and exceptional steepness had me fearing my feet would skid out from under me at any moment and I took very short steps, just hoping to stay upright.

I was tired at the half-way point, reached in just over two hours and surprised to learn I was now seventh, though with three or four more runners within a kilometre behind me.  I told myself that if I could run up all the hills on the second lap, nobody would catch me and I might even catch some of the runners up ahead.  At the turn on the second lap (3/4 mark of the race), though very tired, I was indeed closer to the runners in front and further clear of those behind.  I broke my rule about running up all of the hills with about 8km to go, but my legs were almost non-functional.  Neverthess, I moved into fifth at this stage and was now less than 200 metres behind two other runners.

Running in to the finish

Unfortunately, this was the highest elevation point and there followed the 4km of downhill, some of it steep and some very steep, and the two runners got away from me.  When I emerged from the forest, with 2km to go, they were both still in sight, and I managed to close to about 100m of fourth place by the finish.  My legs were totally hammered by the end, and my chronic right heel injury was sore, but I was happy with my run, finishing in 4:08 with 42.3km on my Garmin.  Given the course topography, I don't think I could have done much better, and I thoroughly enjoyed the challenges of the climbs and the beautiful alpine and sub-alpine forest running.  There were times on the run, even when exhausted, when I thought life couldn't get much better for a near-65 year old.

For today, I just walked 5km, and though my right heel was a bit sore and my legs still stiff and tired, there didn't seem to be any new injuries.

Changing shoes

I usually rotate my running shoes
on a regular basis

One of the ways I have managed my chronically injured heel as I have sought to get running again has been by trying to manage my footwear.

For the past twenty years I have primarily used Nike Pegasus shoes and before that various other Nike shoes, a favourite being the Nike Elite.  I'm not dogmatic about using Nike's, and have occasionally used other brands for various reasons, including New Balance and Brooks shoes for years when they sponsored me in the early 1980s.

One reason Nike shoes has found favour with me is because they have tended to have higher heels with a larger drop between the heel and forefoot.  This decreases the range of Achilles tendon movement and I have always had problems with my Achilles (three operations on the left and one on the right).

However, even wearing the Nikes, my right heel was exceptionally painful a year or so ago, and not just because of Achilles tendonitis.  It was also highly sensitive to touch, often with searing hot pain on the surface of the back of the heel, even when just lying in bed, and there was a dull deep pain under the heel.

I have got back to running, despite medical advice that the heel was just worn out, by trying to treat all three problems after initially having nearly six months off running in the hope rest would fix it.  I'm sure the rest did help, but the methods below also made a big difference when I resumed trying to run.

The Nike Elite was my favourite training shoe for many years

Firstly, I decided to raise the heel even further, and after experimenting with various brands of heel raises found some hard 6mm raises that self-glue onto the heel of the shoe under the insole.  This means that my heel drop has gone from the standard Nike Pegasus drop of 12mm to 18mm, not ideal because it places extra strain on the tendon under the foot, risking plantar fasciitis, but workable for me.

Secondly, I decided I needed to reduce pressure on the heel from the shoe and increased my shoes size by a half and tried some shoes that gripped differently on the heel.  After research I found the New Balance 880v4 had the same heel drop as the Nike Pegasus (12mm) and I tried running in them for a change.  I also tied the shoe on my right foot exceptionally loosely (the usual test being the ability to put two fingers between the shoe and my heel) and got in the habit of smearing vaseline on the back of the heel to reduce friction.  It felt strange at first and my foot has come out of the shoe while running on a couple of occasions, not to mention more debris finding its way into the shoe during trail runs, but it's manageable.

Thirdly, I rested the underneath of the heel, which felt deeply bruised, by modifying my running style to favour the heel and try to avoid unnecessary pounding, particularly down hills.

Over time, the heel pain has generally diminished, though always there.  To reduce the chances of recurrence, I have also bought some larger Nike Pegasus shoes and now alternate so the shoe grip pressure changes regularly.

My latest heel pain setback occurred wearing the New Balance, so I am wearing the Nike more often, though still changing every couple of days.  This morning, after four or five days of New Balance, I switched to the Nikes for my short 6.5km run, and the pain was much reduced from yesterday.  Enough to convince me that I can get around the Deep Space Mountain Marathon on Sunday.  It's a two-lap course, so I can always pull out after one if the heel is bad.

Back on track?

My UK visitor, Liam, the son of my long-time
running buddy, Keith, nears the top of the
challenging Hastings Road hill this morning

I've missed a couple of days of blogging while I had some guests staying.  On Monday, I just did some walking as intended and was pleased that my troublesome heel didn't seem to have deteriorated as a result of Sunday's long run.  I did, however, have some tightness in the lower hamstrings, the same places as cramp threatened many times on Sunday.

I warmed up for over 3km on Tuesday before joining the usual group of Trotters for a 10km run incorporating a few large hills.  The warm-up did the trick and I felt surprisingly good during the run.  My thinking is that, although the Sunday run was thoroughly exhausting, the exhaustion was primarily caused by dehydration.  The dehydration compelled me to run more slowly than would otherwise have been the case, and consequently my body wasn't as trashed as it might have been.  Once my fluid levels were back to normal I was not as tired and sore as feared.

I ran 14km this morning, still somewhat bothered by the hamstring tightness and pain in the right heel, but feel that both issues are improving.

My entry for the Bogong to Hotham 64km trail race in early January has been accepted and becomes my target race in this training cycle.  As part of my planned preparation, I would really like to run in the Deep Space Mountain Marathon, near Canberra, this coming Sunday.  However, I'm reluctant to race if I have any lingering heel or hamstring soreness because I know I will be going all out and risk more serious injury.  Fortunately, it's a low-key event that I can enter at the last minute, so really don't have to commit yet.  My rational self says that over the next four days both injuries will improve sufficiently to let me run.

Am I dreaming?

Approaching the first turn-around in this morning's Trotters'
Brooks Hill 10km Time Trial (that's me in grey).
[Photo courtesy of Judy Murray]

I ran the Trotters' Brooks Hill 10km Time Trial this morning in 42:39, a time that was a little disappointing.  Of course, it's a tough 10km, there's still some stiffness and fatigue from last Sunday's Girrakool to Patonga long run, and it's hard to get the adrenalin pumping at 6:00am on a Saturday morning, but I still hoped for a faster time.

The hard reality is that my average pace over 10km this morning was almost exactly the same average pace I will need to maintain to achieve a 3 hour marathon.  Sadly, I felt like I was running flat out the whole way, and no part of the race was comfortable or enjoyable.  My heart rate average for the 10km was just 5bpm below my maximum rate!

I believe that I could maintain a pace of 15-20 seconds slower per kilometre (i.e. 4:30-35) over the marathon distance at present, which would yield a time of 3:15.  Somehow, I need to get my 10km time down to 40 minutes or less to have any hope of a sub-3 hour marathon.

If I was 40 years younger, I would be including some track sessions and short fast races to work on my speed.  However, every time I have tried track training in the last ten years, I have injured myself.  I'm also hesitant to change my current training routine which has yielded steady improvement without injury over the last six months, even though it includes little fast running.

I do believe that training and racing yield a cumulative benefit over time without the need to consciously increase the quantity or quality of your work-outs.  As you get fitter, you find your training runs get faster anyway.  On balance, I think my best approach is not to meddle with my training program and trust that speed improvement will come with time.  Nevertheless, it's hard not to get a little depressed about where I am, versus where I need to be.

Next six months

Paul Every, Phil "Spud" Murphy and Jan Herrmann, running
legends all, at the summit of Mt Bogong on the way to Mt
Hotham in the 2005 Bogong to Hotham (I'm the photographer).

As mentioned previously, the reason I have restarted posting to this blog is that I'm now quite fit and think that if I can train consistently for the next six months, I can run a good marathon.  Maybe even near 3 hours.

I've always been a bit "old school" about marathon racing, believing that you need about three months between peak efforts  -  3-4 weeks to recover, 6-8 weeks of serious training, and 2-3 weeks of taper.  Of course, the running calendar is never that neat, so I will to focus on three races in which I want to do well over the next six months (the last being the marathon), and build my training around those.

Assuming I can get my entry accepted, the first will be the Rooftop Run (aka Bogong to Hotham) on 10 January, a 64km trail race across Victoria's High Plains.  The course is very challenging, with an aggressive cut-off at 34km, and the scenery is spectacular.  I have run it a few times before (see here), but not recently.

The second race will be the annual Six Foot Track Marathon (45km) in the Blue Mountains west of Sydney on 12 March, the largest ultramarathon in Australia, and a race I have run well a few times (and badly some others).  Like the Bogong to Hotham, the course is tough and the scenery beautiful.  It attracts the best runners in the state and has great atmosphere.

2005 Bogong to Hotham finishers.

For the marathon, I wanted to find a race that had a fast certified course, and plenty of sub-3 hour finishers.  However, one major factor has limited my choice.  For much of this year, I have been looking forward to spending three or more months hiking in Ireland during the northern spring of 2016.  Originally, I was going to fly out shortly after Six Foot Track, so I would be back in Australia around the end of June - plenty of time to prepare for the Great North Walk 100s (GNW100s) in mid-September, for which I am Race Director.  Now that a road marathon is on my agenda, my hiking will need to start later, but not too late or I won't be back in time for the GNW100s preparation.

I have decided that I can get by on four weeks recovery from Six Foot Track, arguing to myself that trail races aren't as hard on the body as road marathons.  I considered the races available in Australia, but none were suitable.  The Canberra Marathon is on 10 April, but the new course is undulating and not fast.  Looking to Europe, I found the Rotterdam Marathon and the Greater Manchester Marathon, also both on 10 April, and have decided that Greater Manchester is the best choice.  It's big (~8,000 finishers), but not as big as Rotterdam, has a flat certified course, and plenty of sub-3 hour finishers (~500).

Now I just have to get to the start in good shape and hope the weather obliges.

Tempting Fate

Waiting for the start of my comeback race in
March 2015 near St Louis, Missouri.

It has been more than fifteen months since my last blog post and for much of that time I have been unable to run.  The right heel problem referred to in my last post worsened and scans revealed significant damage. I was told that my serious running days were over (not for the first time in the last 30 years!).  The best I could reasonably hope for was to jog 5km a few times a week.

The pain was significant in multiple areas of the heel and I stopped running and started mountain biking as a means of keeping fit.  In March of this year, I resumed jogging, strongly motivated by the opportunity to run, three weeks later, a favourite event in the US for the first time since the mid-1990s. Through experimentation and experience, I have learned to manage the heel in a number of different ways.  Much to my astonishment, I have been able to run, relatively uninterrupted, for the last six months and reached a level of fitness sufficient to resurrect the faint hope of running a good marathon time.

The heel still causes me problems, along with all of the other niggles a 64 year old runner endlessly gets, but I am enjoying my running and still seeing improvement.  I have picked out a marathon in April of next year, six months away, and will now chart my progress towards that race in this blog.  To run a good time, I will have to remain relatively uninjured for the six months, an unlikely prospect.  Just restarting the blog makes me feel like I am tempting fate!

You never can tell

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A year on

Still moving well at the 12km mark.

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

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

Not quite so smooth at 25km.

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

Happy to finish.

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

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

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

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

Hattah Lakes

Hattah-Kulkyne National Park.

We have had two very wet days in Copa, with puddled roads and overflowing storm water drains.  Having succumbed to the temptation to enter the Macleay River Marathon on Sunday, I have been tapering my training and only had a short 5km run on the schedule for today.  I thought I would have a good chance of dodging the showers given it was such a short run, but after a dry first five minutes the heavens opened and five seconds later I was saturated.  The rain teemed down for the rest of the run and I was cursing myself for wearing the Hoka shoes I was planning to use for the marathon.  They were also soaked.

Hattah-Kulkyne National Park.

I was wet and cold during the run and dreaming of running in warmer and drier places such as the Hattah Lakes in north-western Victoria where I have camped and run several times, many years ago.  Although there are lakes, it has a flat desert-like environment and is not particularly inspiring in a topographic sense.  But I have always enjoyed running somewhere different and have memories of mild temperatures, sparse scrub, sandy park roads and trails, and the occasional emu and kangaroo on the 22km run from the campground.  It must have been fairly easy running because on one occasion my training diary records that I covered the course at 6:00/mile (3:45/km) pace.

Hattah-Kulkyne National Park.

I don't expect to be running at that pace or in those conditions on Sunday.  The weather is supposed to improve, but it is still likely to be cool, showery and windy on what is an exposed rural course.  My heel is still bothering me, and I have decided to risk wearing the cushioned Hoka shoes instead of my preferred Nike Pegasus, in the hopes my heel will be better protected.  We'll see.

Decisions, decisions

Tree Fern Forest in the Dandenong Ranges.

I'm agonising over whether to run the Macleay River Marathon this coming Sunday.  I have the fitness to finish, but feel that my right heel may still be a little bruised from a run ten days ago.

The marathon is a long way on hard roads and if the heel becomes more tender as the race wears on, it will impact my running form and shorten my stride length.  The run will become a slow and painful journey and it will likely take three weeks of easy, or no, running for the heel to repair.  The Woodford to Glenbrook 25km trail race, which I also want to run, is in three weeks so that would be jeopardised.  These are the arguments I would make to someone in my position seeking my advice.

Sherbrooke Forest trail in the Dandenong Ranges.

On the other hand, it may be fine and my confidence about my fitness and health will be boosted if I make it through unscathed in a reasonable time.  And I have nothing else planned for the long weekend.

I have set today as "decision day" because online entries close tonight.  At the moment I'm leaning towards entering.

My training has been less intense since my last blog post, apart from a very enjoyable 20km run in the Dandenong Ranges outside of Melbourne, and I am freshening up, but the heel pain is still perceptible.

Outside of running, I have been quite busy with a trip to Melbourne for a family celebration, the opening of entries for the Great North Walk 100s (of which I am Race Director), and a significant change in my domestic arrangements.  I will have less time for blog posts in the next three months, so they will become more irregular - maybe a few per week.  However, I enjoy documenting my running life and will try and make them interesting and meaningful.

Trying to freshen up

This morning's run followed Gardiners Creek.

Most of my running focus this week has been on recovery from last weekend.  After struggling through the 40km trail run on the Sunday with some kind of bruised heel, I know I need to get it right if I want to have any hope of running a marathon in ten days time.

Gardiners Creek wetlands.

On Tuesday, I drove down to Melbourne for a family occasion this coming weekend, so used that as an excuse to have a second day off running.  I was hoping that the 11km I ran yesterday would be easier, but my legs were stiff and the heel a little painful, though improving.  Today, I tried a relatively flat 16.5km run in Melbourne's south-eastern suburbs, and though I felt strong enough, my legs were still heavy and my heel a little sore.

My experience in the past has been that if I just train steadily and moderately for a couple of weeks I freshen up and the injuries abate.  With luck, that's what will happen this time as well.  I'll run an easy 5km tomorrow and then do a longer run on Saturday as my last before the marathon......if I run it.

Good and bad

Narrow windblown ridges.

My fears about running hard twice on the same weekend were realised, to a degree.  My first steps when I arose yesterday, were quite painful.  I expected my right Achilles tendon, which is chronically injured, to be sore, but was unpleasantly surprised to find my whole heel felt tender and bruised when I put weight on it.  It wasn't totally debilitating, so I crossed my fingers and left to join my club-mates for our annual Wakefield to Congewai 40km trail run along The Great North Walk.

Dank dark rainforest gullies.

Right from the start my heel was painful as I ran, and the further I went the more painful it got.  It wasn't bad enough to stop me running, but it made me limp and shorten my stride, both impacting my running efficiency and my speed.  I tried to avoid forcing it, and resigned myself to hobbling along at a slower pace.

Sandstone caves.

The pain wasn't sufficient, however, to distract from a challenging and rewarding run through beautiful forest terrain.  There were narrow windblown ridges, dank dark rainforest gullies, sandstone caves, breathtakingly steep hills, and glorious vistas.  It was fun to be out there and sharing it with like-minded friends.

Glorious vistas.

Also on the positive side, although running inefficiently, my legs didn't tire as much as expected.  Even towards the end, I felt I was strong enough to step up the pace if not for the painful heel.  This tells me that the previous two weekends of long road runs have yielded benefits.

I now have a decision to make about the Macleay River Marathon in two weeks time.  I still haven't entered, and will leave it a little longer.  I figure that I need to taper anyway, and am hoping that my heel will improve with two days of walking, and careful running thereafter.  I will also wear my Hoka shoes as much as possible in the hope that their extra cushioning hastens the healing process.  My sense is that if I can get to the starting line of the marathon with almost no pain in the right heel, I will be able to make the distance and finish with dignity.  That's the plan, anyway, and I'll enter the marathon later in the week if I feel significant improvement.

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.

Thinking the unthinkable

Katandra Reserve this morning.

After dropping my car off for a service in North Gosford this morning, I ran an easy 20km home via a route that maximised trail and minimised suburbia.  It was another beautiful morning for a run - mild and sunny with wisps of fog in some valleys.  Despite residual fatigue from Sunday's 37km road run, my legs are feeling stronger and I spent much of today's run pondering my running objectives for the next six months.

Clyde Road, this morning.

Incredibly, I'm getting to the point where the sub-3 hour marathon goal is again entering the fringes of my thinking.  I can't quite believe I'm even contemplating it, but assuming my heart problem at Christmas was just a blip, resolved by the Cardioversion, then why is a sub-3 less likely this year than last.  I fully accept it's a remote possibility, but it makes no sense to rule it out.  But maybe a change of approach is needed.  Since resuming running eleven weeks ago, I have been remarkably (for me) sensible in my training.  I haven't aggressively ramped up my mileage, I took a few days off for a minor injury, and I have mostly avoided back-to-back quality (fast or long) training days.  Although it has taken a bit longer than in the past, there has been steady improvement in my speed and endurance and that seems set to continue.

View from Clyde Road this morning.

My new thinking is that I should avoid focussing single-mindedly on the sub-3 hour goal.  Last year, I was trying to run as many kilometres a week as my ageing body could handle, and feeling pressure to improve my base speed.  However, when I look at how I'm running at the moment, and what training I was doing when at my best early last year, I was pretty much running for enjoyment, without sweating on kilometres or speed.

Kincumba Mt this morning.

Although a sub-3 hour marathon is not easy, there were times in my life when I could do it comfortably.  Maybe I need to fine-tune my approach to have fewer quality sessions (fast or long) and run those sessions fresher.  Maybe I also need to avoid targeting a particular marathon and, instead, when I think I'm ready, find one.

It seems to be worth trying, though it runs counter to the approach adopted most of my serious running career.  Counter-intuitively, it may require more self discipline for me than the high-mileage run-regardless regime of the past.

London to Brighton

Article from a local newspaper
about my first ultra.

I can reasonably claim to have done my first ultramarathon at the age of 15.  A year earlier, my family had moved to London where my father had a three-year posting, and I joined a unit of the Boys Brigade at our local church.  There, I learned of an annual charity walk from London to Brighton, a distance of 52 miles, and quickly volunteered along with a friend.  My recollection is that the event started in the evening and we walked through the night.  My friend stopped after 33 miles while I finished the journey in 18½ hours.  I don't remember too much about it, other than lying on my back with my legs up against a tree to ease the pain in my feet on multiple occasions in the last twenty miles, and being very short-tempered in the final stages.  Nevertheless, I finished and it reinforced my growing perception that I could do well in endurance events.

The London to Brighton race started beneath Big Ben
and across Westminster Bridge.

It also fostered my interest in the journey from London to Brighton which has an iconic place in English folklore dating back to the early 1800s when people first walked it.  Since then, there have been all kinds of events over the route involving pedestrians, cyclists and motor vehicles, but the one that first captured my interest in the early 1970s was the running race.  Although the amateur running race began in 1951, it wasn't really until the 1970s that some highly-credentialled marathon runners, amongst them Cavin Woodward and Don Ritchie, began racing and six minute mile average pace was beaten.  This was also the time I was starting to race marathons at better than six minute mile pace, and I imagined myself (very optimistically) mixing it with them.

The climb over Ditchling Beacon with seven miles to go.

In the mid-1970s I returned to live in the UK for a year or two, but didn't get to run the race for some reason (can't remember why).  It wasn't until 1991, when I was again living in the UK, that I finally ran the race, at the age of 40.  I was no longer training twice a day, had a young family, and was spending a large part of my life on planes.  Hopes of running six minute miles for the distance were gone, but that didn't stop me heading out at a good pace from beneath Big Ben at the 7:00am start.  It was a race of two distinct halves for me.

The race finishes on the Brighton promenade.

I reached the halfway mark, 27.5 miles (this was the first year of an altered, longer, course that finished over Ditchling Beacon for safety reasons), in almost exactly three hours and going strong.  After a cool start, it had become a clear and warm day, and I began to suffer soon after.  I remember making a very brief pit-stop at about 40 miles and being almost overcome by a desperate desire to lie down on the road and sleep.  I continued on, with the daunting climb over Ditchling Beacon constantly on my mind.  It was every bit as hard as I feared, but I kept running, despite being overtaken by the first woman (it still mattered to me in those days).  The last few kilometres, though mostly downhill, seemed to take forever and I was totally spent when I finally crossed the line in 7:20.  Disappointment at my performance over the latter half (it took 4:20), was quickly replaced with satisfaction at finally realising a long-term goal, and I still cherish the memory.

I ran an easy 5km for training today, feeling in reasonable shape and looking forward to tomorrow morning's run with Terrigal Trotters.

Fred Lester

Fred Lester in full flight.

I like to think that I'm a self-coached runner, but know that there are people I have encountered during my running career who have had a profound influence on me, even though I might not have acknowledged it at the time.  One such person is Fred Lester, who was coach of the YMCA Amateur Athletic Club when I first joined at the age of 19 in 1970, and who remained a respected friend for the rest of his life.  He died in 2010 at the age of 87.

Although I didn't know it at the time we first met, and didn't bother to ask, Fred had already had a very interesting life.  All I knew was that he was also Secretary of the Victorian Marathon Club, wore an Australian Army slouch hat, spoke with a strong German accent, and was always willing to provide coaching advice.  As young twenty-year-olds, with the world at our feet, we were often cruel to the resilient Fred.  We jibed him about which side he fought for in World War II, when in fact he was a German Jew who had escaped Germany just before the war as a boy and ultimately ended up enlisted in the Australian Army.  He wore panty-hose in winter to keep warm, long before similar running-specific clothing was sold, and encouraged us to do likewise.  None of us did, but we certainly gave him a hard time about it.  He often prescribed a track session when we turned up at the old Yarra Park grass track in Melbourne for evening training and we would studiously ignore his advice, and do our own thing.

Fred Lester with his hero Emil Zatopek.

In my mind, the Fred story that impressed me the most was that he needed to make a pit stop during a marathon in his younger years, and rather than seeking cover, apparently just squatted in the middle of the road, did what was necessary, and continued on.  He had been a proficient marathon runner in his day, always looked superbly fit during all the time I knew him, and had an enormous passion for athletics.

He was an excellent coach of younger athletes and always had a few coming up through the ranks, mostly via the Catholic School system.  He drove them and us to races in his van and we often wondered what their Catholic parents would think if they knew their children were under the tutelage of a proud card-carrying member of the Australian Communist Party.  To his absolute credit he kept his running and political lives totally separate, though was always quick to rail against authority and bureaucracy.  Fred didn't tolerate fools, and I can remember hearing him say "Christ, you took your bloody head out there, why didn't you use it?" on more than one occasion after I had messed up a race tactically.  Many runners from those years have other favourite Fred sayings.

Fred laying down the law to some junior
volunteers at a running event.

Apart from encouragement, Fred's greatest impact on me during those days was perhaps via the Victorian Marathon Club which provided a range of road, and occasionally track, races for runners to augment the official VAAA races of the time.  I loved those races, which gave me a chance to shine in smaller fields, especially as I became a better runner.  Winning the VMC's King of the Mountains and being first Australian home in several VMC Marathons, the latter leading to trips to New Zealand marathons at a critical stage of my career, were highlights still bright in my memory.

I now also realise that Fred, leading by example, probably sparked my interest in creating events for runners of all standards, something which provides me with great satisfaction to this day.  One event he created, the annual Emil Zatopek 10,000m track race in Melbourne, continues to attract the very best runners in Australia each December more than fifty years since its inception in 1961.

I haven't done justice to Fred's contributions to me and running in this brief blog post.  You can read an excellent article published in the Melbourne Age newspaper about Fred's very interesting life here.  It's worth the read.  The collected volumes of the Victorian Marathon Club Newsletter, available here, give some indication of how much work Fred put into the running scene over many years.

For my training today, I ran an easy 11km.  I was tired after yesterday's 21km, but I was pleased with the underlying strength I'm starting to feel in my legs and my average training pace is gradually improving.

Road running

An early part of today's run was along
Cullens Road which I enjoy so long as
traffic is light.

I'm getting fitter following my heart/lung problems at the end of last year and am continuing to contemplate running the Macleay River Marathon in four weeks time, just to see how I go.  One argument against running is that my legs still need some toughening up if I'm not to disgrace myself.

Although I enjoy running on trail more than road, my experience has been that if you want to race long distances on the road, you need to train over long distances on the road.  It is the hours of repetitive pounding on the road, with every step exactly replicating the preceding step's effect on the musculo-skeletal system, that builds the fitness necessary to cope with a marathon.  After training for long distances on the road, I have always been able to feel the growing strength in my legs, particularly the quadriceps.  Almost suddenly, I will feel stronger, fitter and faster, after a few long road runs.

Ward's Hill is steeper than it looks.

I know I need a couple of long road runs under my belt before tackling a marathon.  For my training today, I ran one of my favourite 21km courses from my home in Copa.  It has some long road stretches, some busy and some quiet, along with a few hills, including one really nasty one around halfway.  I felt good early, maybe the best this year, and was averaging 5 mins/km for the flat sections, but I could feel my legs getting very tired by the time I summited Ward's Hill.  By working harder, I maintained my momentum, but struggled on the last hill with three kilometres to go.

I finished comfortably, but am convinced I need to get in a couple of long road runs in the next two to three weeks if I want to reach an acceptable level of fitness for the marathon.  I haven't entered yet.

Quandary

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.