Missteps

Terrigal Trotters gather before a Saturday morning run.

This morning, with the sun not rising until after 7:00am and heavy cloud cover, it was very dark for the 6:00am Terrigal Trotters' "Avoca Steps" run.  The Club Committee, of which I am a member, has been encouraging runners to wear light coloured clothing and carry lights or wear headlamps for safety reasons.  The lights were definitely needed today.

I missed the start by three or four minutes because I was packing up the registration books, and by the time I started running, I might as well have been running solo.  Even with my headlight, which is lightweight but not particularly light, the pitch darkness as I climbed the steep dark Kurrawyba lane nearly brought me undone.  Negotiating some posts, I stood on a pavement edge and nearly went down.  Life number one!

Descending Tramway, a few runners were visible in the far distance under the street lighting, but the bulk of my 100+ club-mates were still way ahead.  I was very conscious of not pushing too hard early since I hadn't had time to warm up and remain worried about unduly stressing my heart, so I focused on running evenly and efficiently, sure I would start to catch people within the next few kilometres.  There is no lighting at all on the grass reserve beneath the trees bordering Avoca Lagoon, but I held my pace, relying on memory as much as my headlight.  Nearing the sandy border of the lagoon, I caught my friend, Wayne, who tried to warn me about a hole he had just tripped on, but was too late.  I felt my toes plant on the edge of a small but deep hole in the darkness and my heel stretch down into the nothingness, while my knee hyper-extended backwards stretching ligaments to breaking point.  It hurt momentarily, and I limped for a few steps, but I escaped serious injury.  Life number two!

The last hill on this morning's Trotters run was the climb
to the Skillion Lookout.

With a sense of good fortune, I continued around the lagoon edge and reached Avoca Drive, a long straight stretch with street-lighting where I picked up the pace and began to reel in some of the stragglers.  I was feeling tired, but maintaining form and regular breathing, when I reached the base of the Avoca Steps.  Again the headlamp proved its worth, delivering just enough light for me to pick out the steps as I tried to keep running.  In a couple of places, my path was hindered by runners who had become walkers, and I called for space to pass as I approached.  This didn't work for the last group near the top of the steps and I tried to go around them on the darkened border of the path.  I misjudged and stumbled to the ground in the gloom, but was again fortunate not to injure more than my pride.  Life number three.

Thereafter, I stayed upright, and although very tired over the last kilometres and struggling up the hills, I continued to catch runners and finished in a reasonable time.  I was happy with the run, and particularly happy that my heartbeat remained regular, despite the challenging hills.  However, I know I was lucky none of my little missteps in the dark resulted in torn muscles or ligaments.  On another day, I might have been looking at three weeks off with a soft-tissue injury or worse.  Part of the problem was that I was taking chances in the darkness to try and catch the field.  But for me, taking some calculated risks and accepting challenges are what life is about.  Sometimes you are lucky, and sometimes you're not.  It's the same with the risk of my heart problems recurring.  I could wrap myself in cotton wool, but that would be no life.

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!

Singapore

Looking towards Marina Bay, Singapore.

Another city I visited frequently for work during my 16 expatriate years was Singapore, which I found somewhat bland compared to, say, Hong Kong, in terms of topography, atmosphere and running opportunities.  The climate was also challenging, with the city state lying just north of the equator.  I remember one occasion, after flying in at noon and having no afternoon commitments, setting out in the early afternoon for a 12km run.  There was little shelter from the blazing sun and the humidity was extreme, but I considered myself indestructible.  Jet lag may also have been a factor, but for whatever reason, after about 8km I began to feel incredibly tired and light-headed and had to sit on a shaded park bench for ten minutes before I could continue.  I then slowly walked the remaining 4km back to the hotel.

The path along the Kallang River.

As hotel locations varied, so did my morning run routes, but the usual 11-12km started somewhere in downtown Singapore in pre-dawn darkness and headed down to Marina Bay from where I followed a path by the Kallang River northwards.  It was cooler in the dark, but that's relative, and it never took long to be dripping with sweat.  There would be a few early workers and exercisers about, but generally I had the place to myself.

East Coast Park.

After crossing the River, the run passed some darkened sports stadiums before entering a residential area of towering apartment blocks where the locals, including many schoolchildren, were setting out for their day.  At the manicured and verdant East Coast Park, which extends all the way to the airport, I turned right along a bike path back towards the city.  After crossing the river again, I ran past the historic Raffles Hotel into the CBD and the end of the run.  If I was smart, I had turned the air-conditioning up to the maximum in my room before I left, because it always took a long time to stop sweating, and it wasn't worth showering until I had.

Raffles Hotel.

I never tried a really long run in Singapore, but I'm sure it would be hard work, and I don't envy any serious distance runners living permanently in the country.

My 5km run went a little bit easier this morning, so I hope this is the start of feeling better.  I'm still checking my pulse all the time.  I don't know how long it will be before I take a regular heartbeat for granted again, if ever.

Glimmers

Terrigal Trotters preparing to leave Yarramalong for
Somersby along the Great North Walk trail

After a late night ensuring all of the Terrigal Trotters finished the 28km Yarramalong to Somersby trail run safely, I didn't get to bed until about 12:30am, still feeling a bit under the weather but happy that the runners, especially those new to night running, seemed to have enjoyed the experience.  It's always nice to organise an event that attracts interest and goes off well, but it's even more rewarding to see people willing to explore outside of their comfort zone and finish knowing they have accomplished something that would intimidate others.

McMasters Fire Trail

I slept in and woke feeling better than yesterday, but left going for a run until late morning on a beautiful warm and sunny spring day.  Having missed the trails last night I decided to run one of my favourite local 10km runs that incorporates McMasters Fire-Trail with some nice bush, though also some challenging hills.

This morning's run finished around Cockrone Lagoon

The further I ran, the better I felt and the more confident I was that whatever ailed me yesterday has passed.  The climbs were tough, but I didn't push it, and the trail sections were magic.  On the flat and downhill sections, I actually felt I was moving freely for a change, despite still nursing my right knee and taking care not to over-stretch the right Achilles tendon.  Of course my weekly mileage is down, so I should be feeling fresher, but the contrast to how I felt yesterday was stark.  Maybe there is a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel I have been running through for the past couple of months.  It's certainly nice to have a run that is almost 100% enjoyable for a change, but I'm not getting carried away just yet.

Nevertheless, it gives me hope that perseverance will yield results and that I should keep trying to run as often as possible, even when it is a grind.  I'm a believer in "use it or lose it" and once you start lowering your expectations, the outcome becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.  Additionally, it's sometimes easy to forget that although the hour of exercise each day might be hard work, painful, and not particularly enjoyable, the consequent well-being and quality of life bestowed on the other 23 hours of the day are a more-than-adequate reward.

Some kind of bug

Terrigal Trotters tackle the Hastings Road
hill during this morning's run
(courtesy: Adam Couchman)

Not much forward progress today, nor much to write about.  I had a sleepless night and woke with a headache, nausea and tired legs.  Hoping that the usual large mug of black coffee would give me a boost, I headed down to Terrigal Trotters for the Fragrant Garden-Erina Valley 11km run, one of my favourites on a beautiful Spring morning.  A slow 1.5km warm-up jog did not improve my sense of well-being, so I started the run cautiously hoping I would feel better later on, but I never did.

My legs were heavy all the way up the Terrigal Drive hill and I was well back in the field thinking I might end up walking at any moment.  I did walk up some of the later steeper hills and was, unusually, one of the last runners back to Terrigal, although I'm starting to wonder whether I should get used to it.  No doubt I have some kind of bug, and in a few days will feel better, but it's hard not to get depressed.

To top it off, I was planning to run, slowly, our first Trotters night trail run tonight - 28km from Yarramalong to Somersby - but that now seems very unwise.  I will still go, as the organiser, but it will be hard watching the 25 runners head off for a night of adventure.  Instead, I will drive to a few access points just to make sure everything's OK.

Chicago

Lincoln Park, Chicago

I only had a short jog scheduled for today, anyway, but I still found it hard, with the same issues as yesterday - breathlessness, excessive sweating and lead-leggedness.  I don't feel too bad when I'm not running, just a little fatigued, so I'm hoping I'll be healthy again shortly.  There is a tough 15km run scheduled for Terrigal Trotters tomorrow, so that will be a test.  As soon as I feel I'm healthy and running well again, I'll put together a training plan for the Hobart Marathon in January, my next best chance of running a sub-3 hour marathon, having given up on running well in the Melbourne Marathon, in just six weeks time.

Not having much to write about today, I thought I would revisit another of the regular morning running courses from my past.  Between 1987 and 1990, I held joint responsibility with a colleague for setting up the North American operation of my company in Chicago.  For a while, my colleague, who was based in Stockholm (I was based near London), and I alternated our time in Chicago and mostly stayed in a corporate apartment we leased.

Prior to this assignment, I had only visited Chicago once, briefly, and didn’t hold it in very high regard.  However, as I spent more time there I grew to love it and now rate it as one of my favourite cities.  I liked the cleanliness and professional bustle of the city, the friendliness of the people, and its classical stone buildings offset by the towering skyscrapers.  Tucked away everywhere were atmospheric little bars and bistros.  From our apartment on the southern edges of the central business district, I also grew to love my regular Chicago early morning run.

Along the Lake Michigan waterfront
to Chicago

The route headed north through the early morning quiet of the business district, known as The Loop (where I would be working later in the day), and joined LaSalle Street which took me across the very unimpressive Chicago River, more like a large drain, and out of the city.  After the river, North LaSalle Street traversed a couple of kilometres of quiet inner suburbs of picturesque old houses and apartment blocks to the famed Lincoln Park.  From there, my route followed a network of gravel paths and horse rides before skirting the north side of little Diversey Harbor to reach the vast Lake Michigan and turn south for the return to the city.

For five kilometres the route followed perfectly flat concrete paths along the Lake and I can remember flying along here, passing joggers at speed on my good days.  At the southern end, the path was squeezed between the busy multi-lane Lakeshore Drive and the Lake and one winter I vividly recall being hit hard in the chest by the stream of snow blasted from the side of a snow plough travelling the opposite direction along the Drive.  I could see it coming but there was nowhere to go.

The Chicago waterfront on a windy day

The snow plough experience paled, however, compared to another winter experience I had in the same area.  There was no path, but it was possible to run along a sort of wide sloping concrete shelf that bordered the lake.  At the edge of the shelf was a vertical drop of about half a metre into the deep lake.  If it had been windy, waves broke over the concrete shelf, and if cold, the breaking waves would freeze on the concrete.  One morning I was running along there in the winter pre-dawn darkness, trying to dodge the iciest sections, when I slipped and fell.  It was bad enough landing on the rock hard ice, but soon I became aware of a worse fate.  I was sliding, on my back,  down the ice-covered concrete slope towards the drop-off into the semi-frozen lake.  I spread my arms, trying to reduce my weight and catch one of the icy ridges caused by the waves.  After about five metres, with about ten to go, I managed to stop myself and then very gingerly got onto my hands and knees and crawled up the slope and off the ice.  It was dark, there was nobody around, and I have often wondered how long it would have taken for them to find my body if I had gone into the lake.  There was no way I could have climbed out or survived long enough to swim to safety.  I continued to use the same route in winter, but ran very carefully, and as near the top of the concrete ledge as I could go, walking if necessary.

The last part of the run crossed the open parks in front of the Art Institute of Chicago and back to the city and the apartment.

As far as “garbage” runs go, this was quite a long course (16.5km), but it was flat and fast and usually took around an hour.  I experienced it in the rank humidity of a Chicago summer and the way-below-freezing temperatures of a Chicago winter, and have very fond memories of both.

St Mary's Peak

Wilpena Pound, South Australia

One of the reasons I love running, is that it enables me to go places and see things that are not as readily accessible to other people.  This is particularly true of National Parks and other wild areas, but things don't always go smoothly.

The Flinders Ranges in South Australia has been one of my favourite places to visit and run for many years, but was also the location for one of my minor running dramas.  In May 1977, we had journeyed there with another couple, travelling in separate vehicles, and arrived in mid-afternoon and set up camp.  Inspired by the great scenery, I decided that I could squeeze in a long run before sundown and set out at 4pm to run a loop from the campground up to St Mary's Peak, and then return through Wilpena Pound, a huge natural amphitheatre.  This was advertised as a full-day 22km hike, but I left confident that I could do it in a couple of hours and looked forward to the sunset from the 1171 metre St Mary's Peak en route.

The view from St Mary's Peak

The first 3km climbed gradually, but was quite runnable along a dry bush trail with the rim of the Pound looming to my left.  But the next few kilometres climbed very steeply, and despite trying to run all but the rock-climbing bits, it was very slow going.  The sky was heavily overcast and twilight was approaching when I finally reached the ridge that edged Wilpena Pound.  Even though light was fading, I still made the one kilometre journey along the rim and up to St Mary's Peak, despite more very slow going.  I have always had trouble backing down on a plan once decided.  Some might call it stubbornness.  The sunset was everything I had hoped for.  It was exhilarating standing on the Peak, all alone, surveying the vast plains to the west and the chain of clearly defined and stratified mountains stretching away to the north.  Here and there was a twinkle of light marking a settlement of some sort.

Having enjoyed the moment, I now began to focus on the task ahead of me - getting back to camp before dark.  Common sense would have dictated a return via the same route, which was a lot shorter, but I was determined to follow my original plan and began a helter-skelter descent into the middle of the Pound along a rough track in gathering gloom.

Inside Wilpena Pound......in daylight!

By the time I reached the valley floor it was almost pitch dark, but the trail had improved, was more even underfoot and with its route defined by the bordering vegetation.  This was fine for a few kilometres, but as it got even darker, the vegetation became sparser and the sandy trail almost impossible to follow.  I moved forward at snail's pace peering into the darkness to confirm I was still on the trail.  It was clear that if I lost the trail, the chances of finding it again in the darkness were negligible and I would be spending my night in the Pound.  Whenever I felt I may have lost the trail, I retraced my steps to a known place and then resumed my cautious progress.  Several times, I was literally down on my knees feeling for the sand of the trail with my hands to determine it's existence and direction.

Eventually, I reached the creek the trail followed out of the Pound and back to the campsite through a rocky gorge.  In places the narrow and rough trail hugged the rocky and steep banks just above the creek and on two occasions I fell into the inky black water.  Fortunately, it was only knee deep.  The trail became easier to follow as I neared the campground and I reached the camp office around 8pm to find my wife and friends consulting with the Park Ranger about a rescue plan.  Very embarrassing.

After yesterday's run, and in bed last night, my arthritic right knee was sore, so I decided to run this morning without the arch support insoles I have been wearing the last ten days.  I hoped this might ease the strain on my suspect knee, but I also knew I needed to be wary of aggravating the right arch problem.  The solution seemed to be a shorter run, which is what I did.  The arch stung a little the whole way, but the knee seemed to welcome the change.

I have some different insoles on order, that are a little lower in the arch, and I hope, a little lighter than the current version.  They should be here by now, and when they do arrive, my hope is that they will be part of the transition back to running without the special insoles.

Tempo runs

As I feared, this morning's easy 5km run, after two days of light running and two days off to rest my sore right arch, was inconclusive.  I didn't feel the minor burning pain after half a kilometre or so, as earlier in the week, but it didn't feel 100% either.  As I warmed up during the run, I moved more freely and felt better.  There remained some minor discomfort in the arch, although it's not as bad as earlier in the week.

Later in the day, I went for a 5km walk with the same result.  No real pain, but a sense of warmth, and maybe inflammation, in the arch.  It's hard to know what's best.  Maybe a slow build up in mileage would make most sense, but I also don't want to waste more training time if it has repaired enough to resume normal training.  Tomorrow is the annual Terrigal Trotters Handicap 10km Time Trial, which provides the chance for a fast run, something I need.

Hard runs at speed form an important, and often shirked, part of a training program.  I find it difficult to do these tempo, or speed endurance, runs solo (though many do).  I have always found it easiest, and most effective, to run fast with a group.  The competitive juices flow and there's peer group pressure to hang in there when the going gets tough.  In the various clubs I have belonged to over the years, in Australia and the UK, there has usually been a weekday evening tempo run of 15 to 20 kilometres.  We all head out at a modest sociable clip, but finish at virtual race pace.  For a few years, my club's (Kew Camberwell) Tuesday 15 kilometre evening run from Olympic Park in Melbourne was a classic.  Below is an edited copy of an article I wrote for the Club's May 1980 Newsletter about the run.

__________________________________________________________

TUESDAY NIGHT TRAINING

The clicking of the turnstiles is answered by the clicking of the wristwatches as the runners file out of "the Park".  The first "hurdle" is encountered almost immediately.  The runners dash twixt rush hour commuter cars across Batman Avenue.  Ken baulks and misses a gap, losing 50 metres immediately (he "hates this ******* course!").  The main pack moves on towards Anderson Street hill with Ken almost catching us before he misses the lights at Alexandra Avenue and loses another 50 metres (he "hates this ******* course!").  The pace picks up as we ascend the hill with Andy making the running and occasionally expectorating on the pack to make sure they kept their distance.  This occasional shower for the following runners usually elicits some good-natured comment from Pratty such as "Do you want a punch in the face, Andy?".  Undeterred, Andy presses on.  Ken catches the bunch.  At the top of the hill, those who are already finding the pace a bit hot announce that they "were only going to do track training tonight, anyway" and continue around The Tan back to the Park where they do something easier like 20 X 300 metres in 45 seconds with 100 metre recoveries.




Some members of the Kew Camberwell distance squad
 at Olympic Park, Melbourne, in 1977.
(l. to r. JB, me, Kev, Dicky, Rod, Ray and Ken)

The pack heads off towards Fawkner Park at an ever-increasing rate with Greg now sitting on Andy's shoulder and Stan covering them both. JB and Pratty, at the back of the pack, chat nostalgically about the good old days when training pace never exceeded six-minute miles.  Ken gets caught again by the traffic at Toorak Road (he "hates this ******* course!").  We skirt the edge of Fawkner Park with everybody making sure everybody else runs around the correct trees.  Greg is really starting to push the pace a bit now. Andy spits on Pratty again - more good-natured banter.  Everybody is psyching themselves up for the next big obstacle: St Kilda Road - four lanes of traffic trams and traffic lights.  You can see Ken sweating in anticipation.  With much whooping and hollering, we dash across.  Brakes squeal, tram drivers curse and we all make it - except for Ken (he "hates this ******* course!") who loses 50 metres.  We cross Queens Road in similar fashion and encounter a new obstacle: Albert Park Golf Course in the pitch darkness.  Those who don't run into trees, fall into bunkers, trip over raised greens or drown in ponds, build up a good lead by the time we reach the Lake.

The Lake is a dangerous place.  Dangerous because Ken makes way for no man, as a number of cyclists on the bike path will testify.  Heading north along the western side through the hockey fields the pace is really on.  Greg and Andy are striding out.  Conversation has dropped to a minimum and the only sounds are heavy breathing (particularly Cashy) and the monotonous click of Stan's ankle.  A few fences are encountered and JB's steeple-chasing skills get him a 20 metre break, though this is quickly made up as he swerves to avoid being clobbered by the backswing of an overzealous hockey player.  We round South Melbourne Cricket Ground and run along Albert Road towards the Shrine.  Moves are coming from everywhere.  Stan makes a break up the service road with Dave in hot pursuit.  Ray, under cover of darkness and trees, moves up on the inside.  Fortunately, Ray's break is halted by a red light (traffic variety) at Queens Road and we all catch up.

A good position is vital now, as we have to negotiate several major roads before the long surge northwards along St Kilda Road.  Ken gets caught again and loses another 50 metres (he "hates this ******* course!").  The race is really on now with Dave, Pratty and Ray pushing to get to the front, and JB and Andy attempting to block.  Andy spits on Pratty again, and receives a good-natured tap on the shoulder that nearly knocks him over.  There are more pedestrians around now and quick thinking is called for.  Cashy nearly runs Dave into a traffic light and is then, in turn, steered into a post by Dave as we round Princes Gate Station.  It's on for young and old.

Dave puts on the pressure along Flinders Street, but is nearly fouled out by a rather stout Italian lady who steps sideways at a critical moment.  Ken is getting scared - a missed traffic light now and he knows he won't recover.  Pratty's crossed the road and piles it on.  Cashy, JB, Ray, Stan and Andy settle back to a leisurely 5:30 pace whilst Dave and Ken chase Pratty.  Ken misses the light (he "hates this ******* course!").  Has Pratty made his move too soon?  Self doubt takes over as Dave comes up to his shoulder and they race up the Lansdowne Street hill.  At the top, Dave eases off, but Pratty doesn't and surges past - the race isn't over yet.....

Getting fitter

Monday, 17 June 2013

An early appointment meant that I had to get up early if I wanted to squeeze my planned long run in beforehand.  Given how jaded I felt on yesterday’s run, I gave myself over an hour of “wake up” time before I hit the road at 5:45am for my 33km.

1976 Australian Olympic Trial Marathon (2nd from left)
[14th, 2:37:33]

To my surprise, I didn’t feel too bad in the first kilometre.  Of course, I’m speaking relatively and to any observer I would have looked like an old bloke going for a very slow and shambling jog, but I could feel that the leg muscles were in better shape than the last few days.

It wasn’t going to be light for the first 45 minutes, but I had shied away from carrying a light or wearing reflective gear because I was going to be out for so long.  So, for the early kilometres, including a long section of road made narrow by roadworks, I ran very defensively making sure I was well off the road surface for any oncoming vehicle and never assuming the driver had seen me.  I’m sure a few drivers would have cursed me as I suddenly loomed in their headlights, but it was safe.

After that initial period, it turned into a beautiful morning for running as the sun rose and I cruised at better than jogging pace along roads busy with commuter traffic.

Any route from Copa involves quite a lot of hills and this 33km course was no exception.  I expected the climbs to gradually wear me down but it was only really the last five kilometres that became hard.

I finished in 2:55, an acceptable if not spectacular time for this course.  That’s only 5:20 mins/km pace and just a week ago, when I was definitely less fit, I could manage a 3:24 marathon at 4:50 mins/km pace.  I still find it amazing how a competitive event lifts my physical and mental performance.  However, have come to accept and rely on it, and don’t let apparently slow training runs bother me anymore.  It’s always nice to run well in training, but so long I do the training, regardless of how I feel, I can have confidence that my body will respond as I want when race day arrives.

Pre-dawn "Edventures"

Saturday, 15 June 2013

I got up at 4:30am with a slight headache and not feeling in the least like running a hard 15km at 6am.  I went through my usual pre-Trotters Saturday morning routine, including preparing the post-run drinks (it’s my turn this month), and by the time we set off at 6am, was feeling a little better, though not perfect.



Enzo's Edventure Route.  Terrigal Trotters publishes maps
of all its 33 Saturday morning runs on the Club's website.

As usual, I had reviewed the run scheduled for this morning, Enzo’s Edventure, last night to make sure I knew the route.  This is one of the more infrequently run courses and is quite complicated, linking up lots of road sections with short legs through parks, bush and suburban laneways.  Even though I had done it before, I still needed some effort to memorise the trickier sections and knew that there would be Trotters getting lost all over the place (but they would take it in good humour).  I also realised that some of the more obscure park and bush legs would be run in pre-dawn darkness, and for the first time, I packed a headlamp for the Trotters run.  The Committee, of which I am a member, has been emphasising safety and the use of lights when running in darkness, so I feel some responsibility to set a good example.

As it turned out, in the early stages of the run the headlamp proved very useful and nearby runners were grateful for the light it shed as we negotiated some of the challenging off-road sections.  I had already decided not to try to stay with the front-runners, even though I felt able to chase them down up the early steep hills.  It was a tough course and I was sure that once with them, I would not be able to resist hanging on to the end as best I could.  It would be good training, but my legs still had traces of marathon fatigue and stiffness and the risks of tearing something were significant.

Instead, I settled into a comfortable, but quickish pace (probably around 4:30 mins/km) and gradually left the bulk of the runners behind.  There were some very steep hills around the 9-10km mark which exposed my leg fatigue, but I was still moving quite well and always felt I could go faster if I wanted.  The only issue was my chronic right knee problem that was getting painful at times.

The last two kilometres of the “official” course was back along the steeply sloping beach between Wamberal and Terrigal.  The slope was down to the left, which is the camber my knee hates most, but the desire to run the “official” route, even though there was an equidistant road alternative, was too great.  Once on the beach, the lack of runner tracks made it clear that those in front of me had chosen the road.  I slowed my pace, and favoured my bad knee as much as possible finishing the 15.3km course in a reasonable time (1:24) given its challenging nature.  It was a good hit-out and I’m looking forward to mixing it with the front-runners, all of them ten or more years younger, next Saturday, and thereafter.

In the dark

Friday, 14 June 2013

Golf was on the agenda again for today, so I rose early to squeeze in my easy 5km, and headed out soon after 5am.  Only having been out of bed for 30 minutes, I really hadn’t loosened up and, as expected, it was a very slow first few kilometres.  Gone are the days when, during my working life, my routine involved rising at 5am and hitting the road for a (frequently quick) 10-12km at 5:30am.  Age certainly slows you down and I rarely feel loose until I have run 5km, or up a significant hill, these days.



Running at night is not a problem at New York Road Runners
New Year's Midnight Run

Anyway, it was a routine 5km through the very dark streets and I didn’t press the pace.  When living in the northern hemisphere, it seemed I never saw daylight during my morning runs for three or four months every year.  I never carried a light, but did wear a reflective vest and developed the habit on the darkest streets of running down the middle of the road where the surface was most reliable, ready to move to the left or right, depending on the direction of any approaching traffic.  This generally worked well enough in the ambient light, although I did have the occasional surprise.

One morning, running along a hedged English country lane I was nearly hit head-on by a van travelling at high speed with no lights on.  I suspect criminality was involved.  On another occasion, in the US, I stumbled on  thieves breaking a car window with a hammer.  I yelled very loudly and then took off at high speed down a side street.  My worst experience, however, occurred while running for a short distance on a sealed footpath alongside a main road in England unaware that, since the last time I ran the route, the Council had installed some concrete bollards across the path at a farm entrance.  I smashed my knee at tempo running pace into one of the bollards and went down like I had been shot.  The pain was excruciating and I spent several minutes lying on the damp pavement in the pitch darkness trying to work out what had happened before limping home.

There were no such incidents this morning.  I noticed that my right Achilles tendon hasn’t been quite as stiff and sore this week, which is a good sign, but my right knee still has stiffness from the marathon and I sense fatigue still lurks deep in the muscles.

Loosening up

Thursday, 30 May 2013

My right Achilles was sore from the moment I got up.  I hobbled around trying not to stress it while I got ready for the regular 6:00am Thursday track training session that I supervise at Terrigal Haven.  I use the word “supervise” somewhat loosely, because the sessions, which are attended by about ten of my Terrigal Trotters’ friends, would happen whether I was there or not.  I do map out a program tailored towards peaking for several major marathons, and I think everybody is happy to have someone else tell them what to do.  The sessions last about an hour and I don’t do much more than spell out what the session entails and offer encouragement and sometimes advice on injuries or to novices.  I enjoy the camaraderie and try to keep walking around to loosen up for my own run, which will follow.



Terrigal Haven, where the Thursday morning track
sessions occur.

The runners prefer to do the sessions on the grass rugby oval, even though it is very dark to start in winter, and some wear headlamps.  This morning, in addition to the marker cones I traditionally use to define the lap, I brought along some cheap LED lights ($1 per unit) I had purchased on eBay and put them out with the cones.  It worked well, I think.

The walking around while the runners ran their laps loosened my Achilles and when the session was over, I was ready to run.  After the runners left, I stripped off at my car and set off to run a 22.5km circuit as my day’s training.  My quads felt very tight and heavy right from the start and I resigned myself to a laborious two hours of running.  I tried not to push at all and, early on, worried about a few niggles, especially in my left hip that had been the site of some problems in the last two years.  My chronic right knee injury hurt, but I expected that and knew it would cope.  Thankfully, the shooting pain I briefly experienced climbing the stairs soon after rising this morning did not return.  So many things that can go wrong with a runner’s body, that I often wonder how (and why) we keep going.

I plodded along, negotiating the substantial hills en route, and just tried to ignore the muscle fatigue and stiffness.  It’s all about risk management, really.  It did feel risky setting out on a two-hour run when my muscles were so fatigued.  However, it is also true that just five days ago I had hiked nearly 50km in a day carrying a 20kg pack at the end of many days’ of hiking.  It seems reasonable, that so long as I run slowly, I should be able to manage 22km.

I finished in 2:06, which though slow, was faster than I had expected or felt like I was running.  I savoured my warm-down 15 minute walk around the perimeter of The Haven in the warming sunshine.  Injuries often show up one or two days later, so I can’t be sure whether my decision to run was wise.  For the moment, I’m still on track.