Just can't help myself

My run this morning circled Avoca Lagoon.

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

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

Avoca Lagoon.

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

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

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

Slow progress

The Bouddi Coastal Track approaching Killcare.

I wasn't expecting the long run today to be easy, and it didn't disappoint.  Despite taking it very slowly from the start, and walking most of the step and steep sections I encountered, the Bouddi Coastal Track gradually wore me down as I suspected it would.  It's never a fast course because those bits that aren't technical are often sandy, but today would be the slowest I have ever travelled.  I kept remembering leading a group along here nearly ten years ago and not walking any of it.  Those were the days.

Looking towards Broken Bay and Lion Island.

Going slow, however, was also the plan to avoid putting any excessive strain on my heart, so I kept reminding myself that I was being sensible, not weak.  Another trick to keeping it slow was to take lots of photographs along the way.  Although it was overcast and humid, with only occasional sunny spells, the visibility was reasonable and it's truly a beautiful place to run with lots of overlooks and some magic trail sections.

Trail above Pretty Beach.

Around 12km, I tripped and fell twice in quick succession, perhaps an indication of my increasing fatigue.  The first fall took a small chunk out of the heel of my right hand which started to bleed.  Being on Warfarin, I'm hypersensitive to the risks of excessive bleeding or bruising from falls, and had toyed with the idea of carrying some first aid gear for this run, but decided against.  Fortunately, it didn't bleed too much, but unfortunately, the second time I fell, the impact was on exactly the same part of the hand.  It hurt, and filled the gash with fresh grit, but didn't bleed any more.  "Toughen up, princess!"

Looking down on Hardy's Bay.

I had drunk some water at a campground around 10km and stopped in at a small store for some Powerade at about 17km, which tasted good but was so cold it gave me a brain freeze.  I was tired and very sweaty, but plodded on, making myself run everything that wasn't steeply uphill.  At 23km, I had another drink of water from a tap at the Maitland Bay Carpark, and then just jogged most of the next 6km before walking the last 2km home.

It's disappointing to feel so unfit, and I'm still coming to terms with the possibility that I may never run these distances easily again, but two months ago I was wondering whether I would ever be running again, so I know things can change.........and even if they don't, I'm better off than I was.

Not competing

Leading a 1500m Interclub event at Doncaster,
Victoria, in mid-1980s.

It's hard not to be competitive when you have been for your whole life.  Today's Terrigal Trotters 10km Time Trial was to be a test of my newfound resolve not to get competitive in the wake of my recent lung and heart problems.

Only a month ago, I had declared that I wasn't going to run any races for the next six months, at least, while I educated myself through experience about what I could and could not do.  That education is happening, faster than expected.  I'm not nearly as concerned now, when I head out for a run, as I was a month ago when I was anxiously self-assessing during and after each run.  Confidence in my heart health is growing with every safely completed run, though I still take my pulse multiple times each day to check the beat is regular and the rate low.

When I run a little further or harder, such as for last Sunday's long trail run, or today's 10km race, I'm gently pushing against the edge of my fitness envelope, putting a little more strain on my cardiovascular system while recognising that my musculoskeletal system also needs time to retrain after several months off.  Each time I push that envelope edge out a little, I gain confidence and am less anxious next time I run the same distance or speed.

Today, I started out with a gentle 3.5km warm-up around the same loop I had warmed up on for my last Trotters Time Trial at the end of December.  Vivid memories of breathlessness and heart palpitations on the first hill of the warm-up that time gave me a good benchmark against which to measure my current health, and it was pleasing to negotiate it, and the remainder of the warm-up, comfortably.

When the race itself started, at 6:00am, I eased into it, determined not to run faster than was wise, and watched the leaders disappear rapidly into the distance as even the slower parts of the field drifted past me.  I was expecting to be near the back, but it was still hard to watch friends who were unlikely to run faster than 50 minutes, slowly draw away.  I told myself to suck it up and keep running easily.

A couple of kilometres into the race, I began to feel more comfortable (how come I didn't feel that way from the start, having done a reasonable warm-up?) and to slowly catch some of the people who had passed me earlier.  Once that started to happen, I had to keep reminding myself not to consciously chase people down, but to keep my focus on maintaining a good rhythm with relaxed breathing.  Of course, I was only partially successful, and derived some competitive pleasure from slowly reeling people in as they emerged from the pre-dawn darkness ahead of me.

Approaching the turn, it was sobering to see how far I was behind the leaders, but I tried not too dwell on it.  Instead, I focussed on some of the people who were not so far ahead and who I might be able to catch if I maintained my present pace and form.  Among them was friend, Bruce, who had left me for dead on last Sunday's long run and would not want me to catch him today.  I concentrated hard on keeping my breathing and pace steady, but had a couple of moments on short rises where I may have detected some pressure in my chest, and backed off the pace a little.  It's impossible to know whether such moments are minor heart flutters, or just chest discomfort from running harder for the first time in months.  On each occasion, I quickly returned to my rhythm and didn't really lose any momentum. I caught Bruce with a few kilometres to go and finished tired, but not exhausted, in 47:36, maybe a little faster than expected.

I have checked my heartbeat a number of times since and it seems to be strong and regular so maybe the misbeats were just my imagination.  Historically, my time was slow, but the chances of running near 40 minutes, as was my target four months ago, have probably gone.  However, it's reasonable to think I will run faster without increased effort, as I lose the four kilograms of extra weight I'm carrying and my musculoskeletal system tunes up, and that's some comfort.

Benchmarks

Near the start of the Avoca Steps.

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

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

More of the Avoca Steps.

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

Further up the Avoca Steps.

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

The final section of the Avoca Steps.

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

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

A big day

Rolet de Castella (#95) on his way to his first
sub-3 marathon at age 57.

Earlier this month, I wrote a post about Robert de Castella and earlier this week, on ABC Radio, I heard him interviewed at length.  During the conversation, the running background of Rolet de Castella, Rob's father, was discussed.  I didn't know Rolet well, just enough to say hello, but I did know that he was one of those runners who had defied the odds and revived their running careers after severe heart problems.  Rolet had a stroke in 1974 at age 50, and a heart attack a year later, but loved his running so much he was soon back on the roads each time.  In 1975 he read about the Pritikin Regression diet, adopted it, and was soon running seriously again.  By coincidence, the 1979 Victorian Amateur Athletic Association Marathon Championship was a very big event for Rolet, Rob and me.  I found an article by Dick Batchelor in the Spring 1979 edition of the Victorian Marathon Club Newsletter about that day.
=======================================================================

DE CASTELLA'S DAY - Dick Batchelor.

The remarkable 2:14:22 run by Rob deCastella at Point Cook on June 23rd means that Australia now has at least five world-class marathon runners (Chettle, Barrett, Scott & Wardlaw are the others).  These five enjoy a clear margin of four or five minutes over other Australian runners.  Australia must take its full quota to Moscow next year.

First event at Point Cook was the inaugural Victorian Women's Marathon Championship, starting at 12:30 in perfect conditions - cool and almost windless.  Very fittingly, the event was won by Lavinia Petrie, who has fought for such a race for several years.  It must be said that the women's times were rather slow, but we hear that such accomplished performers as Angela Cook are training for their debuts, so standards could rise dramatically.  Results: 1. Lavinia Petrie 3:02:07; 2. Kathie McLean 3:04:33; 3. Jacquie Turney 3:25:29; 4. Barbara Fay 3:25:55; 5. Glenda Humphreys 3:30:18.

Most of the 136 finishers in the men's event improved on their best times, with increments of 5 or 10 minutes not uncommon.  The "traditional" course was used, an out and back journey with only one hill (an overpass) to be negotiated!  When I saw the leaders after they had rounded the turn, Vic Anderson was striding powerfully in front (67:15 turn) with deCastella (67:29) and John Bermingham running side by side about 25m back, followed by Paul 0'Hare (67:31), Dave Byrnes (67:45), Graeme Kennedy (68:05), Bob Guthrie (68:22) and Neil McKern (68:35).

At 16 miles deCastella took the lead, Bermingham dropped out but big Vic and the others kept hammering away.  At 20 miles, from all accounts (your correspondent by then being several miles back down the road), Pat Clohessy urged de Castella to speed up and he cleared away from his pursuers, covering the final 3 miles in under 15 min!

The very consistent Dave Byrnes came through strongly in the closing stages to be second in a PB 2:19:06 with Vic Anderson third after doing so much of the early pace.  As the clock approached the 3½ hours cut-off, few people noticed a compact and mature runner who crossed the line in 127th place – 3:25:14.  Four years ago this man suffered a severe heart attack, despite having been a regular jogger.  Encouraged perhaps by the athletic achievements of his two sons, this man rehabilitated his health with a stepped up running program and careful dieting.  He completed his first marathon last year and June 23rd was his first time under 3½ hours.  His name? Rolet deCastella, and what a unique "double" he and his son achieved on June 23, 1979, at Point Cook!!

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Rolet went on to run many more marathons, including a 2:58 at age 57.  He died of a heart attack while out running at age 73.

Just an easy 5km for me today.

Las Vegas Marathon

The early part of the 1986 Las Vegas Marathon course.

Running can add another dimension to travelling, whether for business or pleasure, and there are many posts in this blog describing the places where I have been fortunate enough to run.  Including races in travel plans can add even more to the experience.

In 1985 and 1986, my then wife, Barb, and I spent a year touring the US and Canada on a very tight budget ($20 a day plus fuel) in a campervan and ran a number of races.  Perhaps the most memorable was the Las Vegas Marathon in February 1986.  We arrived the afternoon before the race and collected our race numbers from a local running shop before going to the Polynesian Hotel ($15 per night!) on the recommendation of the running shop proprietor.  We were so poor we couldn't afford the pasta party, and instead, cooked some spaghetti bolognese in our campervan in the hotel car park and smuggled it up to our room.

The towers of Las Vegas began to take shape in the
far distance on the 1986 Las Vegas Marathon course.

On race morning, we joined our fellow competitors for the journey to the start on one of those cramped yellow American school buses.  The start was 42.2km south of town along the famed Las Vegas Boulevard, near a small local airport with minimal facilities in the middle of the desert.  By this point, the Boulevard was little more than a service road paralleling Interstate 15, the freeway to Los Angeles.  On arrival, competitors scattered in all directions into the desert looking for suitable bushes behind which to complete pre-race toileting with a modicum of privacy.

Crossing the finish line in the 1986 Las
Vegas Marathon (10th, 2:31).

To say the course was boring was an understatement.  It followed the virtually straight road all the way back to Las Vegas and the finish.  The first 13km involved a gradual climb, but then, after the course crested a rise, glimpses of the casino towers of Las Vegas were occasionally in view, shimmering in the distance.  We ran towards them, but as time passed, they never seemed to get any closer.  The scale of the vista was immense, with plenty of desert and few nearby topographical features. It was a soul-destroying place to race, but finally the city outskirts were reached.  After a few more kilometres and a few turns, we finished in the back lots behind the casinos.

Barb was second-placed female overall, and I was first in the Male 35-39 category and tenth overall.  We hung around the finish for a while, eating the free goodies, before returning to our hotel.  Later, we attended the race presentation in another hotel and discovered Barb had won $750 for her effort and I received $350 for my category win.  Neither of us had any interest in gambling but we splurged on some cheap restaurant meals before moving on the next day, one of the few couples to leave Las Vegas a lot wealthier than when we arrived.

For my training today, I ran an easy 5km around Copa, which was faster than expected.  I'm beginning to feel good.  How long can it last?

Cautious optimism

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

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

McMasters Firetrail on this morning's run.

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

Cockrone Lagoon on this morning's run.

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

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

Cadging a lift

Erina Valley this morning.

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

Climbing Kincumba Mt this morning.

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

Starting the technical descent from
Kincumba Mt this morning.

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

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

Maitland Bay

Strom's Track this morning.

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

Maitland Bay this morning.

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

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

Maitland Bay this morning.

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

Maitland Bay this morning.

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

Bouddi Coastal Track this morning.

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

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

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

Signs are good

It was a little gloomy at Terrigal Haven this morning.

It was heart-warming at this morning's 6:00am Haven track session to have so many friends say how pleased they were for me on my return to running.

It is good to be running again, though I started my own 11km run after the track session with some apprehension.  Yesterday's heart monitor read-out after my 5km run showed a very irregular pattern for the first ten minutes, and I had felt a little uncomfortable during that time.  Today's run started with a good-sized hill, which I knew would be a good test of my heart rhythm, even if I took it slowly.  I reached the top without incident, as happened on the second long hill near the end.  Although I felt tired and unfit the whole way, it was satisfying to return to another of my regular courses.  Once home, I loaded the heart monitor data, fearing the worst, but found no evidence of any problems.

Looking north from Terrigal Haven this morning.

The next test for the day, about which I was also apprehensive, was a noon appointment with my cardiologist to check progress since the cardioversion three weeks ago.  He started with an electrocardiograph and followed it with a blood pressure test.  The former showed my heart continues to beat in sinus rhythm and the latter read 115/78.  All good!  We then had a conversation about my prognosis during which he said I could resume my normal life.  I was particularly interested in the viability of a long backcountry hiking trip I hope to make later in the year down the Appalachian Trail in the US.  He said that, subject to carrying some precautionary medication, there was no reason to cancel, though he wants to see me again before I go.

Terrigal Haven this morning.

The possibility of reversion to Atrial Flutter remains (as high as 50% according to some research), but apparently my risk factors are low.  The way forward is becoming clearer and my optimism is growing.  I will continue running, but avoid racing, and resume planning my hiking trip.  It could be a lot worse.

Changing expectations

Bouddi National Park coastline.

I can already sense my mindset changing, and much more quickly than expected.

When you can't run, you tell yourself you will be satisfied with just being able to jog 5km a day.  When you get to jogging 5km a day, you tell yourself you will be satisfied if you can just run 10km per day, with the occasional long run.  And so it goes.  Before long, you will just be satisfied if you can get back to the fitness level you enjoyed before sustaining the injury.

Lovely single-track in Bouddi
National Park.

This has always the pattern for me when dealing with a serious running injury, but somehow I thought the life-threatening health scare at Christmas might lead to an attitude change.  In some ways it's frightening, and in other ways comforting, to find that, post-injury, little has changed.  Scary, because it worries me that I'm not paying sufficient heed to the risks of reversion to heart arrhythmia and the impact that may have on my future quality of life.  Comforting, because it's good to know that my problems haven't changed me that much.

The fire-trail down to
Little Beach.

I made it around the 14km Trotters run on Saturday (see post titled Looking up) with no apparent ill-effects.  After two subsequent easier running days, I asked myself this morning why shouldn't I run a bit further today, and maybe hit one of my favourite local trails.  Part of my reasoning related to the psychological boost I would get from returning to my usual running haunts, and part of the reasoning was that the further I ran in training, the sooner I would regain fitness and the easier running would become.

The more I run, the less focussed I am on my heartbeat and breathing.  I'm finding that a conscious decision to run within myself is sufficient to keep my breathing controlled and my heartbeat within comfortable limits.  I'm wearing a heart monitor now for my runs and it confirms that my heart rate is averaging around 150bpm during runs, reaching a maximum of around 160bpm.  It seems to me that, though getting my heart rate higher would accelerate my return to fitness, I will still benefit from longer easier runs, healthwise and weightwise.

Little Beach this morning.

I ran about 13km today along trails to the deserted Little Beach on a warm and sunny morning.  I walked up the steepest hill, and stopped a couple of times for views and photos, but still worked up a very good sweat.  On the downside, my chronic right knee injury was quite painful at times.  It doesn't seem like the time off running, during which it was not painful at all, had done it any good.  But the pain is a price I'm happy to pay just to be running again.

Ouch!

Not good news!

After two months of no running, and despondency about my health problems, I know I have put on some weight.  The shorts are a little tighter, as are the T-shirts, and I can't see as many ribs in the mirror.  Up until today, I had tried not to worry about it too much.  Dealing with health concerns and the inability to run were stress enough without beating myself up about my eating or weight (see my blog post about Compensatory Eating).

On Saturday I managed to run 14km, and have now run every day for nearly two weeks.  Although not out of the woods, health-wise, it's time to get back to normal.  "Normal" includes weighing myself regularly and trying to stay at, or below, 68kg.  Not only do I feel healthier at that weight (and my clothes fit better), but it reduces the chances of injury.  I do have a chronic right knee problem (see post titled Adaptation), and it has been quite sore since I resumed running.  I firmly believe that weighing less will alleviate some of the strain.

Much faster and lighter at Croydon in the UK in 1975.

Anyway, after my run this morning, I stepped on the scales for the first time in over two months - 74.0kg!  It was demoralising to see this number, and a big wake-up call.  Even though I can't run the kilometres I would like, I can exert more discipline over what I eat.  It's time to get back onto my "no snacks, no desserts and no second helpings" diet with small breakfasts and lunches.  Occasional treats will be allowed, but I need to be much more strict overall.

My 5km run was a little faster and more comfortable this morning, though my right knee hurt and I'm still running slowly.

Realising potential

This morning's run passed by the famous Melbourne
Cricket Ground.

In a previous post, I wrote about the attributes I consider keys to reaching the top as a runner (and most fields of endeavour) - the right genes (natural talent), hard work and luck.  This is simplistic, of course, but in my chosen sport of long-distance running, the champions seem to have all three.

For this morning's run, I travelled into the East Melbourne apartment of an old friend, Bill, and we ran about 8km down to, and around, the Tan Track and back.  Bill is a formidable performer in any field of endeavour he chooses.  I first met him at University where we were both doing our Masters degrees, and he was way ahead of the class.  He is also an accomplished musician, has reached the pinnacle of his chosen academic profession, and is a quality cyclist and runner.

Looking up Anderson Street Hill on Melbourne's
Tan Track.

In all these fields, he has leveraged some good genes with fierce dedication and focus to explore his considerable potential and reach elite levels.  He's not a person who's going to die wondering "What if?" or whether he got the best out of himself.  I have always respected his attitude and sometimes wondered whether I could have been a better runner if I had his self-discipline.

Luck wasn't on his side in running and cycling, with crippling injuries shortening his competitive career, but he was hard to beat, especially over distances from 10km to 25km.  Nowadays, he's content to run for an hour most days, chronic injuries permitting, and doesn't run competitively, reasoning that this will extend his running life.  He has advised me to do the same, and I can see the wisdom of this approach.  Maybe that is what I will end up doing.

Melbourne's Tan Track.

Bill took mercy on me this morning, and we jogged our 8km at the princely speed of 6 minutes per kilometre.  The run included the famed Anderson Street hill, about which I was somewhat apprehensive, but it passed without incident and my pulse was still beating regularly when we finished.  My right calf was sore and my joints and legs ached, but it was great to be running with an old friend on a picture perfect morning around some of our old haunts.

Walking and pondering

The backlots of McMasters Beach on this morning's walk.

I walked about 10km this morning in misty, drizzly, and almost autumnal weather along some less-travelled roads and trails around nearby McMasters Beach.  Walking gives more time to look at your surroundings, and I've enjoyed a closer examination of the forests and properties that I often pass more cursorily on the run.  It's all relative, of course, with walking better than running, and running better than biking, if you want to absorb your environment.  All are better than driving.

The gravestone of Allan McMaster, the first European
settler in the area named after him.

Another advantage of walking, for me at least, is that it is the best time for thinking.  I'm a stroller rather than a power walker, and the gentle perambulation seems to stimulate my analytical brain cells.  As I walked this morning, experiencing no breathlessness or heart palpitations, I wondered about the chances that my heart problems were behind me.  If not, how would the return of the Atrial Flutter (AFl) be triggered?  By running too hard?  And if it was triggered, would it suddenly be as debilitating as it was before the Cardioversion, or would the onset be slower?  What were the chances of reversion, and what were the risk factors?  Wouldn't the cells through which my heart was passing the errant electrical pulses still be there, just a dormant pathway waiting to be reactivated by stress or some other trigger?

Umbrellas were optional on a drizzly morning walk.

There was lots to think about, inconclusively, and I returned home to do some more Googling.  Nothing I could find gave me more certainty, but there were clues.  One study in particular, of men a similar age to me, found that 55% had recurrent AFl within six months of their Cardioversions.  Underlying heart disease, previous episodes of AFl, and enlarged left atriums all seemed to be statistically significant factors in those who reverted.  I'm not conscious of previous AFl events, and my cardiologist found no evidence of heart disease, but he did find "mild Left Atrial dilatation".

Cockrone Lagoon on an autumnal morning.

Other studies have found enlarged left atrial size to be more common in long-term endurance athletes, than others of a similar demographic, and that this seemed to be associated with great incidence of Atrial Fibrillation (AF) and AFl.  So, it seems reasonable to assume I remain at significant risk of reversion.  The great unknown for me, though, is whether the enlarged left atrium was the key factor in the development of my AFl, or was it the Pulmonary Embolism (PE) placing undue pressure on the heart's function that was the trigger.  Although I'm probably stuck with the enlarged left atrium, the PE should be gone soon, if not already.  Does that mean there's a good chance I won't have the problem again?  Probably not, but only time will tell, although there will never be a point at which I can say there is no further risk.

Gender differences

The Trotters assembled in Yarramalong before running the
28km to Somersby.

In a perfect world, today's Terrigal Trotters trail run from Yarramalong to Somersby would have been my last hit out before the Six Foot Track 45km trail race in two weeks time, where I had given myself some chance of breaking the 60+ age group record.  Alas, it's not a perfect world, but I still enjoyed following my club-mates during their run.

I had time to walk into a few locations and take photos, so racked up a couple of kilometres on a very humid and occasionally showery day.  Some of the walking involved significant climbs and there was no recurrence of my heart arrhythmia, giving me more confidence that last Monday's DC Cardioversion is doing the job.  Running in the next Trotters' trail run in five weeks time, even if slowly, may even be a possibility.

The runners approach the top of
Bumble Hill.

About fifty runners turned out today, and for the first time in fifteen or so of these runs, a female was the first person home.  It wasn't a race as such, but most of the runners try hard, and Melissa not only finished first, but also looked the freshest.  She is an up and coming distance runner, and already one of Australia's best adventure racers.

Her club-mates were pleased, but maybe not surprised, to see her do so well, and the run got me thinking about the differences I have observed between the genders in the way they train and race.  I'm generalising - it's more shades of grey than sharp contrast - and I am not suggesting Melissa is an exemplar.

Melissa nears the finish in Somersby.

Firstly, men tend towards overconfidence, while women seem often to lack belief in their running ability.  It's not uncommon to see men enter events for which they are under-prepared, believing that everything will work out, and finding otherwise.  On the other hand, females tend to underestimate their capabilities, and this perspective leads to more methodical and cautious preparation and planning for their big events.  I don't think it's fear of failure, more that they want to give themselves every chance of success by preparing properly.

The same gender characteristics also show up in races.  Males frequently start too fast, with visions of glory, or through fear of being left behind, or both, while females tend to start more conservatively, mindful of the distance ahead, and seem better at maintaining a steady pace and sticking to their race plans.

These differences may account for at least part of the observed convergence between female and male performances in races as the distances get longer.

Derek Clayton

Derek Clayton, running with Japan's Seiichiro
Sasaki, in the 1967 Fukuoka Marathon which
he won in a world record time of 2:09.36.4.

Along with great Australian athletes such as Ron Clarke, Herb Elliott and John Landy who inspired me to start running and awed me with their achievements, was the perhaps lesser-known Derek Clayton.

I was still living in London, and running school cross-country races as a sixteen year-old when his name hit the sporting headlines as the first person to run under 2:10 for a marathon when he ran 2:09:36.4 in the 1967 Fukuoka Marathon in Japan.  This wasn't long after Ron Clarke had blazed a trail across the world with a series of phenomenal world records on the track (see post titled Ron Clarke) and it seemed to me that Australians must have some kind of genetic predisposition to long distance running.

Two years later, when I was at university in Melbourne, his home town, and getting more obsessed with running, Derek Clayton again broke the world record.  This time it was in Antwerp, and his time of 2:08:33.6, stood as the world's best time for twelve years, until bettered by Rob De Castella.  By this time I was regularly competing in the Victorian Amateur Athletics Association (VAAA) winter and summer events and would have competed in a number of events against Clayton, though I don't specifically remember ever meeting him.  I do have a vague recollection of passing him and Ron Clarke, speeding in the opposite direction, when I was out on a training run in Melbourne's eastern suburbs one time in those years, and it may have been more than once.

Derek Clayton leads in the 1969 Maxol (Manchester)
Marathon which was won by Ron Hill in 2:13.

For a while, Clayton seemed to run and win every significant distance race in Australia, including the Australian Marathon titles in 1967, 1968, 1971 and 1973.  He was a prolific racer and known as a hard man and focussed runner.  On one occasion, I think in September 1973, Clayton won the VAAA 25km Road Championships on a multi-lap course around the 6km Sandown road racing circuit.  I was 22nd in 89:26 in the same race, but never saw Clayton after the start.  It may be an apocryphal story, but apparently with about a lap to go, Clayton was in the lead but desperately needed a toilet break.  Stopping was not an option, and he finished with some ugly looking stains on the back of his shorts and down his legs, still in the lead.  Not surprisingly, the club-mate in whose car he had travelled to the event, refused to let him into the car for the home journey until he had been hosed down.

Even though I wasn't remotely in Clayton's class, running in the same races as the world's best marathoner early in my career, and seeing first-hand how dedicated and disciplined you needed to be to succeed, made a big impression on me.

I had a comfortable 6km walk this morning at Trotters and wasn't quite as conscious of how my heart was beating.  As each day passes, I get a little more confident that I will soon be running again.

Marine encounters

Hatteras Island, North Carolina.

Yesterday, as I finished my walk along the Copa beach, I was lucky enough to see a pod of dolphins just beyond the breaking waves.  It's always a thrill to encounter wild animals when out running, and I have written about some of those rare encounters in other posts (Katahdin, More animal encounters, Yellowstone).  Meetings with sea life tend to be even more rare, and yesterday's sighting got me thinking about other such occasions.

Probably the most exciting encounter was thirty years ago when we were touring the U.S. and camped on Hatteras Island, a very long and extremely narrow barrier island off the coast of North Carolina.  Two islands just to the north were Nag's Head, famous for the historic Kill Devil Hills where the Wright Brothers took the first powered flight, and Roanoke, where one of the earliest groups of English colonists in America, comprising 150 people, disappeared without trace some time between ship visits in 1587 and 1590.  Despite the local history, the running options on Hatteras were very limited - either a run along the boring road that traversed the length of the island or along the sandy beach.

Hatteras Island beach.

I chose the latter, and having run a 25 miler the day before, was just cruising southwards along the empty and monotonous beach, when I got the feeling I wasn't alone.  Looking into the small surf to my left, there was a pod of fifteen to twenty dolphins, little more than 20 metres from the water's edge, travelling south at exactly the same speed as me.  I have to believe they knew I was there, because for the next half mile, they maintained their relative position as we eyed each other off.  They then peeled off into deeper water and I was on my own again.  I had another "marine" encounter a mile or two further on, with a very large and very dead hammerhead shark on the water's edge, but that doesn't really count as wildlife.

A whale passes South Point on Wilsons Promontory.

Although not a running encounter, another meeting that lives large in my memory was at the start of a mountain bike ride from the southernmost point of mainland Australia, South Point on Wilsons Promontory, to the northernmost, Cape York, in 2006.  It wasn't possible to ride my bike all the way to South Point for the start because of National Park regulations and difficult trail, so I set out early one morning from the settlement at Tidal River to hike the 42 kilometre round trip.  At the isolated South Point, large and slippery boulders washed by occasionally large swells made it quite difficult to clamber down to the water's edge to fill a small jar of water I was planning to carry for the 4300km journey north and empty into the sea at Cape York.  At one point I wondered whether my journey was going to end where it started, with my body never found, but eventually accomplished the task.  As I climbed back up to a point of relative safety, I heard an incongruous noise just to my right, and there, moving very slowly through the water about 20 metres offshore, and occasionally spouting, was a large black whale.  It was close enough for me to see its eye and it seemed to be looking right at me.  I took the sighting as a good omen, and as it turned out, had a great trip.

I walked 6km today, including some hills, without any difficulty or breathlessness.  However, I am constantly conscious of my heart beating, and although my pulse seems regular, can't escape the feeling that something is not quite right.  I woke in the small hours and couldn't go back to sleep, just lying there hyper-sensitive to my heart beat, trying to work out whether it was functioning properly, and looking for signs that it was not.  It may be, and I hope it is, just some post-procedure anxiety.  If that's right, then my sensitivity will diminish in the next couple of weeks and my confidence will grow, but at the moment I still feel like I am walking on eggshells.