Why running?

Richmond Park, London

Running has dominated my life, as readers of this blog and people who know me, will attest.  It is a passion, and maybe an obsession and addiction.  I believe people need to have a passion or passions to get the most out of life, but those passions vary widely.  It's hard to know how much is determined by nature versus nurture, or maybe just accident.  I think nature and nurture both play a role in the kind people we are and the things that appeal to and captivate us, but that much of our lives is determined by accidents or coincidences.  We encounter people, opportunities and things, often unexpectedly, that change our lives.

Schoolboys Cross-Country Race in Richmond Park (1967)

I have pondered what set me on the road to being a passionate (some might say obsessed) runner.  If I had to pick one thing, I would say 'size' - absolute and relative.  As a child, I enjoyed team sports, and was reasonably good at them, but I was a late developer and by my mid-teens didn't have the physical mass to hold my own in rugby, nor the height to be a good fast bowler in cricket.  Though still in the school teams for each, it was becoming apparent to me that I wasn't going to keep my place in senior teams.  Relative size was also important, because about this time my (20-month) younger brother caught me in height and not only started beating me at tennis, but was also an excellent rugby and cricket player.  I was losing the battle in the sibling rivalry stakes, and as many siblings do, I looked for something else where I might distinguish myself.

Tiffin Boys Grammar School

I was attending Tiffin Boys Grammar School in the London suburb of Kingston-on-Thames at the time (my father had been posted to London for three years with his job) and cross-country running was a school sport.  It was mostly inhabited by those not interested in team sports, and it was noticeable that when the annual school cross-country race came around, it was always someone from one of the rugby teams who won, not a member of the cross-country team.  It was a 'poor relation' sport, but that made it easier to excel and I had a number of friends on the team.  I even won a race once against another school's team, but was certainly not outstanding.  Many of our school races were in the nearby Richmond Park, a seemingly vast expanse of grassland, hills, small woods and many trails, and I came to love the place.

Running on the Tiffin Boys
Grammar School playing
field in 1967

As an incentive to train, there was a club within the school called the All Weather Running Club, looked after by my Chemistry teacher.  The goal of club members was to run from the school to the gates of Richmond Park and back, every Tuesday and Thursday night after school during the autumn and winter terms, regardless of the weather.  It was only a two-mile roundtrip, but for fifteen and sixteen year olds to do it voluntarily through frequently foul weather and in winter darkness, without missing a scheduled night, was significant and a source of pride.  I began to think of myself as a tough and accomplished runner, despite a lack of competitive success.

Around this time, at my initiative, a friend from the team and I rode our bikes up to the gates of Richmond Park one Saturday and then ran non-stop right around the perimeter paths of the Park, about 12 kilometres.  This seemed an incredible distance to us, our families and our friends, and gave me the kind of recognition and self-esteem I craved as an under-sized teenager.  Soon afterwards, I returned to Australia and continued my running career at Melbourne High School and Monash University where more encounters and coincidences further grew my passion for running.

My right knee was very sore overnight, and the right Achilles was stiff and sore this morning, but I expected that after yesterday's long run on fire-trails.  I haven't had a day off for a while so was happy just to walk gently for 5km this morning around the local streets.  The Achilles hurt a little while walking, but not enough for me to think running tomorrow will be a problem.  I feel a sense of optimism after yesterday's run that I'm on my way back.  It's hard to explain what has changed, and I have to be careful not to get too enthused.  My doctor has told me in the past that I have borderline low white and red blood cell counts, and it almost feels like the oxygen carrying capacity of my blood has suddenly improved in the past week.  No drugs are involved, so I have to assume that I've been ailing with something that has now passed.  Of course, this diagnosis is not based on anything other than a gut feeling, and may be wildly off the mark.  The next few weeks will tell.

Who's up and who's down

Down - walking dejectedly away from the
finish of the 1982 Montreal Marathon
(46th, 2:29, "possibly my worst
performance ever") where I struggled
with an Achilles problem and the effects
of anti-inflammatories

I didn't get time to warm up much this morning for the Terrigal Trotters Flat (mis-named) 10km Time Trial, so started slowly and nursed my sore Achilles and knee through the early kilometres.  Consistent with the feeling I've had this week that I have somehow "bottomed out" in my running, I felt I was moving better and running more strongly than for the past month or so.  Nevertheless, I lack race fitness and stamina, flagged on the hills and found the last half hard.  My time of 44:52 was about what I had expected, though I had feared it might be worse as I slowed during the second half.
The monthly Time Trial is always a good bench-marking event, though you can't get too excited about who you beat and who beats you.  This is because nobody is at their peak or nadir all of the time.  There were runners in front of me this morning who I might have hoped to beat if fit.  At other times, when I was running well, they would have had the same thoughts about me.  Running and fitness is cyclical, maybe because of illness or injury, or maybe because of work or family commitments.  For some runners, staleness becomes an issue, training and racing become chores, and they seem to lose their "mojo" for a period of time.

Down - dealing with a serious lower
back injury in the early 1980s that
 cost a lot of running time

At a race like today's it is possible to identify people at all stages of the cycle.  You feel pleased for those on the upswing or at their peak, and sad for those whose performances are sub-par for some reason.  Within Trotters, it's great to see some people running very well at the moment who have struggled for the past year or longer.  They are loving that sense of capability and potential that comes with race fitness and are relishing the opportunity to compete in events denied to them in the last couple of years.  I feel very happy for them, but also want to tell them not to overdo it and to savour this period when everything is going well.

Up - running well and centre picture in the first
Melbourne Marathon in 1978 (2nd, 2:23)

Then there are others struggling to keep running with injuries or illness, or maybe just resigned to walking until they feel better.  At this stage it's easy for them to feel depressed and dispirited.  Every runner knows (and most non-runners don't) the frustration that accompanies the inability to run regularly for whatever reason.  Continuing to associate, socially, with those who are running regularly can make the pain even more exquisite, though those same people are also best equipped to empathise.  I feel sad for those who are struggling, but also want to tell them that their time at the top of the cycle will come again if they have patience, that they should use their downtime wisely, and that, believe it or not, there are more important things in life than running.

Sleep

Late night dinner in the western Queensland town of
Cloncurry while trying to break the round Australia
record in 2007

The problem with Thursdays is, that after getting up early to supervise the 6:00am Terrigal Trotters track session at The Haven, I eat late and get to bed late after supervising the 6:00pm track session at Adcock Park in Gosford.  (I'm not complaining about the track sessions.  I find them rewarding and it's a way for me to pay back with a bit of volunteering after a working career during which my volunteering was minimal.)

As I get older, it seems I like my sleep more.  If golf is scheduled for early Friday morning, as it often is, I get very tired and start to dread the early starts that follow on Saturday and Sunday.

Crossing the Atherton Tableland in the Northern Territory
during the 2008 attempt to break the round Australia record

I'm sure that all serious runners think about the amount of sleep they get and regret that they don't get more.  Earlier in my running career, I envied the full-time athletes who had nothing to do all day but train and sleep and figured this could be a key factor in their success.  I also used to get stressed if I could not get a good night's sleep before a big race.

However, as I have aged, my views on sleep have become more relaxed.  I now don't worry if I get insufficient sleep the night before a big race.  Instead, I try and get a few good nights' sleep in the week before and just take what I can get the night before.  Often you are sleeping in a strange place or maybe sharing accommodation and subject to the night routine of others.  Despite a lack of sleep, I have found the adrenalin, excitement and atmosphere of race day is enough to get you up mentally for the race.  The last thing you need to be worrying about is a sleepless night.  Once the race starts, you tend to forget all about it.

Taking a break in the Northern Territory during the 2009
attempt to break the round Australia record

The other thing I have learned is that I can survive on a lot less sleep than I would like.  During my working career, I averaged a little over six hours per night, but functioned fine so long as I was doing something.  If I sat still in a presentation or lecture, or on a plane, I was prone to go to sleep, but if I kept working I was fine.  The real sleep test for me came during my three failed attempts to break the record for riding a bike solo and unsupported around Australia.  I soon learned that success was as much a function of being able to operate on little sleep as it was on cycling prowess.  Almost all nights were limited to four to five hours sleep, with 1:00am starts, 300 kilometre days, and occasional brief cat-naps during the day if I became too tired to continue.  I was amazed at what my body could do if tested, though if you consider the privations of, say, soldiers in the trenches during the First World War, my efforts were modest.

The lesson for me about sleep is that you should get as much as you can, but not sweat it if you run short.  So long as you are motivated, you can keep going on minimal sleep.

Not wanting to leave today's run until after the morning golf game, I got myself up at 4:30am and squeezed in a slow 5km around Copa in the early morning half light.  My right Achilles was quite painful and my pace was slow, but I do feel I'm moving more freely.  It's the monthly Terrigal Trotters 10km Time Trial tomorrow, and I would like to run a reasonable time, but am trying to avoid any expectations.  I feel that my overall fitness is at about 75% of where I would like to be, and this is unlikely to translate into a good 10km time.

Outclassed

Peter Norman finishing second in the 200m Final
in the 1968 Mexico Olympics

Amongst the early highlights of my running career were the occasional encounters with world class athletes.  In a previous post, Brushes with fame, I wrote about crossing paths with New Zealand greats, John Walker and Rod Dixon.  Much earlier, in April 1970, at the age of 19, I had the thrill of racing against an Olympic Silver Medallist.

It came about at one of the country athletics meetings to which my club-mates and I used to travel in my early running career.  Most of us were still living at home and these meetings, in Victorian country towns such as Horsham, Stawell, Halls Gap, Strathmerton, Myrtleford and Omeo, provided a great reason for us to get away for a weekend.  The usual routine involved driving up late on the Friday night, often after a volleyball game, camping at or near the track, racing on the Saturday afternoon, adjourning to the local pub on Saturday night in the hope of meeting some girls (rarely successful), and a longish run on the Sunday morning before driving home.  Apart from the attraction of a weekend away with our mates, the track meetings were an opportunity to be big fish in a little pond.

A track meeting at Stawell, Victoria, in the early 1970s

They were usually part of an annual town festival, with the track marked out on the local football ground and other events, such as highland dancing competitions and wood-chopping, going on around the perimeter.  We always fancied our chances of coming away with some trophies, but there always seemed to be a local dark horse who showed us our place.  I can't remember why, maybe because of some family connection to the area, but the big attraction for this particular weekend at the Wimmera Athletic Club meeting in Horsham (300km north-west of Melbourne) was to be Peter Norman, who had finished second in the 200m final at the Mexico Olympics just two years earlier.

A track meeting at Myrtleford, Victoria, in the early 1970s

Early in the afternoon, I had competed in my primary event, the 880 yards, without distinction, finishing unplaced in 2:06.  After the 880, I discovered that there were still some places available in the 220 yards, an hour or two later.  I suspect that was because only a limited number of local sprinters were willing to be embarrassed by Peter Norman, but this didn't bother me as a brash 19 year old with no sprinting ability.  I booked my place in the race and don't recall where I finished (almost certainly last), but my time of 25.7 would have put me about half-way down the straight when Norman crossed the line.  The only thing I really do remember about the race was that Peter Norman was a chatty down-to-earth guy without a hint of arrogance or pretentiousness.  His speed was awesome.

I walked for about 5km this morning, and found that so long as I concentrated on keeping my right foot aligned with the direction of travel, i.e., not splayed to the side, as is my habit, the pain in my injured right knee was not so bad.  I sense that I may be able to resume limited running tomorrow as long as I keep that right foot pointing forward.  Time will tell.

Best laid plans

I had hoped to be running this trail in the
Australian Alps early next week (photo taken
 on my hike through the Alps in 2011)

Injured again!  Yesterday I was starting to believe that I had resolved my right Achilles problem with the new heel raises, and that I was getting over my bronchial problems.  I was looking forward to a few days down at Thredbo in the Australian Alps early next week, where I planned to run some favourite alpine trails while Sharon and Jack did some skiing on the last of the season's snow.  With just a month to go until the Melbourne Marathon, and less to the shorter Australian Masters Games events prior to the marathon, there seemed to be some chance I could perform respectably, at least.

Some more of my planned running scenery for next week

Now I don't think it will happen.  I started Terrigal Trotters 10.5km North Avoca Lake Run quite conservatively this morning, having warmed up for a few kilometres.  Although I found the whole run hard, particularly the hills, I gradually worked my way through the field.  I never caught the front-runners, and still lack freshness and zest, but at least I ran a lot better than last week.

I wasn't conscious of any particular problems during the run, though my chronic right knee and Achilles injuries were about as worrisome as usual.  The new problem became evident after the run, when a dull pain emerged behind my right knee and proceeded to get worse and worse during the day.  If I sit down for any length of time, the pain is significant as soon as I try straighten the knee and begin walking again.  I have a feeling that it is related to the Baker's Cyst, a fluid sac behind the knee, that can become swollen if the knee is unstable.  It's an injury I have had in the past and the swelling can take a long time to subside (friends have had the fluid in the sac removed via a syringe, but often the problem quickly recurs if the knee is still unstable).



Diagram of the knee showing the location of the
Baker's Cyst, which I believe to be my latest injury

Anyway, given that I am not in peak form nor believe I'm destined to run well in Melbourne, it's easier to be smart and see if the knee settles down rather than plough on with the planned training for this week.  Today was the first time I have run faster in the new heel raises, and my guess is that this slight change in the angles of the lower leg and foot biomechanics has increased the pressure on the knee and affected its stability.  I've only been wearing the heel raises for four days, and my muscles and ligaments have probably not had sufficient time to adapt to the change in the biomechanics, especially if I'm running faster and putting more pressure on all joints.  There's an outside chance that the pain will subside overnight, and I'll be able to run tomorrow, but already in my head I've written off the next month, including the planned races.

Exotic podiums

Finishing the Quebec City 10km Fun Run (5th, 33:50)
while touring Canada in 1985

It was actually drizzling with rain when I jogged a slow 5km round Copa this morning.  It seemed exotic after our long warm dry spell, and may herald a return to more seasonal spring weather, though it stopped shortly after my run.  Although only over a short distance, I was moving more freely this morning, and my right Achilles and arch weren't too painful.  My time was a minute or two slower than I expect to jog round this course when I'm in good shape, so I'm not getting my hopes up.  Tomorrow morning's run with Terrigal Trotters will be more useful in gauging my fitness.

A steady run through the field yielded
a win in the 40+ age group, and 2nd
overall in a trail Half Marathon
while working in Germany

A runner I know has just left for the UK on vacation, and another I know will be visiting there at Christmas.  I was pleased to hear that both are looking to find some races to run while they are away because I know they will savour the experience.  Running some local races adds an extra dimension to any trip.

If you have hopes of a podium finish - open or age-group - there is a frisson of excitement in being the unknown quantity or dark horse in the field, especially in small local races where everybody knows the fast runners.  I have been in races where the fast early starters drop rapidly away and you find yourself in front, others where the pace seems slow and you can't believe how easy it is to get away, and others which became duels to the finish.  I have also been left in the dust by clearly superior athletes.

With the winner of the 60+ age group (I was 2nd) in the
2012 Orange County 10km Santa Run in the US

Depending on the location, the scenery, terrain, smells and culture can feel exotic and stimulating while sometimes the weather can be an experience in itself.  Races draw you to locations and communities that you might not otherwise visit.  Your horizons are broadened, you meet new people and you see different ways of doing things.

I have always sought out races in places I have visited while touring or working over the years and often tweak my schedule to fit them in.  Almost all have been cherished and remembered experiences.  Even now, when I travel on vacation (unless it is a hiking or biking trip) I scan the web calendars and try to work as many runs into the itinerary as possible, always with an eye on those age group podiums.  It doesn't always happen, but when it does you can score nice little trophies to accompany those eye-catching race T-shirts.

Acclimatisation

Jack Foster winning the
1975 Honolulu Marathon

It was unseasonably warm overnight, with the temperature staying above 20°C.  Blustery northerly winds had raised the temperature to near 30°C by the time I headed out for an easy 10km at mid-morning.  Although the heat made the run harder work, I welcomed it.  I have a theory that you need to run in hot weather for about a week before your body adapts to make the running easier.  So the early days of heat in any summer will initially be hard work.  It's very hard to go from cold weather to warm weather and run well straight away.  A period of acclimatisation is needed.  This morning's run should have started that process for the coming summer.

The heat reminded me of a story I had been told about Jack Foster, a great New Zealand marathon runner, famous for the world record times he ran in his 40s (2:11:18) and 50s (2:20:28).  He only started running at the age of 32.  In early 1978, Jack was keen to get a place on the New Zealand team for the Commonwealth Games to be held in Edmonton, Canada, in August of that year.  For whatever reason, maybe injury, Jack hadn't run a qualifying time and was desperately looking for a certified marathon somewhere in Australasia to record a good time.  The only marathon he could find was in April in Whyalla, a remote steel town in South Australia, so he wrote to them and they invited him to run as their guest.  It was a new marathon and they were keen to get the publicity.  I heard this story the next year, when I was fortunate enough to be invited by the organisers to be their guest runner.

At least I managed to get on the same poster
as Jack Foster

Anyway, Jack needed to run a time of something like 2:16 to qualify and was optimistic that the flat Whyalla course would give him every chance.  Unfortunately for Jack, Whyalla can get hot, even in autumn, and during the race the temperature rose to 34°C.  The organisers had a huge barrel of water at about the 20 mile mark which they were intending to use as a source of water to douse passing runners.  By 20 miles, Jack's hopes of a qualifying time had evaporated in the heat, and the organisers told me that Jack actually jumped in the barrel of water to cool off before continuing to the finish in 2:26:52.  A year later, without the heat, I won in 2:27:43, so I have an appreciation for Jack's talents.  Sadly he was killed in a collision with a car while out training on his bike at the age of 72.

My right Achilles tendon was still quite sore when I set out for today's run, and I did wonder whether I was wise running at all.  But this injury has been with me for some years, and comes and goes in intensity, so I'm hoping careful management will help it settle down.  Part of that careful management is not forcing it, so I wasn't able to stretch out.  My running style felt awkward, which it was, and I'm sure I looked like an old man going out for a jog, which I was.  I hoped it might loosen up on the one kilometre climb out of Copa, but if it did, it was only a little.  I felt less fatigued than expected, given the 25km trail race on Sunday, but it got harder in the last kilometres as the hills and heat took their toll.

My time for my regular 10km loop was slow, 58 minutes, but that was of no consequence today.  The weather conditions were bad for anybody with breathing issues and the run was accompanied by lots of coughing and spluttering.  The mailman brought the new Sorbothane heel raises I had ordered today, so I'm hoping that will give my Achilles tendon some relief, and a visit to the doctor later resulted in a reversion to the former asthma medication which my body seemed to handle better.  I may risk a longer run tomorrow.

Woodford to Glenbrook

The Terrigal Trotters team ready for the Woodford to
Glenbrook 25km trail race
(Courtesy Judy Murray)

It was with some trepidation that I joined the Terrigal Trotters bus down to run the Woodford to Glenbrook 25km trail race in the Blue Mountains west of Sydney.  My right Achilles hurt, even just walking around this morning, and the poor run I had yesterday cast further doubt over my ability to perform well.

At least it was cool and overcast in Woodford, and we were there in sufficient time for me to jog a gentle 3km warm-up, including a couple of stride-throughs over 50 metres.  The Achilles gradually warmed up, but was still restricting my stride.  This injury is starting to get serious, and I fear, may lead to an extended period off running.  Anyway, for today, I decided to stick to my plan of starting slowly, and hopefully, getting faster once loosened up.

Post race presentations
(Courtesy Judy Murray)

The first few kilometres incorporated several short hills and I was quickly well back in the field, but thereafter I gradually started to make up ground and continued to do so for the balance of the race.  There were plenty of steep loose rock and gravel fire-trail descents in the first half of the race, and I backed my sure-footedness and passed plenty of people.  I wasn't trying to run fast, but instead just tried to make use of gravity, avoid braking, and maintain momentum.  In days gone by, I used to pride myself on how fast I could descend technical track.  You can get into a zone where the decision about where to plant your foot at the end of each stride is not made until you are in the air.  The adrenalin pumps and split-second decisions are important.  It's exciting, and I felt a little bit of that excitement at times today on the descents.

Mistakenly receiving the trophy for the first Over 60.  I had to
hand it back 10 seconds later to someone who had beaten me
by 30 seconds  (Courtesy Judy Murray)

The last 10km of the race is mostly flat or slightly downhill on broad fire-trail, and although I was tired and well-back in the field, I successfully maintained good form and momentum and made up a number of places.  My finishing time of 2:01 was well-below what I would have hoped to run if fit, but I was pleased with the way I maintained my effort for the whole race, and had feared I might do much worse.

On the downside, my right Achilles heel has become extremely inflexible and painful since the race, and I'm having difficulty walking.  I don't plan to run tomorrow, and will just hope, that as the inflammation wanes, I get some flexibility back and can run on Tuesday.  If not, I think it will be off to the doctor for an MRI.

Training through races

Terrigal Trotters getting ready to head for the Avoca Steps

Tomorrow is the Woodford to Glenbrook 25km trail race in the Blue Mountains, west of Sydney, and I'm travelling down with a busload of Terrigal Trotter clubmates.  The event was originally scheduled for late June, but was postponed because heavy rain had led to the National Park, through which the event runs, being closed.  I'm not in shape to take the race seriously, but not having run it before, I decided to keep my place in the bus and in the event.

Rounding Avoca Lagoon

That meant a decision had to be made about whether I should do all of this morning's 13.5km Avoca Steps run with Trotters, or have an easy day and rest up for tomorrow.  In days gone by, when I was training for a big event some months in the future, I rarely let myself ease up for an interim race unless it happened to coincide with a scheduled easier week's training.  Over time, experience showed me that whether I eased up or not, didn't seem to affect the quality of performances.  If you eased up, you felt physically and mentally fresher, but by the middle of the race it seldom made much difference.  I'm not saying you should train hard the day before.  In any training schedule, even when there is a heavy load, there should be easier/recovery days between the quality days.  I would just schedule that easier day before the day of the race.

Near the top of the Avoca Steps

After mulling over my options, I decided that shortening today's run so I felt better for tomorrow's run was not consistent with my need to maintain some training intensity.  Instead, I decided to run the full distance, but take it easy and avoid getting competitive.  To deal with the bronchial trouble, I took two puffs of Ventolin about half an hour before the run.  Maybe this was the reason that climbing the first steep hill out of Terrigal, my heart felt like it was racing and I struggled to get any rhythm.  I plodded up the hill, hoping things would get better, but they never did.  Although my heart rate settled down, my legs felt leaden, perhaps the result of standing around at an art exhibition for three hours last night, or maybe connected to the earlier Ventolin-induced exertions.

The Avoca Steps were very hard work, as was the last hill up Tramway, and I finished the run near the back of the field, very tired and somewhat demoralised.  My painful right Achilles had restricted my stride, and my right arch was still a little sore, so they may also have been factors.  I just have to remember that, although not stellar by any means, I ran better on Wednesday and last Saturday, so this morning's run should not be seen as representative of my current fitness.

I'll give the Ventolin a miss for tomorrow's run, start slowly, and hope I can redeem myself a bit.

Waiting for momentum

Part of the Terrigal Trotters track group going through
their early morning paces at Terrigal Haven

This is my 100th post in this blog, and I'm sure all readers are tired of hearing about my injuries and illnesses day after day.  Yet, this is the life of a runner, and I wanted this blog to be a true record of how I was feeling about my running and my journey towards a goal.  When I started, I optimistically thought it would be a tale of ever-increasing fitness, hopefully taken to a new level, on the way to a sub-3:00 hour Melbourne Marathon on 13 October of this year.  It has actually turned out to be a record of the setbacks, disappointments and frustrations that have been the more common theme of my running career, and many running careers.

With only five weeks to Melbourne, the best I can hope for is to run faster than I did at the Macleay River Marathon back in June (3:24), but I'm trying not to get too hung up on what is an acceptable time.  Instead, I will treat it as a long training run, and to that end, have entered some Australian Masters Games events (5,000m track and 8km cross-country) in Geelong during the week before.  It's a way of telling myself that what I run in the marathon is not that important.

To get serious about running a good marathon I need a few months where I have training and psychological momentum.  This isn't something that can be turned on with a switch.  My strategy will be to keep plugging away at around 100km per week, injuries permitting, and wait for a feeling of well-being to return.  With that, will come motivation and serious planning for the next marathon, probably in Hobart in January.

It was yet another beautiful morning on the NSW Central Coast, and I enjoyed watching the track group run their 300m repetitions on the grass at The Haven before setting out on my own regular 16.5km run.  My right Achilles was quite stiff and sore after last night's run.  It feels like it has set in concrete and doesn't have the flexibility to let me run properly.  In my early days, I would have forced it to loosen up, ignoring the pain and consequences, but these days, I try and modify my gait to avoid undue pressure and lessen the pain.  This means a shortened stride length and this morning's early kilometres, up the steep hills of the Scenic Highway, were run at little more than a shuffle.  I must have looked pathetic.....and old.  At the top of the hill, a girl joined my route from a side street just in front of me.  She seemed to be running very slowly, but I wasn't catching her.  This didn't help my mood.

As the Achilles gradually became more loose, my speed and form improved and I slowly passed the girl.  Although very tired from last night's running, my legs did feel a little stronger as I went further, and I felt lighter on my feet, almost enjoying the flats and downhills.  This lightness evaporated in the last few kilometres and I was exhausted when I finished.  Pathetic, really, for just a slow 16.5km run.  However, a week ago at the same time I could only manage a 6km run so I guess that's progress (from a low base).

Continuing frustration

This nasty little hill in each Six at Six lap is tougher
than it looks

I headed into Gosford in the late afternoon for an easy 10km warm-up before the weekly Six at Six race.  Maybe it's the very early and warm Spring we're having, but for whatever reason, my sinuses were blocked all day and the warm-up 10km was marked by much coughing and expectorating, despite taking a couple of puffs from my Ventolin inhaler prior to running.  I do have allergies and they seem to be compounding my current breathing difficulties when running.

The long back straight along the Gosford waterfront
in each Six at Six lap

Anyway, I felt better than before last week's Six at Six, but was careful not to go off too fast when the 6km race started.  My pace was quite consistent, around 5:15 for each 1.2km lap, but I was really gasping for air in the last two laps and coughing lots.  As usual, the small concave hill in each lap really destroyed my rhythm, and if running with oxygen debt helps, then tonight was good training.  My time was about 30 seconds slower than two weeks ago, so was a little disappointing.  It just seems hard to believe that I can get fit enough to run minutes faster, yet that's what I must do.

It's also frustrating that I cannot keep up with friends over 6km, who I would normally be competitive with over 10km.  Of course, they may be running well, but most of my recent comebacks saw me more competitive more quickly.  On the positive side, my right Achilles and arch injuries weren't too bad tonight, although tomorrow morning's run will be the true test.

Racing injured

Two Peoples Bay, near where I stayed when I ran the
Albany Marathon in 1981

My right Achilles tendon and arch were both quite sore this morning, but that was to be expected after a long run, so I wasn't too worried.  In late morning I headed out in the warmth and sunshine for a 5km walk round Copa, taking care not to force the stiff and sore Achilles.  I felt quite flat after the rigours of yesterday's run and a late night (Terrigal Trotters Annual General Meeting).  My chest was still congested and I was glad a run wasn't scheduled for today.

I still intend to run the regular Six at Six tomorrow night and the 25km Woodford to Glenbrook trail race on Sunday, but it's hard to believe I'm going to run well in either.  I'm in the "stick to the plan and it will all work out" mode, which has generally served me well in the past, but not always.

Near the half-way point of the Albany Marathon course

Running injured is never much fun.  Non-runners often do not appreciate how frequently injuries afflict runners or how hard it can be to produce your best.  Back in 1981, I received an invitation to run in the Albany Marathon in Western Australia, with all expenses paid.  It was shortly after running second in the 1981 Big M Melbourne Marathon in 2:19:29, and I'm sure the organisers thought I would back up a month later with another sub-2:20, and a new course record in Albany.  Unknown to them, I had been carrying a serious Achilles tendon injury for some time and was already booked in for surgery four days after their race.  However, with the help of anti-inflammatories, I was still running, and was reluctant to pass up the chance of a free trip to the West.  I told them I couldn't guarantee anything faster than about 2:25 in a small race on an unknown course, and neglected to mention the upcoming surgery.

They organized the tickets and I travelled to Albany two days before the race, staying in a lovely guest house on a bay to the east of town.  My Achilles was very sore and I hadn't run further than 16km in three weeks.  Then, to my consternation, I developed a blister on a short training run, and through changing my gait, ended up with a painful locked muscle on the outside of my left shin.  I was having trouble walking, let alone running, but didn't feel I could, or should, say anything about my problems to the organisers.  I just hoped that I could win the event with a minimum of fuss, even if my time was slower than predicted.

My Race Certificate for the Albany Marathon

The day of the race was cool, overcast and blustery, and I was taken aback to find Dave Eltringham, a well-performed marathoner I knew from Melbourne, in the line-up.  He was a native of nearby Esperance and was home on vacation and to run the marathon.  I was starting to feel a lot of pressure.  When the gun fired, I quickly went to the lead at a solid clip, hoping any contenders (i.e., Dave) would give up early.  I was soon on my own, and after about 10km, relaxed the pace a little.  My Achilles hurt, my locked muscle was painful, I was having trouble running smoothly, and I just wanted it to all be over.

I reached the half-way point in exactly 1:12:30, and glanced over my shoulder, hoping nobody would be in sight.  Dave was a good runner, but with a best of just under 2:30, I hoped he would not be in contention at that pace in a minor marathon.  Alarmingly, he was less than 100 metres behind, obviously having a great run, and with me squarely in his sights.  I was not going to be able to coast the last half and tried to lift my tempo a little.  It was very hard work, made harder by some violent cold rain squalls and fierce winds in the last 10km.  The finish finally came into sight and I collapsed across the line in exactly 2:25:05, drenched, absolutely exhausted and in a lot of pain from my injuries.  Dave followed a minute or so later in a new Personal Best time.

The organizer commented that my time matched my pre-trip prediction almost exactly and that my two halves were perfectly even.  I could tell he thought it was just a "milk run" for me, where I had taken it as easily as I could whilst meeting my commitment.  In reality, it was one of the hardest races I ever ran, and one of those of which I am most proud.

Pulling out

Extract from the Boston Globe on 20 April 1982 after
Salazar had won the Boston Marathon by 2 seconds from
Dick Beardsley in 2:08:51 (I was 49th in 2:22:39)

Tonight's Six at Six run didn't go so well.  Maybe it was the effects of my cold, or maybe it was that I ate lunch too late, but for whatever reason I was struggling to get the air I needed after just one lap (1.2km) of the 6km race, and briefly stopped before backing off and running the remaining four laps at a comfortable pace.

I had followed my plan of getting there an hour early and running 10km as a warm-up, but even in that warm-up, I didn't feel I was travelling well.  Plenty of coughing, hawking and spluttering to go with indigestion, so maybe I would have been wiser not starting.  However, as discussed in yesterday's post, I'm reluctant to back off from my planned training unless for a good reason.

Salazar in flight

As I drove home from the race, I examined my motives for pulling out.  Although I don't often pull out of races, I have pulled out of a number over the years, particularly in my early running career.  Whenever I do, it always awakens some deep-seated self-doubt about my toughness in the face of adversity.  I can always rationalise a decision to pull out at the time, but almost always regret it later.  There are some runners, such as one of my marathon heroes, Alberto Salazar, who have run themselves to the point of insensibility or collapse in races.  I have never run myself that hard, and it makes me wonder whether I have fully explored my physical potential as an athlete.

For today, however, I know I do have a cold, and that it is affecting how I feel when running.  I will trust that when it abates, I will feel and run better.  On the plus side, I barely felt my injured right arch tonight.

Charles Kay Hill

The start of a Terrigal Trotters 10km Time Trial

Terrigal Trotters has a 10km Time Trial at the end of every month and alternates between a "flat" and "hilly" course.  "Flat" is a bit of a misnomer, as there are some hills, but it's certainly flat relative to the "hilly" course.  The latter has some significant early hills, but the grand-daddy of them all, Charles Kay Hill, comes soon after the 7km mark and climbs 75m over one kilometre.  That doesn't sound too bad, but after 7km of hard running, including the early hills, it's almost impossible to maintain any sort of momentum.  A helter-skelter descent, testing arthritic knees, bad backs and shoe grip, with a little over one kilometre to go, hardly makes up for the grind of the preceding ascent.
 
The Charles Kay Hill 10km Time Trial was scheduled for this morning at 6:00am, so I got to Terrigal at 5:20am and made sure I was well warmed-up, with an easy 4km through the darkened streets of Wamberal beforehand.  Running a race against your friends once a month makes for some longstanding rivalries.  I think all Trotters who regularly run the Time Trials have a pretty good idea of who they want to beat, and who wants to beat them.  Results are scanned and mental notes made.

Part of the dreaded Charles Kay hill

Based on my inadequate recent training background, and my mediocre City to Surf Fun Run and Six at Six performances, I had no expectation of running a good time this morning.  I still need another couple of weeks of solid training to get back within range of my best recent 10km times.  I did, however, expect to see signs of continuing improvement.

The longer warm-up certainly made me feel better for the first kilometre or two, and although I didn't feel I was running fast, I wasn't that far behind several of my old rivals.  I didn't expect to catch them, and was wary of forcing the pace, having done little fast running of late.  I resolved to settle into a pace that would get me comfortably to half-way and then see how I was going.  Perhaps the worst part of this particular course is the "foothills" that are encountered in the middle stages.  They cost you momentum, and it's hard not to think about the looming Charles Kay Hill.

Trotters socialise after a 10km Time Trial from a
few years back

As it turned out, my pace judgment proved to be about right and I ran steadily to bottom of the big hill.  From there it was a struggle up the hill, and then as fast as I dared down the hill to the finish.  My time of 44:18 (Trotters has calculated the course is equivalent to 10.4km on the "flat" course) was about what I expected, and my position relative to my rivals improved on two weeks ago.  My age-graded points score was about 800, which was OK, but a long way from the 900 I need for a sub-3:00 hour marathon.

Nevertheless, I do feel I'm on the way back to fitness and this hard run was a necessary step along the way.  I'm a great believer in hard running and hills as a way of building speed and this morning's race ticked both boxes.  There are no short-cuts, and there have to be runs and races where you perform below par relative to your benchmarks (aka friendly rivals).  Avoiding these runs and races just lengthens the process of regaining fitness.  The trick is to keep everything in perspective and remind yourself that things may well be different at next month's Time Trial.

Six at Six

I used to have more speed (taking
over from JB in the 1976
Pakenham to Healesville Relay)

A long run had been my plan for today, but the vagaries of washing machine repair scheduling and other commitments ruled out getting enough free consecutive hours for such a run.  As an alternative, I decided to run the weekly Six at Six (6@6) race held in Gosford every Wednesday evening for many years.  It requires five laps around a 1.2km circuit of mixed surface and involves one short sharp concave hill that knocks the stuffing out of you in each lap.  For some years now, Terrigal Trotters has had "ownership" of the event, but responsibility usually falls to one individual, at present Suzy, to manage it each week and publish results.  It is very low key, but provides a good opportunity to develop some speed endurance and for friendly rivalry.  More recently, a number of parents have been bringing their children along to run some, or all, of the laps, so a family atmosphere has developed, and hopefully, some junior athletic interest kindled.

I only got in one track training session before getting injured when initially preparing for this year's Melbourne Marathon.  It may not have been the cause of the injury, but the coincidence of track training and injuries for me in the last ten years is pretty damning.  As an alternative, I have decided to experiment with running the 6@6 as my speed work, even though Wednesday night is not optimal in my training week.  Of course, there was a time previously when I ran 6@6 regularly, but I gave it away when I got injured, so I'm not overly confident it will be a sustainable training option.

Anyway, I drove into the start this evening, arriving an hour before the race, and ran an easy 10km amongst the evening peak hour traffic as a warm-up.  I have vowed to myself that I'm going to warm-up properly before any faster running in my marathon quest, and the extra kilometres won't do my weekly mileage any harm.  It was a worrying that my right arch became a little painful in the last few kilometres, but I decided to run the race anyway.  Only about eight runners turned up, and I was soon well behind the leaders as we climbed the hill for the first time.  I tried to settle into a comfortable pace and completed my 6km in 25:44.  It wasn't a fast time (I really need to be running well under 24 minutes), but it was faster than I expected, and I was pleased that each lap was a little faster than the one before.

I think the long warm-up worked well for me, and I don't feel like I have aggravated any injuries, so I'm hoping to incorporate it into my weekly training program henceforward.

Strategy

2013 started well with 18th place overall
(out of 309) in the Boney Mt Trail Half
Marathon, outside LA in the USA, on
7 January.

This morning, I ran an easy 10km from Terrigal in beautiful winter sunshine.  My right arch still hurts a little and my adductor was again a bit sore, but I'm optimistic that both are continuing to improve.

I've been reviewing my objective to run another sub-3:00 hour marathon, and how long such a quest should be pursued.  Maybe I'm kidding myself, but I still believe that, if things go well, I can do it.  On the other hand, I made three attempts over three years to break the record for the quickest circumnavigation of Australia by bike, solo and unsupported, and each failed for different reasons at about the half-way mark.  Even now, in my heart, I still believe I could achieve that feat if everything went my way, but accept that the risks are significant, and maybe I should leave it alone.

Running a sub-3:00 hour marathon at the age of 62 (or 63), is less risky and less challenging.  For example, in last month's Gold Coast Marathon, the 60-64 Age Group winner ran 2:46!  And, I only have to worry about my body, not road trains or bicycle mechanics.

An old friend, whose opinion I respect, recently told me that there was something a little sad about pursuit of these goals where the chance of success is small.  His view is that I should focus on my running longevity, since I enjoy the sport so much, and not increase the risk of injury by chasing likely futile objectives .  There's certainly some logic to that argument.  For whatever reason, I can't help trying to see how far or fast I can go; to find the edge of the "envelope".  Maybe it's a pursuit of celebrity, and I don't mind the limelight.  My brother says, that since childhood, I've had a "Look at me, look at me!" complex, and I can't deny it.

I accept that pursuing such goals may bring a career-ending injury closer.  However, I just wouldn't be happy if I wasn't running as much as I think my body can reasonably sustain.  That's what I've been doing most of the last 45 years, and its ingrained.  I also know from observation, that at my age (and younger), there are many other things that could unexpectedly bring my running career (and life) to an early halt, so why save myself.

Having said all of that, a sub-3:00 hour marathon is not my only mission in life.  Since retiring ten years ago, I have tried to have one big adventure each year, generally cycling or hiking.  If I haven't managed a sub-3:00 hour marathon by July next year, I will give up on the quest and get back to my usual adventures.  There are many things still on my bucket list.

I don't believe it's feasible to run marathons (and ultras) too frequently if you want to achieve your potential.  My rule of thumb is that such events should be three or four months apart, if you are focused on doing your absolute best.  With this in mind, I have ear-marked the Hobart Marathon (January), Canberra Marathon (April) and Gold Coast Marathon (July) as events I will train for specifically with the goal of a sub-3:00.  I still intend to run the Melbourne Marathon in October, but don't expect to be fit enough to run my best.  As soon as I get back into full training, hopefully, by the end of this month, I will work out a detailed training and race plan to target the Hobart Marathon in January 2014.

Lack of patience

I featured on the advertising poster for the
1980 Whyalla Marathon

I ran another 5km round the streets of Copa this morning, a little faster than yesterday, which was a little faster than the day before.  The sore arch is still lingering in the 3 out of 10 pain range, but maybe getting marginally better.  There's a specific point on the arch where the pain is sharp, but not intense.  More like the pain you would get from a blister.  I hope I'm not on the slippery slope, where I'm so enjoying getting back to some running, that there's a temptation to ignore the pain and keep going.

At least I'm not as bad as 30 years ago when, once I got quite fit, I could not bring myself to pass up opportunities to win races and accept any related travel, despite carrying significant injuries.  In the first half of 1980, I incurred what was initially a minor knee problem, diagnosed as a small tear in my patella tendon.  A few weeks off, once I realised it was more than a passing niggle, would probably have fixed the problem.  But I was on a high after running my first sub-2:20 marathon a year earlier, was very fit, and wanted to "cash in" on my heavy training investment.

The [Euroa] Gazette, 15 April 1980

In particular, I was very keen to take up an all expenses paid trip to Whyalla for the Whyalla Marathon, which I had won the previous year, and to do well in the Australian Intervarsity Championships in Hobart, representing the University of Melbourne where I was doing my Masters part-time.

Initially, I took anti-inflammatories to reduce the pain and enable continued training, but when this didn't do the job, I had a cortisone injection in the offending knee from my sports doctor.  I was warned to train less in the days following the injection, but my definition of "less" involved 120 kilometres of running, including a 15km race, in the ensuing five days.  It was less than I had been doing, but probably not "less" by the doctor's definition, and I paid the price.

Extracts from my 1980 Training Diary

I managed to get through the Whyalla Marathon, coming a disappointing second in 2:30, but a month later, needed another cortisone injection to get me through the Intervarsity week.

Despite two weeks of rest after Intervarsity, my knee wasn't improving and I ended up having surgery to stitch my patella tendon back together and clean out all of the scar tissue.

It was another couple of months before I could begin running seriously again, which in retrospect, seems a fast recovery.  But the reality was that I lost more than six months of my prime running years because of this injury, instead of six weeks if I had managed it conservatively.  Of course, I had some wins and great experiences during this period, but it doesn't compare to what I might have achieved if I had heeded the early indicators of knee trouble and had some time off.

Canine challenges

I'm occasionally bailed up by dogs when running from Copa
to McMasters across the green-marked sand bar.

After walking for 4km this morning, I finished off with a kilometre of slow jogging.  There remains some weakness and tenderness in the arch but the new insoles seem to provide sufficient support to avoid aggravating the injury.  I was not confident about trying to run, but it seemed to go OK and I might try a similar work-out tomorrow.

As often happens on my walks and runs on the Central Coast, I encountered people out walking their dogs.  We never had pets when I was a child, apart from the odd canary and hamster, and I never developed an affection for dogs.  At best, I tolerate them, and when running, I don't like them.

Until recently, I had never been bitten by a dog while out running, but have had numerous unpleasant encounters over the years.  The first instance I can recall of actual physical harm was when out running in the late 1970s with a small group of friends from my home in the inner Melbourne suburbs.  We were running across a park at twilight when I was brought down by a dog careering into my legs from behind without warning of any kind.  I remember hitting the ground hard, sustaining some minor cuts, abrasions and bruises, and banging one knee quite hard.  The owner was very apologetic, but this has not always been the case.

Occasionally, when running across the sandbar between Copa and nearby McMasters Beach, I have been bailed up, pawed and slobbered on by dogs.  It is an "Off Leash Area", but dogs are still supposed to be under their owner's control.  I find it very annoying to be told that it wouldn't happen if I hadn't been running, and have had a few short arguments on the subject with the offending dog's owner.  My usual response is that, if it happens again, I'll be reporting them to the Council, but without the means of identifying accurately the dog or the owner, that's unlikely to happen (and they know it).  In these cases, which have happened in plenty of other places during my running career, I know the dog is usually just being over-exuberant, but that doesn't excuse the dog's owner's lack of control, which is interfering with my activity.

I stayed away from the Beatties Road access to Kincumber
Mountain for five years after being challenged by savage dogs.

Encounters with malicious and/or territorial dogs obviously carry more risk.  One of my good running friends, Keith, and his wife, accepted assignments as teachers in the newly independent Zimbabwe in 1983.  Keith was a very handy runner and tells the story of being the only white runner in the leading bunch of a 10-mile road race through the streets of Harare.  White residents tended to keep guard dogs on their properties that were very antagonistic towards black Africans, and when a couple of these managed to escape their compound as the runners passed by, Keith suddenly found himself in the lead on his own as his fellow competitors scattered.  A couple of them rejoined him in the lead a kilometre or two later, but the others were not seen again.  The corollary of this story is that when we visited Keith and his wife in Zimbabwe in 1985, I joined Keith for a run with some of the students from the poor black school where he taught.  He often paid them a small sum as encouragement to run with him after school, and some of them even ran in their school uniforms ("At least take your tie off!").  Our route took us through the poor African village where most of them lived and the sight of us running generated shouts of delight ("white man running" in the local language) from the village kids as well as unwanted attention from the village dogs who left the black kids alone while defending their turf against the white intruders.

Both towns I lived in while working in the US did not allow fences around houses but required dogs to be restrained or invisible fences (buried boundary wires that generate a radio signal that triggers deterrent unpleasant electric shocks in the receivers on the dogs' collars) installed.  I could never quite get over the expectation that one day, one of the dogs I often saw hurtling towards me across the lawns of a house I was running past was going to burst through the invisible fence and get me.  Apparently it can happen, but it never did to me.

If I am bailed up by dog with malicious intent while out running, I usually do a fair bit of yelling, pick up a stick or stone and act in a threatening manner while slowly moving away.  So far I haven't been bitten in such a situation, but have had some very scary encounters.  Some were so worrying that I have avoided those roads in future.  Locally, there is a nice run up onto the scenic trails of Kincumber Mountain that I didn't use for more than five years after being confronted by two large savage dogs on one occasion.  An old running friend, JB, had mastered the art of letting savage dogs get close to him and then giving them a swift kick under the chin.  I have never been quite brave or confident enough to employ this method.



Blue Heelers are also good at rounding up runners.

In recent times, I have become more cautious around dogs on a lead.  A year ago, as I skirted around a lady walking a large dog in the same direction I was running, it suddenly turned around and launched itself at my throat.  I managed to get my forearm up quickly enough to protect my throat but was knocked sprawling on to the road with scratches on my chest from its front paws.  The owner reacted quickly enough to drag the dog away before it got to me while I was lying on the road, but it was a frightening experience.  Of course, the owner was apologetic and insisted that it had never done anything like that before.  The same excuse was proffered six months later by another owner when their small dog, being walked on a lead, suddenly jumped up and sank its fangs into my thigh as I walked past, drawing blood.  Nowadays, I try and stay out of leash range when passing dogs.

On a lighter dog-related note, another old running friend, Pratty, used to bring his Blue Heeler cattle dog, Bung, with us on some of our long runs.  The dog, which always got very excited when Pratty put on his running shoes, would spend the whole run rounding us up, making sure nobody got ahead, dropped off, or strayed laterally.  It constantly got under our feet and how it did not get run over by a passing car is beyond me.  It is a testament to the strength of our friendship with Pratty that we ever tolerated Bung on our runs.  Ironically, later in life, Bung used to run away whimpering and hide whenever he saw Pratty put on his running shoes.