Conflicts of Interest

With my old running friends at the 2012 London Olympics

In 2012 I travelled to London to watch the London Olympics with old running friends.  Although we attended many different sports, our primary interest was in the running events, and those we couldn't attend in person, we tried to watch live on TV.

Today there has been a lot of news coverage about the World Anti Doping Authority (WADA) finding that systemic drug cheating has been occurring in Russia, and particularly by Russian athletes at the London Olympics.  Despite Russia's protestations, I suspect that the drug cheating is even more wide-spread than WADA has described.  It's like the drug-testing itself, it only formally identifies instances where the proof of cheating is incontrovertible, and doesn't address those instances where it looks likely but cannot be proved.

The start of the Women's 5000m Final

Some months ago, there were stories in the press about the possibility that athletes trained by the former US marathon star, Alberto Salazar, were using prohibited drugs.  It has been denied and nothing has been proved, although I think there is a formal investigation underway.  Some of the allegations revolved around research being done to determine how much of some banned drugs could be taken before athletes would test positive.  I'll bet that there are coaches and organisations in other countries doing the same research.  I guess their self-justification is that if the athlete doesn't fail the threshold-based drug tests, then they haven't broken the rules or gained unfair advantage, but they are kidding themselves.

There have also been leaked IAAF documents in the past year suggesting that performance-enhancing drug use is widespread, particularly among African distance runners, and there have been recent instances of high-profile African marathon runners being banned for drug use.

The start of the Women's 1500m Final

The rewards for cheating athletes, their coaches and their managers are immense.  The kudos is often accompanied by huge financial rewards and increased opportunities.  Ethics and fair play will undoubtedly be ignored by some in the face of such incentives.  The only solution is regulation and high quality testing with severe penalties for transgressions.

However, the WADA findings also seem to suggest corruption on the part of those organisations responsible for enforcing the rules, including the top echelons of the International Amateur Athletics Federation (IAAF).  I suspect that there are other organisers of major athletic meetings and city marathons who will turn a blind eye, or even conspire with elite athletes to hinder drug-testing, in order to have big names at their events.  The rewards for them are similar - kudos, money and opportunity.

Everywhere you look there are conflicts of interest and the only solution involves top-down reform as is the case with other major sports that have been in the news.  Sadly, I've become incredibly cynical.  As much as I want to believe in the integrity of the world's best distance runners, I simply cannot get excited about their performances any more.  I'm not even interested in who the world's best marathon runners are because I simply don't trust in the integrity of the sport.

I joined my usual Tuesday morning running buddies today for 9km with a few hills.  My legs felt wooden in my warm-up and I was happy to follow the pack during the run, with my quads, in particular, feeling very tired.  However, I finished in reasonable shape and will try running a bit further tomorrow, but with no pressure.

Next six months

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

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

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

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

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

2005 Bogong to Hotham finishers.

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

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

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

Self-Management

The Trotters ready for Girrakool to Patonga

I like to think one reason for my last six months of almost uninterrupted running is that I have been giving myself longer to recover from hard runs and trying to mix trail running with road running. (Of course, it might all be luck!).

Last Sunday, I ran the annual Terrigal Trotters' Girrakool to Patonga 25km trail run through Brisbane Water National Park. It's a course that has everything - views, waterfalls, rock ledges, mountains, fern-filled valleys, caves, single-track and fire-trail - and is very popular with club members and me. If you are fit, it is very runnable, and in parts, exhilarating.

Usually on trail runs these days, I'm careful not to run technical track too quickly or descend too hard for fear of jarring my lower back and/or damaging my right heel, not to mention the other obvious risks such as falling or crashing into a tree. However, with some trail races planned over the next three months, I wanted to run hard, and gave myself permission to take some risks. I thoroughly enjoyed myself, particularly on the descents, where landing decisions are made in mid-air, the trees and rocks whistle by, and the adrenalin pumps. Apart from some minor missteps, I survived without incident and recorded what for me was a fast time.

Reaching the bottom of the last descent at Patonga beach.

Since Sunday, my body has been stiff and sore, particularly when rising in the morning.  My legs feel lethargic and my training times have been slow. But all of this was expected and I have been telling myself that by Saturday, when I hope to run a reasonable time in the Trotters' monthly time trial, I will have loosened sufficiently to be competitive. After this morning's 10km plod, I'm not so sure, but I need to have faith in my plan and approach.

Having run long on the trail last weekend, I intended to run long on the road this weekend to give my ankles and heel a rest. However, I have just learned that friends are planning a long trail run through Bouddi National Park, one of my favourites, on Sunday morning. It's a big temptation to join them, and I would probably survive unscathed, but I know that I would be wiser to stick with the road run and my longer term strategy.  We'll see!

Hattah Lakes

Hattah-Kulkyne National Park.

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

Hattah-Kulkyne National Park.

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

Hattah-Kulkyne National Park.

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

Decisions, decisions

Tree Fern Forest in the Dandenong Ranges.

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

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

Sherbrooke Forest trail in the Dandenong Ranges.

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

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

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

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

Leg strength and endurance

Reaching John O'Groats at the end of my hike from
Lands End in 2010.

This morning's 11.5km run was a bit of a grind.  Having had two relatively easy days in a row, I was hoping to feel a bit fresher, but my legs remain heavy with fatigue from Monday's long road run.  The slow recovery tells me I still have some way to go to full running fitness.  I'm simplifying, but my experience is that there are really three phases to regaining fitness after an extended period off running.

Camping while hiking the length of the Australian Alps
Walking Track in 2011.

The first phase, which takes me about three weeks these days (one or two weeks when I was younger), is getting to the point where I feel like a runner again.  It requires my joints and ligaments to loosen up, and my muscles to strengthen, sufficient to regain my running posture and balance.  At the end of the phase I can run smoothly again, but have poor stamina and slow recovery.

The second phase, which now takes me a couple of months, depending on how long I had off, sees the gradual return of cardiovascular capability and muscle strength sufficient to run reasonable times and perhaps be competitive, but my leg recovery rate is poor.  I can run hard one day, or up the first hill, but it's hard to back up for the second.  It is a frustrating time because I know the fitness has in large part returned, but I am still missing something.

Crossing a Swiss mountain pass while hiking the Via
Alpina in 2012.

The third phase is full fitness.  I will know when I get there because I'll comfortably back up from a tempo run with Terrigal Trotters on a Saturday morning with a long run on the Sunday.  I will be able to run up an early hill feeling like there's another gear if I need it, and then be almost fully recovered by the next.  There will be days when I feel like I can run forever.  Amongst my club-mates, there are some in this phase.  They run confidently, knowing they are competitive and can deal with whatever terrain and challenges come their way.

Taking a break while hiking the length of the Hume & Hovell
Track in 2013.

The main factor for me in transitioning from the second to third phases, is leg strength and endurance - the ability of my legs to absorb considerable pounding over a long period.  For me, it is achieved through long miles, usually on the road, and that's why I'm persevering with long road runs, even though they are knocking me around.  There have been occasions, on return from long hiking trips, when I've started my comeback with the leg strength/endurance already there and have achieved good competitive fitness much earlier.  That's not the case this time around, and I think it will be another few months and more long runs before I get there, all going well.

Mind games

This morning's run crossed Narara Creek in Gosford.
(© WoollyMittens)

Even though I had an easy day yesterday, running a relatively flat 10km, I still wasn't looking forward to today's planned 36.5km Round the Bay road loop circling Brisbane Water.  The reasons probably included that I would be doing it solo, and that I'm over-familiar with the course, having clear memories of how hard the last 10km often is.  Of course, I could choose to run somewhere else, to get a change of scenery and a bit more motivation, but then I would feel I was giving in and choosing an easier option.  I often say that it is the sessions you don't like doing that are probably the ones you need.

The Spike Milligan Bridge was also crossed this morning.
(© WoollyMittens)

The tricks I employ to get me through a long tough solo run, will be familiar to many runners.  I start, these days, by carrying an iPod and listening to music, podcasts or the radio.  This helps, just a little, to distract me from thinking about how far I still have to go.  But the main technique to avoid focusing on the distance, is to set intermediate goals.  The Round the Bay course is very roughly an equilateral triangle, and I start at one corner.  The first objective is to complete the first side feeling comfortable.  The second objective is to complete the second side feeling like I have a little left in reserve.  Then comes the hard part.  By this time I'm very fatigued and just want it to be over.  I break up the third side into shorter and shorter sections with a milestone at the end of each - an intersection, top of a hill, or a landmark.  Having them get progressively shorter helps mentally because it takes less time to reach each milestone and I count them down to the finish.

Maitland Bay Road was part of this morning's run.
(© Maksym Kozlenko)

Of course, these mental tricks never really stop me thinking about how far and how long I still have to run, and the closer I get to the end, the more my focus changes to how great it will feel to stop and then walk the very leisurely one kilometre around the park at the finish.  Nothing beats that feeling of relief when I stop running, nor that sense of satisfaction I get as I stroll that warm-down kilometre knowing that I have achieved my goal, made a contribution to my near-term future fitness.......and that will be the last Round the Bay for a month or so because of other running plans.

My time this morning was about six minutes faster (3:18) than last week (3:24), which isn't a lot, but I did feel stronger, and if my right Achilles tendon and knee had behaved themselves, I would have been running faster in the last 12km.

Black Forest

Hiking near Titisee in the Black Forest in 2012.

Revisiting remote (from home) places, will often evoke memories of those earlier visits, even if scores of years later.  There are a number of places in the world where this has happened to me and one is the Black Forest in Germany, and Titisee, in particular.

I was most recently there in May of 2012, as a hiker traversing the Black Forest as part of a three-month trek, primarily in the Alps.  As I passed through, I thought fondly back to my two previous visits, the first as a teenager in the mid-1960s travelling with my family in a campervan, and the second in August of 1975 on another camping tour of Europe.  On this latter occasion, I was also supposedly in training for the Enschede Marathon just five days later, but had found it hard to get in any long training runs in the previous couple of months while travelling behind the Iron Curtain.

Looking over Titisee towards Feldberg in the far distance.

After setting up camp beside Lake Titisee, I decided that a long training run might be in order, and set out along forest trails to run to the top of Feldberg (1493m), the highest mountain in the Black Forest, and return, a distance of about 32km.  I don't remember exactly which route I used, but I do have memories of a dull overcast day, hilly terrain, and dark forbidding conifer forests with little undergrowth, ideal for scary fairy tales.  I also remember that the peak, which is above the treeline, accessible via road and had a large communications tower on top, was covered in cloud and seemed quite eerie with nobody about.  No views either, of course.

Crossing the line in the 1975 Enschede Marathon
(91st, 2:59).

I didn't hang around in the cold, and returned to Lake Titisee via the same route, reaching the campsite three hours later somewhat the worse for wear, ominously for the upcoming marathon.  In the race, I managed 91st place in 2:59, my worst marathon to date at the time, and resolved not to run another marathon without training properly.

After yesterday's tempo run, which left me with the usual sore right Achilles tendon, and some stiffness, I decided to just run an easy 10km today in the hope that I will be fresher for a long road run tomorrow.  I didn't get out until late morning when it was quite warm and felt lethargic and rough.  However, that's quite often the way when it's a bit warm and you didn't really want to go for a run anyway.

No fun

Gosford waterfront is on the Round the Bay course.
(© BigRay)

Nearly three and a half hours of running and can't say I felt good for, or enjoyed, a single step......except for the last one.  That's sometimes the way with long runs.

If I'm honest with myself, it was a bit stupid to try and run the 36.5km Round the Bay course the day after running 14km quite hard with Terrigal Trotters.  I'm not fully fit, and it takes time to recover from hard runs.  It would have been better to try tomorrow and have an easy recovery day today, but I sort of trapped myself by booking my car in for a service on Wednesday.  That matters because the service centre is about 20km from home, and I planned to run home for training (and catch the bus back later to pick the car up).  If I did my really long run tomorrow, then there would be just one recovery day before the 20km run, which is also not really enough for me these days.

The course crosses the Rip Bridge
(© Rob N_!)

Anyway, unpleasant as it was, the long run is done with no apparent ill effects.  The reason it was so hard primarily relates to gait.  Having run hard yesterday, I was dealing with two issues.  Firstly, there was general fatigue and stiffness.  Yesterday, I was running around 4mins/km for some parts, my fastest for months.  I was striding out more and holding my centre of gravity higher and further forward.  That was pushing the envelope of my current fitness, engaging muscles and stretching ligaments more than has happened for some time.  It's not surprising that stiffness and fatigue follows.  But that's good, because as my body responds to these forgotten stresses, by building muscle and increasing the range of movement, I will become a better runner.  In the short-term, however, the fatigue and stiffness impacts my stride length and I run less efficiently.  The consequence of that is a slower pace, discomfort, and even more fatigue than usual.

The course passes along the Tascott waterfront.
(© John Ford)

Secondly, my chronic right Achilles tendon was quite sore after yesterday's run and still painful this morning.  Stretching hurts it more, so subconsciously my gait alters to lessen the pain.  Generally, this means a shorter stride and splaying my feet more.  The latter has, over the years, caused chronic problems with my right knee, so I'm very conscious these days of not splaying the foot too much.  The result is more Achilles pain, a shorter stride, and an inefficient gait.

On the positive side, I'm pretty sure I will start to feel the benefit of today's run by the end of the week.  Three and a half hours of repetitive pounding on hard flat surfaces was hard on the legs, but I know from experience my legs will grow stronger as a consequence.

London to Brighton

Article from a local newspaper
about my first ultra.

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

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

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

The climb over Ditchling Beacon with seven miles to go.

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

The race finishes on the Brighton promenade.

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

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

Fred Lester

Fred Lester in full flight.

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

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

Fred Lester with his hero Emil Zatopek.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Road running

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

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

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

Ward's Hill is steeper than it looks.

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

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