My futile pursuit of a last sub-3 hour marathon, 43 years after the first

Aged nineteen, on 22 August 1970, I ran my first marathon in 2:44, followed five weeks later with a 2:41. I was hooked, and in the 43 years since, have run more than 50 marathons. In my 20s I ran a 2:19, in my 30s another 2:19, and in my 40s a 2:38. As I slowed, the love affair began to wane and I only ran two in my 50s, the best of which was a 3:04. Now in my 60s, with an ageing body and chronic injuries, I plan to deploy all of my experience in pursuit of one last sub-3 marathon.

Showing posts with label Running Routes. Show all posts

Maybe a misjudgment

Negotiating the mangroves bordering Riley's Bay

I took a chance yesterday and ran the longest and hardest run since straining my right calf in a race two weeks ago. Normally I would assume at least three weeks recovery was necessary for a soft tissue injury, but with an ultra-distance trail race looming in early January, I felt the need to get training seriously again.

Though I started out slowly, and never felt like I was cruising, I got through the seriously hilly 14km run unscathed and at a reasonable average pace. My mind was focused on my calf the whole way, but I couldn't detect a recurrence of the injury.

Traversing Maitland Bay

Now, I knew that running longer this morning might be tempting fate, and my initial plans were for an easy and flat 20km. But when club-mates, Kirsten and Melissa, said that they were planning a no-pressure two hour run on trails in beautiful Bouddi National Park, I found it hard to resist and rationalised that that was the distance I was planning anyway. Kirsten and Melissa are good company and friendly rivals of mine and I further rationalised that if I could get through two hours of running with them, I could consider my calf fixed and resume normal training.

The first few kilometres were no problem, though I was quite tired from yesterday, but then I rolled the suspect ankle as we traversed some mangroves and shortly afterwards hyper-extended the same calf when I misjudged a step. From that point on I was conscious of some pain in the lower calf the whole way, though it moved around a bit. I finished the run as intended, but the calf has since been somewhat painful. I enjoyed the run, but should have stuck to my original plan. Tomorrow I will just walk five kilometres, as I usually do on Mondays after a heavy running weekend, and am hoping that by Tuesday the calf feels normal again. If not, I will be kicking myself.

Perspective

Looking towards Wamberal on my evening walk

Sustaining a running injury is a "first world problem" unless you are a professional athlete. I'm not minimising the impact an injury can have on someone who is dedicated to, or maybe obsessed with, running, but it all needs to be kept in perspective.

Terrigal this evening

That's what I have been trying to do since straining my right calf during last Sunday's race. I had built up the importance of the race in my mind and really was upset at not realising my expectations. It's a missed opportunity that may not be repeated, but it's not life-threatening, or even lifestyle threatening, and definitely not unique. It's not hard to make a list of running friends who have had bigger dreams smashed in just the last year. Nevertheless, it's hard to stop thinking depressingly about the race outcome, and I guess the hurt will last a while longer.

On the positive side, I'm now referring to my injury as a calf strain rather than a calf tear. After being painful when walking on Sunday and yesterday, the pain is barely perceptible today, and I went for a gentle walk this evening. I'm trying to avoid undue optimism, or resume running too soon, but if I manage walking without pain tomorrow and Thursday I'll try a short jog on Friday. I would really like to do the Trotters Run on Saturday morning, because it's one I mapped and carries my name (Dave's Damn Run), but common sense tells me it would be a mistake to run with others so soon.

Back on track?

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

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

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

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

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

Surprise!

Running near Winter Park, Colorado

During a US road trip with Sharon and her children in June of this year, one of our early stops was a few days at Winter Park, a ski resort in the Rocky Mountains. There was no snow, but it was still cold at night and there was snow visible at higher elevations.

Sharon and I did a few longish morning runs through the surrounding forests, including one memorable 20km run. The runs from Winter Park tended to be all uphill on the way out and downhill on the way back and I tended to get ahead of Sharon on the climbs and get caught on the descents. This particular run was following the usual pattern and I had a lead by the time we passed through the highest point and began our descent back to civilization.

The moose takes fright and runs off

Approaching the small town of Fraser on a gravel road, I thought I heard the tell-tale footsteps of Sharon coming up behind me, and after a hundred metres or so, turned to see how she was going. It wasn't Sharon at all, but a young moose. We both got a big fright and it scampered off into the forest while I tried to get a picture.

I had been telling my fellow travellers that it can be hard to see moose, and never expected to have one come to see me. I suspect it was a young male checking me out, but don't really know. It's always a thrill to encounter large animals in the wild.

For training today, I ran an easy 6.5km, still conscious of some sensitivity in my right heel, and followed that with nine holes of golf. I will run a bit harder tomorrow.

Marking time

Some of the Thursday morning track group.

The day started with supervision (I use the term loosely) of the Thursday morning track session at Terrigal Haven in the light of a beautiful sunrise. Pity about the flies!

I now live in Terrigal, having moved here from Copa nine months ago, so am within walking distance of the track sessions at The Haven. Walking there and back, my right heel seemed OK, and I was hopeful my post-track session training run would show that it had improved.

Some of the new trail I explored this morning.

As a little more motivation, I decided to check out a pathway I had seen on the map but never run along in the 11 years I have lived on the Central Coast. It wasn't very long, but could be used to add variety to other runs if it proved runnable.

The first couple of kilometres of running were much better, pain-wise, and my mood improved. But by the last few kilometres of the 9km run, the pain was a little more obvious. Nevertheless, it was better than yesterday, and with another couple of easy running days scheduled, I'm hopeful it will be ready for a long run on Sunday.

The new path was short and quite runnable, so will provide an alternative to running up or down the busy Terrigal Drive when I want a change.

West Yellowstone

I have made several trips to the US this year and taken the opportunity to run in many different and sometimes exotic locations. Often the runs made while travelling stick in my mind as much as any other aspect of the trips.

The view from the fire-trail south of West Yellowstone.

One from the small town of West Yellowstone, on the edge of the famed Yellowstone National Park (the best in the US in my opinion), tested me to the limit. I had a long run in my training plan, and needed to do it from the hotel where we were staying to minimise family impact. The few sealed roads passing through West Yellowstone were busy, given that it was peak tourist season, and often had narrow verges, making them unattractive for running. I preferred to run on fire-trails or hiking trails anyway, though none of the latter were near West Yellowstone.

I pored over Google Maps via MapMyRun the previous evening to map out a course that would be easy to follow and give me the distance I needed (40+km). A forest road that headed south, parallelling the Montana/Wyoming state border and the western edge of Yellowstone NP, seemed the best option and I carefully examined the satellite images to verify the map information. There was a saddle and track junction around the 22km mark that looked to be indentifiable and would mark the turnaround if I made it that far. I tried to memorise other significant junctions, waymarks and the elevation profile since I didn't have any maps.

I set off around 7:00am on a cool and sunny morning, and despite the ideal conditions, was a little apprehensive for a number of reasons. Firstly, to travel lighter, I wasn't carrying anything apart from my camera, so was planning to survive without fluids. It was forecast to warm up to near 30⁰C during the day so it was going to be tough if I was out for too long. Secondly, the run was at an average altitude of more than 2000m, high enough to affect performance, though I had been training at similar altitudes for the previous three weeks. Thirdly it was bear country.

Looking towards Idaho from the trail.

Conscious of the distance, I started easily and enjoyed the early running along the very quiet gravel road, bordered by thick conifer forest. If there were any bears in there, I wouldn't be able to see them, and soon I stopped thinking about them, enjoying the solitude. The waypoints were recognisable, as was the climb up on to the plateau, and my navigational concerns also gradually abated. After two hours, not having seen a single person or animal, the trail dipped into a grassy valley and began the climb to the saddle and my turn-around. I was starting to feel tired and warm, and toyed with the idea of turning earlier. However, I knew that although I would be cursing the extra distance on the way back, I would be glad I had persevered after the run.

I reached the track junction as expected and gratefully turned around, reminding myself that every step now was a step closer to the finish. Although bordered by the forest, the road was mostly in the sun, which was now beating down. In another hour, it was becoming a battle and by half-way back my pace had dropped to a plod and I was eagerly checking off the waymarks, which were coming way too slowly. The last hour was ugly, but I never stopped moving, and finally made it back to town and the hotel shortly before midday. Apart from two mountain bikers close to town, I didn't see anybody else at all on the trail, and no bears. Though exhausted and dehydrated, I knew the training run would bring dividends, and happily set off for a day's sightseeing in Yellowstone.

My heel was tender during my run today though not as bad as I feared, and has become less painful during the day. I will try an easy 22km tomorrow, but cut it short if necessary.

Mixed fortunes

Good omen?

As I left my house at 5:00am in the pre-dawn gloom to start my 37km long run, I found a $50 note on the footpath. I hoped that was a good omen, because I really wasn't looking forward to the next three plus hours. I felt a bit tired and sore all over from yesterday's hard 10km, and had even brought along my iPod and headphones, so that I could listen to music as a distraction (something I rarely do these days).

Once I started running, I didn't feel as bad as I expected, and after the usual four to five kilometres of warming/loosening up, I settled into a reasonable pace. The iPod took my mind off the time ahead as many of my playlist tunes are evocative of times and people I have known - a trip down memory lane.

Lake Tuggerah

After the undulating first 12km, the next 10km to The Entrance is flat, much of it along the bike path bordering Tuggerah Lake and my pace picked up to comfortably average sub-5:00/km on a superb early morning. Even when I started hitting some more undulations after 22km, I was maintaining my pace well. But as I climbed a gradual hill with 9km to go, I became conscious of my chronically-injured right heel becoming very tender and painful. Within a kilometre my pace had dropped back to 5:30/km, I was favouring my right heel significantly, and I had lost the good running form I had maintained to that point. I plodded on to the end, not enjoying it at all and hoping that my heel problem wasn't returning to dog my life as it had done up until six months ago.

The Entrance

It's now eight hours later, and the heel is still painful to walk on, though has improved somewhat. I just have a 5km walk scheduled for tomorrow and a shorter run on Tuesday, so I'm hoping that gives it time to recover sufficiently for the 20-25km run I had planned for Wednesday. If not, I'll have to re-evaluate my training and racing plans for the next three weeks. Not happy!

Am I dreaming?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Every now and then

Some of the Terrigal Trotters team on the way to the
Woodford to Glenbrook 25km Trail Race.

It is nine months since my last Woodford to Glenbrook 25km trail run (it was postponed three months last year because of flooding), and my life during those nine months has been quite eventful, particularly on the health front. Five months ago, when dealing with the Deep Vein Thrombosis, Pulmonary Embolism and Atrial Flutter, I was telling myself that if I could just run again, even a few kilometres a week, I would be happy. I did not give myself any chance of running Woodford to Glenbrook this year, so was very happy to not only be on the starting line yesterday, but feeling well enough to race.

My right Achilles tendon and heel remain very painful, but otherwise I have been feeling fit, so I was keen to see what I could do without any great pre-race expectations. Last year I ran 2:01 and was second in the 60+ age group. I hoped to go sub-2:00 this year and win the 60+.

It was a cold morning in the Blue Mountains with an icy wind, but the sun was shining and once we started running the cold didn't seem so bad. I started steadily with the goal of running within myself for the first 10 kilometres, and that approach worked well, though left me weaving through many of the 380-strong field on the rocky undulating fire trail. I didn't push it up the hills, trying to keep my breathing regular, but still sensitive to a pressure I could feel in the centre of my chest as my heart rate rose. This pressure may always have been there, but would have been unnoticed a year ago. A little worrying nevertheless.

A whale wallowed just off Copa beach during my
slow recovery walk this morning.

Even running within myself, I was gaining a few places on the climbs, but was doing even better on the flats and steep technical downhills. As last year, I really enjoyed letting myself go down the hills, trusting myself to react quickly enough on the loose rocky track as I slalomed through slower runners. It made me feel young again, though in a concession to my health issues, I was wearing a medical wristband alerting any paramedics to the Warfarin (blood thinner) I was taking. Cuts would bleed profusely and a bad head knock could risk a brain haemmorhage.

The last 10 kilometres of the race was on a gradual downhill section that seemed never-ending. By this time, my bad Achilles was very painful and I fought to maintain an even stride though every step hurt badly. I still managed to catch a few more people, though lost a couple of places in the last few hundred metres on the race to the finish line.

I was surprised and pleased to see my time of 1:52, and later to find I had won the 60+ age group by 20 minutes. A very satisfying day, though walking today has been very painful on my sore heel. I see a specialist this week to review my blood clot issues and hopefully get off the Warfarin. I'm not getting my hopes up.

Just plain good fun

The scene just after Avoca Lagoon was opened to
the ocean on an earlier occasion.

I wasn't going to write a blog post today, but I enjoyed this morning's run so much, I wanted to recount the adventure. To the north and south of Terrigal, from where the Trotters run at 6:00am every Saturday morning, are two coastal lagoons, Wamberal and Avoca. Most of the time, they are separated from the ocean by sandbars, but occasionally they are open to the sea. Following heavy rains and/or in very stormy conditions they sometimes open naturally, but if the lagoons get too high, the local councils (or, occasionally, enterprising kids with shovels) deliberately open them.

This morning's run, Avoca Amphitheatre, crossed the Avoca Lagoon mouth twice. I knew the lagoon had been opened by the council a week or so earlier, but hadn't actually run that way since. I also knew it was a full moon night, so the tides were likely to be high. And, to make it more interesting, it was very dark and raining as we set out for the 11km run, with the sun not due to rise for another hour.

The front page picture in the Central Coast Express
Advocate Newspaper earlier this week was of the
just opened Wamberal Lagoon mouth.

A number of the runners, including me, were wearing headlamps in the pitch darkness as we approached the lagoon mouth in single file along the bordering trail. On arriving at the channel it was comical to see the lights and shadows of runners swarming, like a flock of small birds, as they examined first one place and then another as possible crossing points. It was absolutely impossible to determine the water depth in the darkness, and I headed towards the ocean opening where experience had taught me it was likely to be shallower. To my right, I could pick out one earlier runner already halfway across in chest-depth water while most others milled on the bank to watch. I plunged into the water nearer the breaking surf and found it wasn't nearly as shallow as I had expected. Soon the water was above my waist and breaking waves were occasionally washing over my left shoulder as I struggled on in the turbulent water. Nearer the other side, the channel was even deeper and very fast flowing as the incoming tide sought to fill the empty lagoon. It was a struggle to keep my feet, but I made it across and was joined by a few other runners before we set off through Avoca Beach for the remainder of the run.

It was an exhilarating experience, and not really dangerous, so long as you were prepared to swim with your shoes on if you lost your footing. I think I was running on adrenalin for the balance of the run, including the recrossing of the channel which was easier in the pre-dawn light.

I know that many Trotters turned around rather than risk the channel crossing, and everybody needs to make their own safety judgments. But for me, one of the joys of running is dealing with whatever terrain or weather is encountered. It yields a sense of empowerment and satisfaction, as well as being just plain good fun.

Canberra

Sunrise over Canberra from Red Hill.

I have been in Canberra the last few days, sadly, for the funeral of a loved and respected uncle. A silver lining to the trip was the chance to go for a few short runs in the southern suburbs of Canberra along roads and trails I used to run when staying with my Canberra relatives many years ago.

The trail atop Red Hill.

Canberra is an ideal running location, with an excellent network of scenic bike paths complemented by trails in some of the hill and mountain reserves that dot the urban area. Even running along the suburban streets is a pleasure with their wide grassy nature strips and mature native trees, although you need to be navigationally careful. Straight roads are a rarity and most roads swing in arcs in one direction or another. It's easy to lose your sense of direction. A bonus for Canberra running is the weather, which is perfect for much of the year. Humidity tends to be low and temperatures generally moderate, though you so need to be prepared for some hot weather in summer and sub-zero temperatures in winter.

Canberra suburbs from Red Hill.

I ran the same 10km loop, but in alternate directions, on each of the last two days in temperatures of around 2°C. The course was a nice mix of those suburban streets and trails in the Red Hill Reserve where I saw a number of kangaroos at close quarters. From the summit of Red Hill I enjoyed the expansive views of Canberra and its landmarks. The runs were most enjoyable, though I could feel some marathon fatigue in the quads. I know there are many other options for great runs in Canberra, short and long, and I have still only sampled a few.

Parliament House and the Canberra Central Business
District from Red Hill.

After the Macleay River Marathon last Sunday, I walked for exercise the following two days and then have run without straining since. My right heel still bothers me quite a bit, but it's hard to know what are the most significant pain exacerbators. I have been swapping the shoes around that I wear during the days and have been running in my Nike Pegasus. I'm starting to think that even wearing the heavily-cushioned Hoka shoes for casual wear is a bad idea because I'm getting pain just walking around. I think I'll stick to the Nike Pegasus for both casual wear and running for the next week or two and see if that makes a positive difference.

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.

Good and bad

Narrow windblown ridges.

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

Dank dark rainforest gullies.

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

Sandstone caves.

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

Glorious vistas.

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

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

A single kilometre

Single track running on
Kincumba Mountain.

This morning's Terrigal Trotters "Erina Bush" 12.5km run is yet another of my favourites. It has a variety of terrain, including roads, trail, hills and flat, and is a true test of fitness. I usually look forward to the run and particularly the one kilometre of very technical single track that climbs gradually through the Kincumba Mountain Reserve.

It seems strange that there's a single kilometre I look forward to in a much longer run but this little kilometre is magic. You have to keep your wits about you to maintain a good pace while carefully picking where you put your feet. We run it at dawn so the forest is just waking up, with a few bird calls to accompany the heavy breathing of runners. There is a fairly solid hill before this section is reached, so it's a challenge to maintain momentum when you are already tired. But the clincher probably is, that as a sixty-three year old, if my fitness is good, it makes me feel young and competitive again. I'm still quite good on technical track when running hard (though I usually avoid running hard unless it's a race), and the closeness of the bush on each side of the trail makes you feel like you are running fast. When I'm in shape, I can still match it with most of my club-mates on this section, which is then followed by one of the best gradual fire-trail descents you can find on the Central Coast.

Unfortunately, for this morning, I worked hard not to be competitive on this favourite run, because I have a 40 kilometre trail run tomorrow. I knew that if I exhausted myself on the uphills, and pounded my body on the downhills, I would struggle tomorrow. I held back, though still probably ran a little faster than was wise. Tomorrow will tell the tale.

Great Train Races

Runners set out to beat the Puffing Billy to Emerald in
a recent Great Train Race.

Some races have an extra dimension that gives them greater appeal, and I have run a few strange ones over the years. I don't know how many Great Train Races there are in the world, but I have been fortunate enough to run in two on opposite sides of the planet.

Puffing Billy.

The first was the race against the Puffing Billy, a restored tourist steam train that runs from Belgrave to Emerald in the Dandenong Ranges outside Melbourne. I frequently ran in the Dandenongs in the 1970s and 1980s on a variety of trails including, occasionally, along the Puffing Billy track, literally. It is a beautiful part of the world with mountains, towering trees, rain-forested gullies and small farms.

Commuter Train waits to leave New Canaan Station.

Someone had the idea of the The Great Train Race, 13.2 km in length, in the early 1980s. I think I missed the first one or two events, running it for the first time in May of 1983 (there is a map of the course here). As I recall, they modified the race format during those first years, as they learnt some lessons. One time, I think, the train driver gave it his best shot and beat all of the runners easily, making it a bit of a non-event. Another time, they had runners trying to beat the train to a level crossing, so they didn't have to wait for it to pass. Nobody got hit, but heavy marshalling was employed thereafter! From memory I ran it twice, but can only find a record of that first time, 18th in 42:44. I believe I beat the train on both occasions, each time running back to the start along the track. It was a fun event and is still on the running calendar today.

When living in Connecticut in the late 1990s, I discovered another Great Train Race that ran from the commuter rail station in New Canaan, a nearby village, to the Wilton rail station, 6.8 miles away (there is a map of the course here). It was much lower key than the Australian version, in several ways, but shared with it a hilly and scenic course, made more attractive by autumn foliage, and lots of fun.

The first difference was that it was not against a single train, but instead against a notional commuter who, leaving on the train that signalled the start of the race, would have to change trains twice, at Stamford and South Norwalk, before getting to Wilton 59 minutes later. It wasn't too hard to beat the train. The second difference was the size of the field. It was a small local race and you could enter almost up until the time the train left. In the two years I ran it, there were only 60-80 runners. I managed third place, in 42:01 in 1997, but was four minutes slower for 46:28 in 2000. As in Australia, a number of us ran back to the start, at a slow plod, once the last runners had come in and presentations had been made. Also like Australia, I see the event is still on the local calendar.

For my training today, I ran a very leisurely 5km, and felt OK by the end. but very rusty over the first few kilometres. Another heavy running weekend coming up.

Lantau Island

Lantau Island.

Another place I would like to run again is Lantau Island in Hong Kong. Although I worked in Hong Kong for a few months in the late 1990s, and travelled there for business on many other occasions, I regretfully failed to explore Lantau Island and the New Territories as running venues. It wasn't possible to go there on working weekdays, and I always seemed to be working on the weekends as well.

It wasn't until Sharon and I visited there in 2008 that I ran any of the Lantau Island trails. We made it part of a long day trip from Hong Kong Island where we were staying. Firstly, we took the train to Tung Chung on Lantau Island, adjacent to the impressive Hong Kong Airport, and then rode the spectacular cable car up to the Po Lin Monastery and the Big Buddha (Tian Tan Buddha). The Monastery complex, including the Buddha, lies on the shoulder of Lantau Peak (934m) and we spent a few hours looking around and having a light lunch in the Monastery refectory before setting out on our run.

The Big Buddha with Lantau Peak in the background.

The planned route followed hiking trails over Lantau Peak and then across the southern side of the island to the Mui Wo Ferry Terminal. There were a lot of steps on the trail up to the Peak and in places it felt quite precarious, but the views were superb in all directions. The descent from the Peak was positively scary in places, but we took it slowly and had no problems. After crossing the Tung Chung Road, which bisects the island, we followed the easier South Lantau County Trail, with occasional technical sections, and some landslide damage, to meet another road that led us down to our destination at Mui Wo.

We then enjoyed a very pleasant sunset ferry ride back to Hong Kong Island and our hotel, having had an excellent day. It wasn't a long run, but it gave me a taste the delights of Lantau Island trails and it's another place on my bucket list.

For my training today, I ran a slow 10km, still feeling lethargic from Monday's long run, and perhaps from some strenuous yard work yesterday afternoon. For some reason, I seemed to be more conscious of my heartbeat yesterday and this morning, but try as I might, I can't detect anything other than the usual slow regular pulse. Probably just my imagination, but it shows the anxiety about a reversion to the Atrial Flutter persists.

Jacksons Track

Looking through an old training diary, I was reminded of one of my all-time favourite running routes. It was from our shack at Labertouche, about an hour's drive east of Melbourne, where we frequently spent running weekends and holidays with groups of running friends. There were lots of opportunities for running on quiet forest trails and rural roads, and I previously wrote a post about another favourite course there, the Labertouche North Run.

Jacksons Track today.

The 19km Jacksons Track - Aqueduct Run started out with the same gradual descent out of the forest into a pretty rural valley along an unsealed road, before turning east and joining Jacksons Track, a quiet rural road (gravel in those days) made famous as the birthplace of the Lionel Rose, who in 1968 became the first aboriginal boxer to win a world title. I never saw Lionel there or knew exactly where on the Jacksons Track he lived, but I liked the idea of running through this little bit of history. Years later, a book was written about the history of the area "Jacksons Track" by Daryl Tonkin & Carolyn Landon, which is a good read in its own right, but which I particularly enjoyed because after years of running in the area I could identify and picture most of the locations referred to in the book.

Lionel Rose (left) on his way to the World Bantam Weight
Championship against Fighting Harada in Tokyo in 1968.

Jacksons Track incorporated quite a long climb before I would turn northwards towards the forested mountains on Nangara Road. After a short distance, I would turn left on to what was known as the Aqueduct, which followed the course of a buried water pipeline running from Tarago Reservoir to the southern suburbs of Melbourne. The Aqueduct trail was almost level, following the southern contours of the mountains and the Bunyip State Forest for 8km all the way back to our shack. Some of it was in tall mountain ash forest, and some of it was in farmland offering beautiful views to the south. It was probably mostly on private land and there were a few gates and the occasional cow to negotiate, but I stuck to the trail and never had any trouble.

I often used the course as a time trial to test my fitness, because it was both invigorating and fast. I quite often ran it in around 67 minutes and can remember one time running it with friends in that time and then running a second lap in exactly the same time on my own. Those were the days!

Looking at the satellite photos, I see that Jacksons Track is now paved and there are now some houses right on the Aqueduct, so the course is probably extinct.

After yesterday's long road run, I just walked 5km today. I felt good, though my right Achilles tendon was quite stiff and sore.

Mind games

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 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.

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.

Etiquette

I was feeling OK this morning on Brush Road just
before the turn-around.

When it comes to running, and maybe some other things, I'm pretty "old school". I'm skeptical about the value of "barefoot" running shoes, energy gels, low mileage and lots of other stuff. Likewise, I have tended to look at runners who hare off at the start of social runs, or run fast down hills rather than hard up hills, as breaking some kind of running etiquette. Of course, this is quite an arrogant perspective, and there are all sorts of reasons why runners run the way they do. It is, after all, an individual sport.

The climb up Wycombe Road exposed
my fitness deficit.

The field for this morning's Terrigal Trotters "Keith's Run", was somewhat smaller because of members competing in The North Face trail races today or the Sydney Morning Herald Half Marathon tomorrow. Before the start, I guessed that the pace might be slower early, and I was right. These days, the Saturday runs are my only fast running each week, so I took the initiative and pushed the pace along a bit faster, and with a club-mate, soon broke away from the pack. By the turn-around, we had a few hundred metres on the chasing pack and were running quickly, but I was tiring. Soon, I let me club-mate go ahead and began concentrating on trying to maintain a good pace to the end. A tough hill added to my fatigue and I was caught by several other club-mates over the remaining few kilometres.

After the run, several of them commented on how fast I had run this morning, but I knew that I had gone out faster at the start while they socialised, and felt guilty about getting unearned praise. I got what I wanted, in terms of a hard, and for me, fast run, but I would have been further behind if I had run with them for the first five kilometres.

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