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.

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.

Jacksons Track

Countryside near Jacksons Track.
(© Bardaster)

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.

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.

Fiji Run

Wambina fire-trail.

The Bureau of Meteorology had warned that this weekend would be the coldest for ten months, and it ominously started to drizzle while my fellow Terrigal Trotters club-mates checked in for this morning's 15km "Fiji Run", named for the palm grove passed through en route.  However, it wasn't that cold and most were wearing T-shirts as we set off at 6am in the red-tinged dawn twilight.

Part of the "Fiji Run" course.

As was the case last weekend, I may have over-committed running-wise, which is par for the course.  Tomorrow there is a Club 33km trail run, and running a tough 15km this morning was likely to make tomorrow even tougher.  Rather than test my limits, I hung back early and resolved to run the whole distance at a comfortable pace, with the goal of finishing with something left in the tank.  Despite my advanced years, I still struggle to contain my youthful enthusiasm and competitive nature, and as the run wore on, I gradually started reeling in some of those ahead of me.

Part of the "Fiji Run" course.

However, about half way, when we hit Wambina Nature Reserve and the steep climb up to the ridge, I was brought to my senses and tried to reach the top of each climb without straining and negotiated the steep technical and slippery descents carefully for fear of injury.  The last few kilometres along the road allowed me to stretch out again and I was pleasantly surprised later to find my Garmin had me averaging about 4:30 per kilometre, which is faster than I thought I was running.  I seemed to pull up OK, but tomorrow will tell the tale.

My club-mates seemed to enjoy the course, which I had cleared and marked two days ago.  It was a bit rough in parts, but the adventure of going somewhere new or rarely-visited appeals to most Trotters.

Leon's Run

Yass Golf Club.

No running yesterday, just the drive back to Copa from the mountains with a stop for nine holes of golf at Yass on a beautiful day on a very pleasant course.  I knew I needed time to recover from Thursday's longish trail run and have found that an easy walk of five kilometres or so (even if punctuated by some terrible golf shots) is a good way to work out some of the stiffness.

It's confronting, in my sixties, to compare how long it takes to get over a long hard run these days compared to thirty years ago.  There was always fatigue and some stiffness the next day, but these days I'm practically immobile when I first get up, walking extra carefully and slowly downstairs and limping to avoid undue stress on damaged joints.  I sometimes wonder if it's a portent of life in my eighties, if I make it that far.

Glimpses of Gosford from atop Kincumba Mountain.

On the other hand, it's gratifying and often surprising to find how much improvement comes with just a day's rest or easy walking.  The thought of running yesterday had no appeal whatsoever, while today I was keen to see whether the improved strength I felt running up hills on Thursday was real or imaginary.  Although still moving gingerly after my 4:30am rising, I had confidence based on experience that once I started running I would loosen up and feel fresher.

Part of the level fire-trail atop
Kincumba Mountain.

Today's Terrigal Trotters run was the popular 14.7km "Leon's Run" from the beach to the top of Kincumba Mountain and return on a mix of road and fire-trail.  I think it's popularity stems not only from the sense of accomplishment in running to the top of the mountain (and the ensuing exhilarating descent), but also from the contrasts it offers en route - starting from the surf-lapped beach, often in the dark, and traversing sleepy suburbia to reach the forests of the mountain in the early light.  It's a serious climb, but then you get to enjoy three kilometres of  relatively level running to the turnaround point and back along the mountain crest during which you get to say hello to your clubmates travelling in the opposite direction.  If you're having a bad day, you get to see how far they are in front and who's catching you, and if you're having a good day, you get to impress those following and see who in front might be caught.

I had a good day today, considering the past four months, despite wondering a couple of times whether I could sense undue pressure in my chest during the harder parts of the ascent.  Each time, I backed off just a little so my breathing didn't become too laboured, but suspect it was just my imagination.  I definitely ran my best since the heart and lung ailments of Christmas, though there remains plenty of room for improvement.  The tank was empty for the last few kilometres.

Heavy weekend

The runners gather at Somersby for the start
of the trail run.

The weekend proved to be a test of stamina, and not just running stamina.  It started with the Terrigal Trotters' run "Tegart's Revenge", a 14.5km course, early on Saturday morning.  I expected it to be my hardest run for some time, and it didn't disappoint.  It's not that I went out quickly, but it is one of those courses that has long stretches where you build momentum and then maintain it - good for tempo running - and I regretted not being fit enough or healthy enough to mix it near the front of the pack where I knew it would be fast and competitive.  Still with an underlying anxiety that my heart problem will return, I stuck to my pre-run plan of never stressing myself to the point where I was gasping for breath, but the long sections of concrete path and road were punishing for my unfit legs and I was very tired by the end.  It was a pleasant surprise to find I had averaged 5mins/km pace for the distance which also included some significant hills.

On the early part of the trail run.

The afternoon and evening were then spent at an outdoor rock concert in the Hunter Valley where many of the audience and performers were my vintage, though few looked capable of running 14.5km.  By my standard it was a very late night, and I didn't get to bed until after midnight.

The 4:45am alarm on Sunday morning was unwelcome, but unavoidable.  I was the organiser of trail run with my fellow Trotters and had to meet the bus at Staples Lookout, the finish point, soon after 6:00am for the drive to the start.  At Somersby we began for the 29km run back to Staples along The Great North Walk trail.  This section is a particularly nice run, but the terrain gets progressively harder, and the warm and humid weather had us all soon sweating.  I knew my legs would be tired from yesterday's hard run and that the lack of sleep would take its toll, so I started out very gently, close to last of the 30 runners.

Looking west from Mt Scopus on the trail run.

I settled into a gentle rhythm, my stiff and tired legs gradually loosened up, and I really began to enjoy the running.  I did have a couple of stumbles and two falls, neither of which did any apparent damage, perhaps because I was carrying my feet too low on the technical trail.  I reached the drink stop at 16km in good shape, but aware that the remaining trail was very challenging.  Even though I walked up the steep rocky stepped climbs, they took their toll in the heat and I knew I should have carried more fluids.  My tired legs began finding the descents just as taxing as the climbs, and with about 5km to go I began to feel a little light-headed, struggling to keep my balance at times.  Despite my disorientation, I was aware that my heartbeat was still regular and strong, so I wasn't too concerned.  I pretty much walked the last 3km, which was almost entirely uphill, but that was OK.  My time was slow, but it was a great feeling just to have finished.  I recovered quickly, very happy to think that trail runs of this length were now back on my agenda, even if slower than I would like.

After getting home in the early afternoon, I began sneezing a lot and my sinuses became congested.  It proved to be the start of a heavy head cold which was worse today, so I didn't bother going for my planned walk.  I usually wouldn't let a head cold stop me exercising, but after the solid weekend, I figured it would do more good than harm to have the day off.

Forest Park

Forest Park, St Louis.

Forest Park in St Louis is another location that lives large in my running memory.  Between 1992 and 1997, while living and working in St Louis, I frequently visited the park for races organised by the St Louis Track Club, of which I was a member, and to train on its perimeter track on my own, or with friends.

I wouldn't describe it as the most scenic park I have run through, but it had good paths, greenery and a nice 9km lap.  But, despite its name, little forest.  The terrain wasn't so tough, but the weather could be.  St Louis is renowned for its hot and humid summers and freezing winters, and I can remember running and racing in those extremes as well as in some beautiful spring and autumn weather.

Forest Park, St Louis.

The park has history as well, being the site of the 1904 World's Fair and some of the 1904 Olympics events.  It also hosts several museums, an outdoor theater and the St Louis Zoo.  As a teen in Australia, I could remember watching Marlin Perkins' "Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom" television series produced when he was director of the St Louis Zoo.  Who'da thought, thirty years later, I would frequently be running past his zoo on the other side of the world!

Forest Park in winter.

It was just a 15 minute drive from my home or office into Forest Park along the freeway and I could easily find a parking spot at the park's south-west corner.  Running clockwise, the perimeter lap started with a gentle downhill 1.5km followed by a long flat stretch along the park's northern edge.  If you were feeling good, you could really wind up on this section and then try and maintain your momentum as the path began gently climbing towards the south-east corner, the 6km mark.  From there the path paralleled the highway to the south of the park, passing the Zoo and Science Museum along the way.  This section always seemed like it should be flat, but actually you were climbing most of the way and it was often tough to maintain the pace established early in the run.

Even now, warm humid evenings evoke fond memories of running around Forest Park.

I didn't go for a run today, but walked about 5km while playing golf.  I'm really looking forward to tomorrow's Terrigal Trotters Matcham Valley 15km run, one of my favourites.

Rob de Castella

Me (in green hoops) at the 16km mark en route to my PB marathon
(2nd, 2:19:06) behind Rob De Castella (1st, 2:14:44) at Point Cook,
Victoria, in June 1979.

One of my claims to fame is that I ran second to Rob de Castella, Australia's most famous marathoner, in his first marathon.  The apocryphal story is that Rob only ran the marathon, the 1979 Victorian Championship, to get a place in the Victorian team for the Australian Championship to be held in Perth later in the year.  His girlfriend lived in Perth, and he had no money.

I've often said that to be a great runner you need to inherit the right genes from your parents, have the self-discipline to do the necessary training and hard-nosed racing, and be lucky enough to avoid serious injury.  I think Rob had all of those attributes and used them to become the best in the world.

Winning the Cinque Mulini race
in Italy.

I first became aware of Rob when he was still a junior athlete and can remember him as an impoverished student driving an old Peugeot 403 and camping near us for one of the first Bacchus 12000 races at Griffith (see post titled Bacchus 12000).  There was no arrogance, but you sensed there was enormous potential and I was always a keen follower of his running career and proud to know him.

We were more acquaintances than friends, but often trained with the same groups, especially on the long Sunday runs in the Dandenongs (see post titled Ferny Creek 21).  As I recall, after running the regular 21 Miler for some years, I decided I needed to add some distance to bring it up to 25 miles some Sundays, and was gratified to see Rob occasionally following suit a few months later.  There were also some Wednesday evening runs in Melbourne.  They were fast 15-20 milers after work over inner city parks and roads and I can remember grimly hanging on to the small bunch of class runners as we flew across Royal Park at better than 6 minute mile pace.

Although he had already represented Australia internationally as a cross-country runner, that first marathon in 1979 signalled the start of a famous career that included Commonwealth Games, World Championship, Boston and New York titles, along with a world's best time.

The last time I trained with Rob was when we passed through Boulder, Colorado, where he was living as a full-time professional athlete, while travelling the US in 1985.  The morning run was a few miles with him and Rosa Mota, one of the best female marathoners of her era, and the evening session was on the track at the local university where I was totally out of my depth in twelve laps of sprinting the straights.

He was always a class, or two, above me as a runner, but I felt a kinship because I knew first-hand how hard he trained to get where he did.

I ran just 5km around Copa this morning, but maybe ran a little harder.  I coped well enough, but never felt comfortable.  I was stiff and my knees hurt.  What was more disturbing, however, was the post-run read-out on my heart monitor which showed an erratic beat for the first ten minutes.  It could be a technical glitch, but I was conscious of an uneasy feeling in my chest early in the run.  Memo to self: start slowly and build into future runs.

Toronto

Looking north over Toronto

My right Achilles tendon was very sore when I woke this morning and still sore when I went for a gentle 5km walk a few hours later, despite adding an old heel raise to my shoes to lessen the stretch pressure on the tendon.  Much of the walk was spent pondering how to get past the Achilles injury and start running well again.  The starting point was asking myself what has changed since earlier in the year when I had some good fitness.  I'm seeing the doctor tomorrow about my exercise-induced asthma, but maybe it results from a change in my training pattern.  Perhaps running the Six at Six race on Wednesday nights and following up with a Thursday morning run is an issue.  I need more than 12 hours between runs these days and running only in the evenings is neither practical for me, nor desirable.

My course headed north out of the CBD along Yonge Street

The Achilles loosened up a bit during the walk and I decided I might be better to concentrate on improving my base fitness ahead of speed for the next month and revert to two longish runs per week plus a tempo run at Terrigal Trotters on Saturday mornings.  If I can get round 10km tomorrow morning without too much pain, I'll try something longer on Wednesday morning.  It was another beautiful warm morning in Copa and the icing on the cake was watching a large pod of dolphins surfing just offshore in the sizeable swell.

The last part of the course passed by Queens Park near
the University

Dolphins and surf seem a long way from Toronto in Canada, where I worked frequently during the six years from 1997 to 2003 when I was based in New York.  I had responsibility for a group there and generally tried to spend two or three days working out of the Toronto office every two weeks.  Although I enjoyed working with the Canadians, I have to say I found Toronto a bit bland from a runner's perspective.  As a large city on a relatively boring piece of water, Toronto is similar to Melbourne and Chicago, but lacks the near downtown parks and waterfront paths of the latter two.  My usual hotel was in the downtown area and I tried a number of different routes in various directions before settling on a favourite Toronto 14km, for my early morning runs.

Basically it was just a long rectangle stretching north of the business district into the suburbs, and given that Toronto is located on a long slope with Lake Erie at its base, the course was mostly uphill on the way out and downhill on the way back.  It wasn't that interesting, but there's something that appeals to me about long straight stretches along street-lit roads in the early morning as the city awakes.  Another aspect of this course I liked was that, by the time I had worked hard on the uphill outwards leg, I was well warmed up, and then the return downhill trip, with the last part through the University precinct, was often run at a fast and enjoyable pace.

Tempo runs

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

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

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

__________________________________________________________

TUESDAY NIGHT TRAINING

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




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

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

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

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

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

Erring on the side of caution

My training plan had a 22km tempo run scheduled for today, but I had already decided last night to do an easy 10km instead, at the most.  My bothersome right arch seemed better than yesterday, and I set off for my run with some optimism, but like yesterday, after about half a kilometre I felt a slight burning sensation in the arch and then some low level pain on foot strike thereafter.

Running has been a source of many memorable experiences
all over the world.

I decided to switch to my 5km flattish loop through Copa, running slowly and deliberately limping a little to protect the foot.  The pain was still only a 1 - 2 out 10, so not very bad, but I'm worried there's a chance it could become worse if I persist.  Many years ago, when I was a National Serviceman in the Australian Army, I developed a serious arch problem that impacted my running for a year or more.  I blamed it on Army boots, but don't really know what caused it.  The pain I feel now seems faintly familiar, so there is some reason for concern.  On the other hand, I ran 36km on the road two days ago and that didn't make it too much worse, so I'm guessing a minor tear of some sort is the problem.

After completing the run, I spent some time Googling my symptoms, but couldn't positively match them to an injury.  Most arch queries related to running suggested plantar fasciitis, but I don't think that is the problem (hopefully).  I can't really say why, but I sense that if I give it total rest for a couple of days it may repair enough for me to run without pain.  I may be wrong, but I've decided to give it a shot and have two days of minimal activity with no running and then resume running on Friday.  Managing injuries is the most difficult thing most runners face, and as discussed in a previous blog post, it sometimes only takes a few steps to go from "fit" to "out for three weeks", or worse.  And there's no "do overs".

Risk analysis

After the lower back stiffness and nerve tingling of yesterday, I was quite anxious about how I would go at this week's Saturday morning Trotters' Avoca Amphitheatre run.  This was to be the first serious tempo run in my training program for the Melbourne Marathon and I hadn't tried to run fast, apart from Thursday evening's track session, for two months.  I was very conscious that running fast with the niggles left over from Thursday significantly increased the risk of injury.  However, I'm also very conscious that to get myself to the level of fitness necessary, I need to try and follow my program.  This will involve taking some calculated risks and not taking it easy every time I have a niggle.  The terrible thing about running injuries, especially soft tissue (muscles, ligaments and tendons), is that they can happen very quickly, often in a couple of strides, and there's no going back.  A soft tissue injury at this point will set me back a minimum of six weeks - three weeks for the injury to repair and three weeks to get back to where I am now.  A sobering thought.

Looking back down one of the gentler hills on Trotters'
Avoca Amphitheatre run

My approach is to take commonsense precautions, such as making sure I'm warmed up and starting slowly.  Then, if an injury occurs, I can put it down to bad luck and the risks that must be taken to reach new fitness levels.  I have always found that in running, as in life, you make the best decision you can given the available information and accept the consequences, be they good or bad.  There's no point in looking back and saying "what if?".  If the worst happens, accept it and move on.  If it resulted from a deficiency in your analysis, then learn the lessons and don't repeat the error next time.

Running is definitely a sport where you learn more and more about your own body as you go along.  The hard part is harnessing that knowledge to make smart decisions and avoid emotional choices.  I know that I have always been a lot better at suggesting rational running and injury management plans to others than following them myself.  I was notorious in my running club, back in the eighties, for suggesting to attendees at marathon running clinics we organised, that "consistency and moderation" were the key to success.  My fellow clubmates knew that my own training was anything but "moderate" - 240, and more, kilometres a week.

Anyway, for this morning's run, I found time for a one kilometre warm-up beforehand and then started slowly at the back of the pack as we climbed the challenging Kurrawyba laneway away from Terrigal.  After a couple of kilometres, I felt sufficiently warmed up to begin chasing the leaders, who by now were long gone.  I was moving well and feeling fit as I gradually worked my way through the field, though I lost my momentum a bit on the infamous climb up Coast Road and never did catch Ian or Kev.

It was a satisfying run, and where I want to be at this stage in my preparation.  I did have some sharp pain in my right instep at times and am hoping that it is just a minor issue.  Maybe the way I tied up my shoelaces today?  I will find out tomorrow when I tackle my scheduled long road run.

In the dark

Friday, 14 June 2013

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



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

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

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

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

Terrigal Trotters

Saturday, 1 June 2013

I have come to love my Saturday morning runs with Terrigal Trotters.  There’s a lot to like about a Club that consistently draws more than 100 people down to the Terrigal beachfront for a 6:00am run every Saturday morning, rain hail or shine.  Saturday runs are recorded for each member and several have more than 1,000 to their credit.  I’m on the Club Committee and do a few volunteer jobs around the Club so still go down to Terrigal, even if I am injured, but it’s much more fun when I am fit and running well.  We have a variety of courses between 10 and 16 kilometres in length and most incorporate some killer hills and trail.  They start socially, and then get more serious for those of a competitive nature in the second half.  I enjoy the camaraderie and rivalry and savour the sometimes hard-fought runs back to the beach and finish.



Terrigal Trotters gather after a Saturday morning run

I believe that it’s important to have some fast “tempo” running as part of a training program and the Saturday morning runs with Trotters provide a weekly opportunity  for one.

However, for this morning’s run, I knew I would be foolhardy to get competitive, given my still tired and sore body.  So I hung back early, chatting to friends and waiting for my body to warm up and see how I was moving.  There were a few tough hills in the first four kilometres and I just jogged slowly up them, passing many of my fellow Trotters who tend to walk up the very steep hills.  As is usually the case, the hills warmed me up quickly and by the top of the first, I was getting into a comfortable running rhythm.  For the rest of the run, I concentrated on just running steadily without straining and fought off the temptation to chase some fellow runners I could see ahead, who I would usually expect to beat, and on whom I was gradually closing.  I could feel the competitive juices starting to flow, but restrained myself and finished the 13.5km run comfortably tired.  There were still a few niggles, but I feel like I am making progress on my plan to spend these three weeks turning myself back into a runner after three weeks of hiking.