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.

A big day

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just an easy 5km for me today.

Melbourne evocations

Melbourne High School with the sports ground in the
foreground where our favourite MHSOB track sessions
was "quarters 'til you chuck".

I walked 5km again this morning, trying keep my weight on the outside of my right foot and thus limit any stress on my injured right arch.  I got through the walk pretty much pain-free, but am still quite anxious about the arch's recuperation.  I'll try another 5km walk tomorrow, and then some jogging and walking on Sunday if all is well.

Melbourne, where I am staying for a week, is inextricably tied to my running career.  Almost everywhere I drive, run or walk through the suburbs evokes memories of my early running life.  I did run some cross-country races in school, but it was really only when I graduated from Melbourne High School, enrolled at Monash University, and joined the Melbourne High School Old Boys (MHSOB) Athletic Club, that my serious running career began.

Getting changed (me in foreground) after a run in the
dunes and a swim at Cape Schanck

Although I had just joined MHSOB, where I ran lower grade middle distance events with the likes of future Olympian, Chris Wardlaw, it was the friendship I established at Monash with JB, a fellow Economics 101 student and excellent high school athlete, that really set me on a distance running path.  Apart from introducing me to the exceptionally talented distance running fraternity at Monash University, where JB had much more credibility than me, he lived near me and we began training together.  JB also belonged to a different athletic club, YMCA, whose membership included a number of distance runners with whom I began to train regularly. 

In retrospect, it is obvious that during this period (my late teens), the exposure I had to elite athletes, the running friends I made, and the very modest success I enjoyed, set the course for the rest of my life.  My training was somewhat erratic and experimental, but I was learning by observing and doing.  Some extracts from my training diary are illustrative of my life during this time (with comments in italics).

11 Oct 69 -  Pre-season Trials 1 Mile, Dolamore Oval, 4:51.0, unplaced
I have memories of running at Dolamore Oval with Chris Wardlaw for MHSOB and this may have been one of those times.

8 Feb 70 - YMCA Club Championships 100 Yards, 11.2, 5th; YMCA Club Championships 220 Yards, 25.5, 5th
I wasn't yet a member of YMCA, but they let me run in their Club Champs.

16 Mar 70 - 10am. Freddy's warm-up, 10 X 50 Yards fast.  Tired.
Fred Lester was a German refugee and a renowned eccentric figure in Australian running, founding the Victorian Marathon Club (VMC) and coaching YMCA athletes.  He often set our session training programs, though we didn't always follow them.  As I recall, his warm-up was 8 laps striding the straights and jogging the bends.

19 Mar 70 - 9pm.  10 Miles on the road with JB.  Tired.
JB and I frequently trained at 9pm at night.  I can remember, on some hot nights, we climbed over the fence into the (closed) local public swimming pool to cool off after our runs.  We lived about one mile from each other and later, when John got his car, we would often drive somewhere different on those nights and run there for a change, enjoying the liberation of having our own transport.

22 Mar 70 - Sprinting in sand dunes.  Tired.
We stayed at a YMCA club-mate's family holiday house in Rye back beach for a training weekend.  There were also very competitive games of cricket and volleyball, and games of cards lasting long into the night.

4 Apr 70 - 2pm.  Wimmera AC Meeting 880 yards, 2:06.6, unplaced, 220 yards, 25.7, 5th (against Peter Norman!).  Felt sick because of lack of sleep and bad food.
We drove up to Horsham late on the Friday night from Melbourne, after a volleyball game, and camped at the oval where the running was held the next day.  Peter Norman had won an Olympic silver medal in the 200m in Mexico less than two years earlier, so lining up against him over 220 yards was quite a buzz.

11 Apr 70 - Strathmerton Country Meeting, 2 X 880 yards, 2:09.0 and 2:05.5, unplaced, 3 mile jog.  Tired.
We drove up to Strathmerton late on Friday night, after a volleyball game.  We camped next to the track and fellow athletes included Olympic athletes, Raelene Boyle and Ray Rigby.  The latter, a shot putter, was also astonishingly good at the sprints and high jump.

15 Apr 70 - 3pm.  Represented Universities vs Armed Forces in 800m at HMAS Cerberus, 2:04.5, unplaced.  Exhausted.
I was just making up the numbers for the Universities, and anybody could run.  Monash University, which I was attending, had a number of national and international standard athletes and I was just an also-ran.  Ironically, two years later, I was representing the Armed Forces at the same event, after being conscripted to the Australian Army, and running against some of my former team-mates.

1 May 70 - 1:30pm.  2 miles of Monash University Championships 10,000m.  Not very tired.
I can't remember this race, but suspect I was totally outclassed by the other runners and chucked it in.  Symptomatic of my lack of success over 10,000m on the track, which I always found to be a very tough race.  It made me suspect my toughness when the going got tough.

8 May 70 - 5pm.  Jog 1 mile, 4 X 100m sprints.  Slightly tired. (Hard game of volleyball at 10pm.)
Most of my running friends were very good all-round athletes and we played many seasons of Friday night volleyball at the Balwyn YMCA competition and sometimes on other weeknights in other competitions.

15 May 70 - No training - on way to Brisbane - heavy cold.
I had no car and often hitch-hiked to Brisbane to visit my grandparents and other relatives during university vacations.

6 Jun 70 - 11pm.  10 miles easy.  Very tired, came out in a rash.
I can still remember this run up towards Templestowe late on a Saturday night, probably indicative of my social life at the time.  It was an easy run but I came out in a strange rash when I got home and can remember showing it to my father who was a bit bemused as to why anybody would be out running at 11pm on a Saturday night (in heavy fog) anyway.

13 Jun 70 - 3pm.  APSOB Half Marathon, Yan Yean, 85:54.0 (6:33 per mile, beaten by Dick).  Exhausted.
During this time, I considered myself fortunate to be welcomed to many APSOB (Association of Public Schools Old Boys) events because of ex-Marcellin School friends in the YMCA Athletics Club.  I wouldn't have been happy about being beaten by Dick, who was a friend and reasonable runner in the YMCA Club, but someone I would have expected to beat.  This is probably unfair to Dick and a reflection of my ambitions rather than ability at the time.

20 Jun 70 - 3:30pm.  2½ miles of VAAA 10,000m CCC, Cranbourne.  Pulled out because of knee injury (however, not serious).
Perhaps another example of me chucking it in when the going got tough.

5 Jul 70 - 11:30am.  8 miles orienteering.  Tired.
I remember competing in some of the first orienteering events in Victoria and this may have been one of them.

16 Jul 70 - 11am.  16 miles from Monash University.  Not very tired, but wet, frozen and miserable.
I can still remember arriving back from this run, which was along exposed roads through the windswept hills and paddocks of Melbourne's southeast, to the changing room at the Monash Sports Centre much to the amusement (and, I hoped, admiration) of two star Australian distance runners - Chris Wardlaw and, I think, Bruce Jones - who were about to set off for a shorter training run.

22 Aug 70 - 1:30pm.  VAAA Marathon Champs, Werribee, 2:44:55 (6:17 per mile), 7th.  Exhausted (20 - 24 miles was the worst), suffered from blisters near the end.
I can still remember sprinting some guy off in the last 100m to capture 7th place and the elation that I felt at being in the top 10 in a State championship.  I don't think I had any expectations as to time, but was pleased with the placing.  Afterwards, I felt that this must be my distance.

Another running anecdote

No training to report for today.  Instead, a day spent trying to detect pain in my arch whenever I walked around.  There's barely anything to note, but I'll stick with the plan to leave it for another few days before walking any distance.

I thought I would share another old running anecdote.  Below is an article I wrote that appeared in the June 1986 Victorian Marathon Club Newsletter about an event I had run while travelling in the US.

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ST VALENTINE'S DAY DEBACLE

After an hour's drive in gale-force winds and heavy showers we arrived at the apartment in Sunset, the suburb next to Golden Gate Park, where Australian friends Martin and Veronica were staying, and then we all journeyed by tram into downtown San Francisco.  We arrived at the Hyatt Regency hotel on the Embarcadero 45 minutes before the scheduled 6:00pm race start and entered (with the exception of Veronica) for the St Valentine's Day Striders Fun Run.




Out for a jog in San Francisco more recently.

We were looking forward to competing on the four mile heart-shaped course through the downtown area - particularly Martin who had recently performed well as a guest in the Canadian World Cross Country Trial (where he distinguished himself by running the last half with his gloves stuffed down the front of his jocks, after deciding that frostbitten hands were preferable to risking the family lineage) - but wondered how the organisers were going to police the course.  Not only was it Friday night peak hour, but also the start of a long weekend and it was going to be dark.

In the Race Director’s preamble he informed us that this was a “stride”, not a “race”, and those running too fast would find that they beat the marshals to the corners (of which there were fourteen) – sigh!  Our sentiments were obviously shared by other “runners” among the 100 entries, who included Laurie Binder, former winner of Sydney’s City to Surf, but not by other “striders” who included people dressed in street clothes and even in oilskins.




The crowded streets of downtown San Francisco where the
1986 St Valentines Day Run was held
(I can't remember the route).

The route was complicated so the three of us each grabbed a map to carry.  The course began by crossing the busy six-lane Embarcadero.  A couple of officials (they were the last I saw for a long time) pushed the pedestrian crossing button, dashed out into the road waving at the traffic to stop, and signalled the starter to begin the race.  Miraculously, nobody died at this first obstacle, but the traffic had another excellent opportunity as the participants strung out along the gloomy main road running with their backs to the oncoming cars.  Martin was fortunate (and fit) and found himself sharing the lead with two runners who knew where they were going.  I was less fortunate (and less fit), and being 100 metres off the pace, lost sight of them in the dark and finally had to slow at an intersection to wait for the following bunch.  When they arrived, I discovered they knew as much as me, but were less well-equipped – no maps.  From that point, I was the “Pied Piper”, leading with my map, and shouting “Right on Powell”, “Left on Taylor”, etc., as we dashed across intersections and roads, dodging cars and cable-cars – it was becoming good fun.

Many runners got lost or cut the course short.  Barb saw one runner miss a turn and continue towards the Pacific.  The organisers kindly included some of San Francisco’s steepest hills as well as a flight of over 100 steps and the race finished down the precipitous California Street, with cross-roads every 100 metres – no sprint finishes.  Martin, Barb and I all found ourselves just running in with whoever we happened to be with at the time.  The Finish was “low key” to say the least.  We turned the corner into Justin Herman Plaza, saw an official standing there all on his own, asked him where the finish line was, and were informed we had just crossed it.

Later, some refreshments were provided and a draw held for some nice prizes.  A unique and amusing experience was capped for the evening when I won a bottle of champagne and two fine crystal glasses.

The edge of the mental envelope

It was an early start as usual for the 6am Thursday track session at The Haven in Terrigal, on a crisp and cold morning.  There was a good turn-out and it was pleasing to see so many of the runners showing improvement.  Running is a very honest sport, and barring injury, improvement is directly proportional to the effort invested.



On my way to 2:31 and 2nd place in the 1976 VMC Marathon

We were chatting after the session and I voiced my opinion that improvement will continue to come if the runner keeps nudging the edge of the envelope, both physically and mentally.  It is easy for runners to settle into a routine where they are fit and healthy, but don't push themselves to realise their full potential (of course, this is absolutely fine if running is primarily for the purpose of maintaining good health).

Improved physical ability through harder training is, perhaps, easier to achieve than the mental self-belief needed to fully realise running potential.  The latter does come partially from confidence that you have done the training necessary to run your best times.  However, even then, your performances can be constrained by  the boundaries you set yourself, often unconsciously.  You can think that you are performing at your limit, but in reality, you are not.

My Hamilton Marathon
race number

This was certainly the case in my running career.  For most of the early 1970s I was training hard, running marathons in the 2:30 to 2:40 range, and believing that improvement would come in minor increments, if I was lucky.  Then, in June 1976, I ran a marginal Personal Best time of 2:31 in the Victorian Marathon Club (VMC) Championship for second place behind a visiting New Zealander.  My prize, as the first VMC member to finish, was a trip to run in the Hamilton Marathon in New Zealand in October 1976.  I was over the moon with this prize, my biggest reward to date.  I can still remember walking along the beach near where we were staying after the race feeling a great sense of exhilaration and anticipation. I dreamed of breaking 2:30 in Hamilton, which had a reputation as a fast course.



Barely legible 1976 Hamilton Marathon results

As it turned out, the Hamilton Marathon changed my life.  I ran 2:22, a personal best by nine minutes, to finish in sixth place in a fast field.  I think I just got sucked along and then solid training kicked in over the last half where I gained eight places.  I could not believe my time, and still have doubts that the course was accurate.  A few fellow Australians in the race also ran their personal best times that day, but so far as I know, I'm the only one who ever improved on their Hamilton 1976 time.  However, for me the breakthrough was more mental than physical.  I had probably been capable of running that time for a few years, but had never done it, nor believed I could do it.  Suddenly, I believed I was a 2:20 marathon runner instead of a 2:30 marathon runner and that belief carried me to faster times, and not only in the marathon.

Of course, I have subsequently wondered whether I should have been a 2:15 or 2:10 marathon runner, but there's evidence I lacked the basic speed necessary.  I never broke 4 minutes for the 1500m or 2 minutes for 800m, despite plenty of attempts.  Then again........

After the session I walked a little over 6km as my training for the day.  I could still feel pain in my right arch but am moving a little more freely.

Unexpected hazards

I stuck to my decision of yesterday and did not go for a run, or even a walk, today.  The pain in my arch is minimal walking around the house, so I'm hopeful that after another day off tomorrow, the pain will no longer be an issue.

With no training to report on today, I thought I would include a copy of an article I wrote for my Kew Camberwell District AAC's July 1981 newsletter about an incident in a race earlier that year.

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IT'S NOT ALL BEER AND SKITTLES UP THE FRONT

The gun fired (Fred's whistle blew) for the start of the annual Victorian Marathon Club Tullamarine Half Marathon on 2 May 1981 and the field settled into the traditional bunch to fight the gale-force headwind. The pace was extremely slow, but like half a dozen others, I was more than happy to let a "bigger bloke" bear the brunt of the conditions. The course consists of two equal laps with three-quarters of each lap passing through windswept rural land and the remainder through suburban Tullamarine. Initially you head north into the country and I waited until we turned south out of the wind before making my move to the front. By the time I had covered five miles, I was into the suburbs again with a lead of some two minutes.



On my way to 2nd Place (2:31) in the 1976 Victorian
Marathon Club Marathon Championship.

As I ran along the left-hand side of the broad suburban road (as instructed by Fred) I was contemplating the hazards of starting too fast when another hazard drew itself to my attention. The extremely loud screech of brakes and tyres immediately behind caused me to simultaneously break the Club high and long jump records (not to mention heart rate). I landed in a quivering heap on the grass verge and looked back to see that a bright red panel van complete with wide wheels and chrome trim had stopped about two metres behind where I had been at "lift off". Inside were two lads having a good laugh at a joke I failed to see. We exchanged a few pleasantries, which did little to dissipate my fear-turned-to-fury, and I looked for a more tangible means of expressing my disapproval. My gaze fell on a small stone in the grass and picking it up I took hurried aim (I was now running again) at the open passenger window. Alas! I missed and hit the bright red duco on the door. This was a joke the lads failed to see. The van was quickly in pursuit and pulled into the curb a few metres in front of me. The driver and passenger started to get out but were too late and I was past. The driver's IQ was not as bright as his duco and he tried the same thing again only to miss me by a wide margin. At this point he must have been hit by a flash of inspiration because he drove to a point one hundred metres in front of me this time before stopping.

I unleashed my finishing burst eleven kilometres early and rapidly closed on the rear of the van as the driver struggled for traction on the road attempting to round the front of his vehicle. He was wearing football boots and they were slipping on the bitumen! The passenger was also getting out and I really put my head down. The driver reached the grass verge and accelerated rapidly but not quite quickly enough and I just managed to evade his outstretched hands. My nascent sense of victory was aborted by the sight of another van stopping further up the road. Two large fellows got out, and with arms spread-eagled, blocked the path in front of me. The footballer was still hot on my heels and I had visions of the rest of the field seizing their opportunity to overtake while I was pummelled to a pulp on the footpath. On my left was a metre high school fence. Just as I was about to vault it and head for Mildura, the fellows in front yelled to my pursuers to leave me alone and moved apart to let me through. They then jumped on the footballer and I never looked back. However, I did run on the right-hand side of the road for the remainder of the race (despite Fred's remonstrations) figuring that if the lads wanted to run over me from behind they would at least have to drive on the wrong side of the road to do it.

[Footnote:  I finished 1st in 68:16]