Physical introspection

Quarry Track in Bouddi National Park.

Motivation was low today and I down-scaled my originally intended 15km road walk to one of 10km including bush trails and beach.  Part of my ennui stems from the feeling that I could do more exercise than is currently wise.  The 10km walks all week have been completed easily and I haven't strayed into the "Amber Zone" where I begin gasping for breath and feel my heart pounding.  Maybe this is because I'm getting better at managing my impaired cardio-vascular system, or maybe it's because it is gradually improving.

While not forcing the pace, I walked steadily at around 5km per hour, and after circling round the southern side of Cockrone Lagoon, followed roads and a fire-trail steadily upward to the highest point in McMasters Beach.  As I walked I found myself constantly reviewing how I was travelling, especially up the steeper climbs.  Was my breathing steady or was it becoming more laboured?  Was my heart racing?  Was that slight ache in the back of my left chest heart-related?  Was I at all light-headed?  All runners coming back from injury, or tapering for a race, will recognise this nervous physical introspection phase where every niggle and sign is examined to see if it is something more ominous.

View from Bombi Point in Bouddi National Park.

I continued walking towards Little Beach, then on reaching a trail junction, decided to change my planned route and followed the Quarry Trail up into Bouddi National Park.  It's a trail I have run along a few times over the past ten years, but it's not part of my regular training routes.  One advantage of walking, as opposed to running, is that you get more time to look around and appreciate your surroundings, and once up on the plateau, this trail passed through some beautiful and peaceful woodland, disturbed only by an encounter with Joe and Deirdre, some Terrigal Trotter friends out on a long bush run.

View from Bombi Point in Bouddi
National Park.

I was starting to enjoy my walk and decided to follow the Bombi Point trail, a dead-end trail that I have often passed, but never followed, when running through the Park.  After a gradual 1km descent on the sandy track it ended at the top of a precipitous cliff offering spectacular views along the wild coast and out to sea.  A heavy swell was crashing into the base of the cliffs and the spray was rising high into the air, though still many metres below my vantage-point.  It was a breath-taking location, and a little scary closer to the cliff edge.  I will be including it in future walks and runs.

My route home followed some familiar and lovely single track winding through sheltered and mossy rainforest, and then after some road walking, finished along the beach from McMasters to Copa.  It was low tide which makes the walking easy and there were lots of holiday makers out enjoying the Australia Day weekend and the end of summer vacation for many.

I have discussed in previous posts ("Getting out the door" and "Small explorations") the value to me of training somewhere more interesting when you have one of those days when you just can't be bothered, and today proved the point.  It wasn't quick, and there was a bit of dallying here and there, but I covered 13km without trouble.

Relays

Fellow Kew Camberwell team members for the
1980 New Zealand Road Relay Championships.

There is plenty of camaraderie in distance running, but it is not usually thought of as a team sport.  There are club competitions run by various State and National running organisations for road and cross-country running, but my observation is that it still ends to be an individual competition with the performances just aggregated to determine team positions after the event.

The exception is relay racing where each individual runner is very conscious of their team membership and expectations.  I have known runners who almost always perform better in a relay race than when they are running for themselves, and others who find the pressure too much and choke.

Start of the 1980 New Zealand Road Relay Chempionships.

Most of my relay running was done in the 1970s and 1980s when I was a member of Kew Camberwell District AAC and its antecedents.  In our heyday we were one of the strongest distance running clubs in Victoria and derived some perverse pleasure from our lack of national and international stars of the kind that characterised the ranks of the two best Victorian clubs, Glenhuntly and Box Hill.  We were a club of journeyman runners who enjoyed fierce, but good-natured, competition amongst ourselves then took great pride in our ability to be competitive with the best clubs in team competition.

Running my leg in the 1981 New
Zealand Road Relay Championships
(9.6km, 29:34).

Although there were some relay competitions in Australia, it was the annual New Zealand Road Relay Championships that really caught our attention after Glenhuntly returned from competing there in 1979.  The competition in New Zealand was of exceptionally high standard and the event, which called for a team of ten to run an average of 10km each, was very competitive and continues to this day.  As I recall, the super Glenhuntly team had only just got onto the podium.

We managed to muster sufficient members to run in the competition in three different years in the early 1980s, but it was the first trip that sticks most in my mind.  We travelled over as a group starting in Auckland where we competed in a local road race before driving south in a hired van to Wellington where the Relay was to take place the following weekend.  There were 23 teams in A Grade and our goal was a top ten finish.  Glenhuntly were there again.  Our early runners excelled themselves, and the rest of us lifted to match their efforts.  I was only a few months past major knee surgery and couldn't run very well downhills so was given a 6.2km all uphill leg.  I wasn't at my best, but can still remember the pressure I felt to maintain our good position on that long climb.  The junior runner in our team who ran the downhill leg after me, wore the soles off both his feet blasting down the hill and had trouble even walking in the days that followed.  I can still remember Chris Wardlaw, a two-time Olympian and Glenhuntly team member, complaining to us "that seven legs have passed and we still haven't caught you bastards", or words to that effect.  That made our day.  Their class ultimately told and they finished seventh overall, but we were just two places and two and a half minutes behind.

The Kew Camberwell team for the 1983 New Zealand
Road Relay Championships.

We never did quite as well in the subsequent years, but I'm sure all of us who ran in the Kew Camberwell teams still remember them fondly.

Being Saturday, it was the usual Terrigal Trotters run at 6:00am, and I went down to meet my friends who were running and went for a 6km walk while they were out.  I feel like I'm treading water, waiting for the specialist appointments and my body to repair itself.  Not much else I can do at present, but it's very frustrating.

T-shirts

T-shirt Quilt - Side 1.

I am a bit of a hoarder and in 45 years of running have collected quite a lot of trophies, finisher's medals and T-shirts.  The trophies and medals are mostly stored away in a cupboard and just don't evoke the same sentimentality as the T-shirts.

Some are treasured because they were from a memorable race, such as the London to Brighton in the early 1990s, my first serious ultra.  Others date from early career, such as the All Weather Running Club from my school in London.  Still others are valued because they are reminiscent of a particular era in my running life, such as the Bacchus 12000 shirts earned on the trips with club-mates to Griffith in the early 1980s.  Many just have a great eye-catching design, such as the Quivering Quads and Pere Marquette trail races from St Louis in the mid-1990s and several were given to me by people returning from events such as the 1981 World Cross-Country Champs.  A number don't relate to running events at all, but are still meaningful, such as the souvenir US T-shirts that were all I could find to buy and run in (along with some fleecy shorts!) when my baggage got lost on a business trip to Washington DC.

T-shirt Quilt - Side 2.

The common denominator with all of these T-shirts is that they have covered many kilometres, visited many places, and been laundered to within an inch of their lives.  Even as they shrank and lost their shape, I still loved them and couldn't bring myself to throw them out even though they were no longer wearable.  So, a couple of years ago, I asked a friend whether she would be willing to cut them up and sew them into a quilt.  The result is a superb piece of art and artisanship that fills me with pride and memories whenever I look at it.

No specific walking for exercise today, but I did play nine holes of golf which equates to about 5km (probably longer, the way I play).

“On Death and Dying”

Looking towards Avoca Beach from North Avoca
during today's walk.

Serious runners with more than a few years behind them will be familiar with the psychological impact of injuries.  As discussed in my post titled "Punctuated Equilibrium", major injuries have derailed my running and racing plans and, perhaps, permanently inhibited my running potential.  Even soft-tissue injuries that later healed completely, were devastating when they thwarted plans for a big race. In dealing with such injuries, to some degree or another, I have recognized my own emotional progression in the stages identified by Elizabeth Kubler-Ross in her seminal work “On Death and Dying” - Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance.

With my recently-diagnosed health problems - Deep Vein Thrombosis (DVT), and associated Pulmonary Embolism and Atrial Flutter - I can feel myself travelling the same road again.  The territory is familiar, though maybe amplified by the potential whole-of-life impact of the diagnosis, and I am confident I will eventually reach the "Acceptance" stage.  In the meantime, I'm tracking my progress through the earlier stages of the process.

Avoca Lagoon.

Denial.  When, during the Terrigal Trotters' Santa Run just before Christmas, I first experienced unusual shortness of breath, palpitating heart and excessive fatigue, I didn't believe there was a serious problem.  It was warm and humid, I had been training hard, and I was wearing an Elf suit.  Worst case, I had picked up some kind of bug, which would pass in a few days.  I was still in denial a week later, but finally accepted something was seriously wrong when I struggled badly a week later in the monthly Trotter's 10km Time Trial.

North Avoca Lake Track.

Anger.  After the diagnoses, it appeared likely the originating DVT resulted from failing to drink enough following a warm long run before having a longish nap.  Low blood pressure, viscous blood, and inactivity combined to produce clots.  No doubt other risk factors were involved, but addressing these two may have prevented the problem.  I kept returning to the day in question and asking myself why I didn't stop at a store on the way home to buy a drink, as I would usually do, and why I recently started having post-run naps when for decades I had "pooh-poohed" the idea?  Why had the heart and lungs that had served me faithfully for 45 years of serious running now let me down?  Shouldn't the years of training have made them more resilient?  Would things have been different if I hadn't recently changed my shoe brand after decades with Nike Pegasus?  Overnight I had moved into a new demographic.  I was now discussing heart issues with my step-mother as an equal when a month earlier we had seemed to live on different health planets.  There was also anger that I could no longer exercise with the same intensity, perhaps impacting my health in other respects.

Avoca Lagoon.

Bargaining.  I have kept Googling, reviewing the medical websites and the experiences of others, and theorising on the quickest acceptable way to return to running.  Positive snippets of information are seized on, but often discounted or disregarded after rational consideration.  If I have larger lung and heart capacity than the average human, then even if they are functioning sub-optimally, I should be able to jog conservatively when others would be limited to a walk?

I'm still in the "Bargaining" phase because I don't have good information about my prognosis yet.  No doubt, I'll keep coming up with hypotheses that get me back to running sooner rather than later, but know that expert opinion based on my particular situation is needed, and that feedback will only start with my specialist appointments at the end of February.  I periodically experience some symptoms of the "Depression" and "Acceptance" phases, but feel those phases are yet to come, and I will discuss them in a future post.

Another 10km of easy walking for exercise today following the early morning track session at Terrigal Haven.  I tried walking somewhere less familiar to make it more interesting and that seemed to work.  If I want to keep walking 10km each day, maybe I'll have to drive to some varying locations.

The Warrumbungles

The Breadknife.

A favourite Australian running destination of mine, which I don't get to visit often enough, is the Warrumbungle National Park in central New South Wales.  It's a long way from anywhere, which explains the paucity of visits, but it has excellent hiking (running) trails and wonderful camping.  In the 1970s and 1980s, we spent a number of vacations there, often with friends.  There would usually be a morning run and an evening run, with the day filled with hiking, reading, volleyball and cricket games, and the evenings devoted to board and card games around the campfire.

Belougery Spire.

In any stay, my favourite run was a 23km loop that incorporated some of the Park's main hiking trails and scenic highlights.  From the campground, the first few kilometres followed Wambelong Creek across the open grassy valley floor and past small groups of kangaroos, before crossing the main road and climbing to join one of the Park's main hiking routes, the Pincham Trail.  The Trail then followed the small babbling Spirey Creek upstream towards the mountains through the shady dry eucalypt forest for about 3km before leaving the Creek and ascending more steeply, including some steps, to the Warrumbungles signature landmark, the Breadknife, a thin slice of towering rock, and the High Tops, where the vegetation is occasionally more heath-like.

Our group camping in the Warrumbungles in May 1978.

The views are spectacular from the High Tops and sometimes we could hear and see roped-together rock climbers slowly ascending the sheer Belougery Spire across the narrow deep valley to the east.  As the trail continued westwards, generally following the ridge to the Western High Tops, there were more views, sometimes taking in the distant flat grazing lands of the Western NSW plains.

After 15km, the running route joined the Burbie Firetrail which it followed downhill through the dry eucalypt forest, occasionally steeply, back to the valley floor and an easy run back to the campground along Park roads.

Post-run wash in the Warrumbungles in
May 1978.

It is not a particularly long run, but is technical in parts and has the steep and taxing main climb that make it a good work-out.  It's another of those runs which I used to fly along in my prime, but would now be happy to just jog around, stopping occasionally for the views.

No jogging for my exercise today, but I did manage another 10km walk, including some long hills, without any ill-effects.  I'm finding walking for two hours along well-known routes quite tedious, mentally, despite listening to the radio or podcasts as I go.  I would like to walk this far most days until I can jog again, to maintain leg and joint fitness and to raise my heart rate at least a little, but I'll probably alternate with shorter daily walks in the interests of having a sustainable regime.

When to run again?

My walking route this morning took me through the
Avoca Beach Markets.

When I went to bed last night I had decided that today's exercise would include some light jogging.  It's not so much that I'm desperate for an endorphin high, or even the satisfying fatigue that follows a run.  It's more that I was very fit four weeks ago and I can feel that condition ebbing.  I know these feelings are familiar to all injured runners, but this time around I'm conscious that a miscalculation on when to start running again could feasibly have fatal consequences rather than just a setback in recovery time.

Avoca Beach Markets.

So, this morning, while enjoying my cup of decaffeinated coffee, I surfed the Web and pondered the most rational approach to a return to running.  I don't want to take stupid risks, but I don't want to be too timid either.  Finally, I decided to just walk 10km today and use the time to work out a rational strategy.  I do my best thinking while walking.

The first conclusion I reached was that the Deep Vein Thrombosis (DVT) diagnosed seventeen days ago was still at significant risk of throwing off small clots that could impact my lungs and heart.  Many sites on the Web indicated a minimum of four weeks and usually six weeks for DVT's to resolve themselves.  I should probably wait another three weeks and possibly an "all clear" from another ultrasound exam of the lower right leg before resuming jogging.

Avoca Beach Markets.

The second conclusion I reached was that my exercise, whether walking or running (when the time comes), should be at a pace which does not push my heart/lungs into what I'm calling the "Amber Zone".  Twice during today's 10km walk, near the top of steep and longish hills, I could feel myself beginning to struggle for breath and an unpleasant sort of pressure (not pain) building in the base of my chest as my heart began to race.  It was as though the clutch was slipping and no drive was being transferred from the engine to the wheels.  This was the same feeling I had when running faster up hills just before being diagnosed with Pulmonary Embolism (PE), so I'm becoming familiar with it.  I didn't have to stop walking for the sensation to abate today, but did need to slow right down to a dawdle.  I would define the "Red Zone" as being the need to stop and sit down, and I have not reached that point yet, nor do I want to.

Avoca Beach Markets.

Like most chronic injuries, I feel like I'm starting to get a handle on how to manage it, but know it is not wise to look for the "edge of the envelope" as has been my inclination in the past.  I also know that, even after the DVT has resolved itself and the clots in the lungs are no longer an issue (which could take months), I will still likely need some sort of medical procedure to address the Atrial Flutter problem before I can start running hard again.  Patience!

[I have posted my Post-DVT Training Diary here, or it is accessible from the Links menu at right.]

Katahdin

Mt Katahdin

One of my favourite places in the world to run or hike is Mt Katahdin in Baxter State Park in Maine, USA.  My then wife, Barb, and I first visited the Park in 1985 when we were touring the US for a year.  It's worthy of a visit in its own right, but my interest had been piqued by a former work colleague's wife, a native of Boston, who had told me about the 3,500km Appalachian Trail which had its northern terminus on Mt Katahdin.

Moose

The place had an early impact on me.  While running from our campsite on the first morning, I encountered a moose.  Every visitor to Maine hopes for a moose sighting, but my first was completely unexpected and very exciting.  I was just cruising along a deserted park road through a conifer forest at the base of Katahdin when, in the misty early morning light, I saw what looked like a very tall man walking along the road towards me.  As I continued on, the shadowy figure got taller until I finally worked out that it was a moose strolling obliviously in my direction.  They're not generally dangerous, unless you hit them while driving (22 people killed in Maine in the last decade), but they are intimidatingly large, often reaching a height of more than 2.5 metres.  Finally, the moose woke up to my approaching presence and crashed off into the forest.

Reaching the top of Katahdin after 3,500km and
4 months of hiking in August 1986

Later that day we climbed the spectacular Mt Katahdin (1606m), a 17km strenuous round trip along the Hunt Trail.  It involved some taxing and scary boulder scrambling, and a very exposed plateau-like top, but the views from the peak of the isolated mountain were spectacular and rewarding.

Fifteen months later, I was back there again, completing my northbound Appalachian Trail hike (and spotting a few more moose on the way), but this time the views were limited and the weather deteriorating.  After four months of hiking it was, nevertheless, a profound moment in a spiritual place.

Looking down Hunt Trail on Mt Katahdin

Another thirteen years passed before I saw the top of Katahdin again, this time during a family camping trip to Maine while we were living in Connecticut and I was working in New York.  I managed to squeeze in a return run from our campsite to the peak before the day's activities, and enjoyed having the whole mountain to myself in the morning light.  Despite the steepness and difficulty of some sections, the return trip only took about 2.5 hours.  It brought back many memories, as I'm sure it will when I set out southwards from there this coming October (fingers crossed!).

I managed to comfortably walk 10km for exercise this morning, including some significant hills.  I felt good all the way and spent the last half rationalising a return to gentle jogging next week assuming my INR blood test shows my anti-coagulant levels are in range.

Ron Clarke

Ron Clarke

Way back in the mid-1960s, I was living in London where my father had been posted for three years.  Like many young teenagers, I played several different sports and still believed, that one day, I could be world class in one of them.  Sadly, reality gradually dawned on the tennis court, cricket ground and rugby field as I recognised a lacked of the physique and ball skills to ever be a champion.

Like many expatriates I was proud when homeland heroes did well on the international stage and Ron Clarke toured Europe at just the right time to get my attention.  Just a few months after my family settled in the UK in 1965, Ron toured the US and Europe, breaking 12 track world records, including becoming the first man ever to run 3 miles in less than 13 minutes, 6 miles in less than 27 minutes and 10,000m in less than 28 minutes.  The times themselves didn't mean much to me, but Ron's style of running did.  Although he seemed to lack the finishing kick to win tactical major Games titles, he was a machine when it came to world record attempts.  He generally ran from the front and gradually burned off his competitors, often breaking world records by prodigious amounts.  Ron was indisputably the best distance runner in the world during the mid-60s.  Possessing the characteristics of toughness, discipline and excellence that I admired and aspired to, he was a worthy hero.  I don't want to overplay it, but he certainly got me thinking that running might be my sport.

Ron Clarke wins bronze in the 10,000m at the 1964 Tokyo
Olympics behind Billy Mills (USA) and Mohammed
Gammoudi (Tunisia)

After returning to Australia and getting more serious about my running, I became even more appreciative of Ron's talents and record.  I probably saw him at Victorian running events during this time, but have no specific memory.  However, when I began to reach my marathon prime in the late 70s and did well in some bigger races we had some brief interactions and he got to know who I was.  I remember being very proud when I won a small fun run in Melbourne's north-eastern suburbs and Ron, who was presenting the prizes, referred to me as one of Australia's up-and-coming distance runners.  I can also remember him giving me a toot on his car horn near the Tan as I ran to work during the morning commute.  His acknowledgement seemed to give my running efforts credibility in my own mind, and that was important to me.

Ron Clarke tracks Michel Jazy (France) during a
1965 two mile race in France in which Jazy
broke the world record

The sad thing about Ron's career was that it was brought to a premature end by a heart problem he believes developed during the high altitude Mexico City Olympics in 1968.  He faded quickly in the last few laps of the 10,000m final after being in contention with two laps to go, collapsed unconscious after crossing the line and was given oxygen.  A few years later he was diagnosed with a heart defect and in 1983, after suffering fibrillation during a run, had successful surgery to replace a faulty valve.  You can read an excellent summary of Ron's career here.

No fibrillation or flutter for me today as I walked a flat 7km for exercise.  I felt fine, but remain despondent that this is all the exercise I am allowed for the next six weeks.  It's very tempting to see if I can jog around my usual Copa 5km course at an easy pace, but I guess I'll follow the doctor's orders.

Fibrillation or flutter

Part of my walk around Copa today

I wasn't really anticipating any good news when I had a long consultation with my GP today, just a summary of the tests so far and referrals to some specialists.  If anything, I came away a little more positive.  She confirmed that all of the blood tests for more sinister underlying conditions had come back within normal range, and provided more detail on the cardiac tests and leg ultrasounds.

Apparently, the cardiologist diagnosed Atrial Flutter (AFl) rather than Atrial Fibrillation (A-fib) as being my heart condition, and according to the GP, this is the better diagnosis to have.  I gather A-fib is chaotic disorganised beating of the Atria while AFl is regular, but way too fast, beating of the Atria and may be a little easier to treat and sometimes stops of its own accord.

Looking north from Captain Cook Lookout
during today's walk

The leg ultrasound report found "some occlusive thrombus in one of the peroneal veins from 7cm below the knee crease to 20cm below".  The GP says her starting theory would be that the thrombosis in the leg has thrown off small clots that have impacted both my lungs (Pulmonary Embolism) and heart (AFl), but has referred me to a respiratory specialist and a cardiologist to try and confirm the diagnosis and prescribe treatment.  In the meantime, I continue with the Warfarin anti-coagulant.  The earliest specialist appointments are six weeks away, but I guess the fact that I'm not seen as an urgent case is a good sign.  It probably means, however, that my exercise is going to be limited to walking until at least the end of February and any prospect of returning to serious marathon training in time for the Gold Coast Marathon in July is remote.

Looking south from Captain Cook Lookout during
today's walk

I won't abandon the marathon goal until I speak with the specialists, and dearly want to resume regular running.  However, I am already mentally more focussed on the need to be fit for my next planned adventure, a 3500km southbound hike along the Appalachian Trail from Maine to Georgia in the eastern US starting in Autumn (October) and finishing in the Spring (March).  I know there is a possibility that this too could be scuppered by my current health problems, but I'm trying to be optimistic.

I walked about 8km today, not particularly quickly, and felt fine the whole way.  I gather that regular leg use is recommended in the treatment of Deep Vein Thrombosis, so being able to walk 8km without pain or other problems must be a good thing, I reckon.

Little (Beach) hiccups

Looking towards McMasters Beach

For today's blog post, I was planning to write about one of my favourite local 10km runs, the Little Beach circuit, and set off to walk it with my camera.  This was to be my longest walk since I stopped running two weeks ago, but I reckoned that provided I didn't push it I would be OK.  Going clockwise, the first section of this course goes along the beach to the village of McMasters Beach.  It was a beautiful sunny Sunday morning and the beach was busy with holidaymakers walking and jogging its length.  The fairly steeply sloping beach meant walking up on the softer sand to avoid getting my shoes wet by the occasionally larger incoming wave and I could feel I was working harder than if I had been walking along a road.

McMasters Beach

I didn't slack off, keeping up a good pace and left the beach at McMasters to climb a steep concrete path that would take me towards Bouddi National Park.  I walked quickly up the short hill, but near the top began taking huge gulps of air and could feel my chest pounding, as it had done on a few runs in the week before being diagnosed with Pulmonary Embolism (PE).  Not good!  Only a month ago, I would have run up this hill without even noticing it.  I slowed to strolling pace and decided to cut my walk short and head home.  On more gradual gradients at an unpressured pace, I was fine and got home without further concern, but the whole episode was quite depressing.  Not knowing whether the problem is the PE or Atrial Fibrillation (AF) or both, and what can be done about it, just compounds the problem.

I know I just have to be patient, and although I'm determined to keep walking up to 10km a day, this morning's episode reinforced the need to avoid pushing the pace.  According to my Web research, there's no standard time for blood clots to dissolve, whether in the legs or lungs and I must resign myself to several more months of limited exercise, at least.

Cockrone Lagoon at the end of today's walk

Today was also the day on which the 64km Bogong to Hotham race was held in the Victorian Alps, an event I had been training for before the PE hit.  Several times during the day, I thought enviously about where the runners would be on the course, and that hasn't helped my mood.  I have a consultation scheduled with my GP tomorrow, and although not expecting any new revelations, I do anticipate getting referrals to specialists where I'm hoping for more clarity about my condition and prognosis.  However, it won't be a speedy process.

Mental adjustment

The MacPherson Forest loop was my last long trail run

It is a challenging (character-building?) time for me.  I find myself constantly re-evaluating my situation, looking for plausible positive scenarios (while trying not to fool myself), and fending off the darker morbid thoughts that must come to anybody who suddenly finds they have a potentially life-threatening medical condition.  I always assumed that my serious running career would be brought to an end by some major joint failure.  I did not expect it to be threatened by a cardio-vascular event, and it's taking time to get my head around the consequences.  With joint failure, there were always going to be alternative forms of endurance exercise such as cycling, hiking or kayaking to fill the running void, but a cardiac problem will be just as much of an issue for those activities.

MacPherson State Forest trail run

It's amazing how quickly your perspective changes, especially with the resources of the Web and Google to inform you.  I'm already thinking about changing the title of this blog to "The Futile Pursuit of a Last Sub-3 Hour Marathon" as it's hard for me to believe that I will ever be able to subject my heart to the stress necessary to run that fast again.  New goals are formulating.

Of most importance to me is the ability to exercise most days and feel good about my health, well-being, and quality of life.  It would be great to include occasional long "no pressure" trail runs, and be able to go for extended hikes/rides in remote places.  Compromises will be needed, along with patience.

MacPherson State Forest trail run

I have already decided I'm willing to reduce daily and weekly distances, give up the pursuit of age-group podiums, and even walk up hills.  If it seems likely to reduce the risks, I'll cut out caffeine (despite my well-known penchant for Diet Coke and Pepsi Max) and stop using my asthma inhalant, Symbicort.  All of these things - too much endurance/hard running, caffeine, steroid-based asthma medications - are statistically correlated with Atrial Fibrillation and cited as possible risk factors.  Age (I'm 63) is another significant risk factor, but I can't do much about that.

There will be more tests and doctor consultations to come, and there are still plenty of "unknowns", but it will help me deal with the situation if I've started mentally adjusting to the life-style compromises that may be required.

Trotters

Terrigal

Last night was the monthly Terrigal Trotters Committee Meeting at the Terrigal Surf Life Saving Club.  I always get a sense of privilege rocking up to the Surf Club on a Monday evening during holiday season.  Terrigal is a very popular holiday destination and during the summer you have to make your way through throngs of holiday makers knowing that by next month's meeting they will all be back at work or school and you will still be here, continuing to enjoy the delightful beach, hinterland and weather that have attracted them for their vacation.

Terrigal Surf Life Saving Club

Over my athletic career, I have belonged to a succession of running clubs - Melbourne High School Old Boys (defunct), Kew Camberwell District (defunct), Croydon Harriers (UK), Colchester & Tendring (UK), Watford Harriers (UK), St Louis Track (US) - and now Terrigal Trotters.  Along the way I have served in various Committee positions in some of these clubs and Terrigal Trotters stands out as unique.  Most Clubs seem to rely on two or three people to do much of the work assisted occasionally by other club members.  At Terrigal Trotters, without counting the numbers, I would guess that there are 20 people who make a very significant contribution to the Club's activities and many more who are willing to help out with particular events.

Terrigal Trotters Santa Run

The Committee is energetic and the Club inclusive.  Membership is growing and there are new people showing up for every Saturday's run, many of whom soon become hooked on the format and camaraderie.  It's fun to be a part of and volunteers enjoy involvement in professional and successful events.  Such success feeds on itself, drawing in more volunteers and participants.

Each month, one of the Committee Meeting agenda items is to nominate people who have made an exceptional contribution to the Club in the previous month and then select a Club Person of the month.  It is illustrative that there were 30 members nominated for their efforts in the past month.  Surely a sign of a vibrant club doing it's bit to promote fitness, health and fun.

Terrigal Trotters Christmas Party

My exercise today was another 5km walk around Copa.  I felt good and really wanted to be running.  Unfortunately, resumption still seems to be some way off.  My Echocardiogram this morning revealed significant Atrial Fibrillation in my heart and the specialist immediately sent me off for an Electrocardiogram (ECG) which confirmed his diagnosis.  The results still have to be reviewed by a Cardiologist, so I don't have a detailed report, but Googling the condition makes it plain that I have been lucky, will remain on Warfarin to reduce the risk of Stroke, and will need to consult some specialists before daring to run again.

Mixed feelings

Ultra-running legend, Pat Farmer, running
with friend, Dina, near the end of the
"Round the Bay"

Today was Terrigal Trotters' "Round the Bay" run, which is traditionally held on the first Sunday in the New Year.  At just over 37km of roads and concrete bike paths, and usually in humid conditions, this a tough run.  Three weeks ago, I had been planning to use it as a long training run, but the Pulmonary Embolism diagnosis a week ago changed all that.

The event, which circumnavigates Brisbane Water, and is followed by a picnic breakfast, has become increasingly popular within the running club, and today was no exception.  Fifty-five people completed the circuit, including one group of walkers who began at 2:00am!  Some slower runners started at 4:00am while the main bunch set out at 5:00am.

Despite injury, Wayne nears the end of
his 13th consecutive "Round the Bay"

To get some exercise, I drove down to the start in Gosford and then walked 4km out and 4km back along the last section of the course with my camera, photographing the runners and walkers as I encountered them.  It was inspirational to see so many of my friends out testing themselves, including some suffering from injuries and/or a lack of preparation.  In just about every case, I managed to coax a smile out of them, despite their exhaustion.  My friend, Wayne, who is the only person to have run every one of the twelve editions so far, and has had a bad couple of years with various injuries, still found the determination to finish and preserve his record.  We have had a few good tussles on this course in past years.

Trotters gather for breakfast and a low-key presentation
after the "Round the Bay"

The inspiration provided by my friends this morning was, sadly, somewhat offset at frustration with my own situation.  It was only eighteen days ago that I ran the same course on my own without pressing the pace in quite a reasonable time.  I need to remind myself that eighteen days is not that long, and that I was still running up until a week ago.  Assuming next week's Echocardiogram is clear, I may be jogging in another week, and won't have lost much fitness.  Other people with my condition would just be thankful to still be vertical, and I need to remember that too.

Lost opportunities?

Boney Mountain

I joined the usual throng of Terrigal Trotters at Terrigal beach this morning for the regular Saturday 6:00am run.  I was sad not to be joining them for "Bob's Hill", another of my favourites, but reflected that I was lucky to be there walking and sharing time with friends.  Several Trotters who share my demographic are dealing with significant health issues, including one who recently suffered a more serious and life-threatening episode of Pulmonary Embolism than me.  Fortunately, he seems to be on the road to recovery, but it's another reminder to live for today, particularly when you get older.

A year ago, almost to the day, I enjoyed one of my happiest racing experiences for some time.  Sharon and I were on the last day of a three-week vacation in the western U.S., and ran in the Boney Mountain Trail Half Marathon west of Los Angeles.  After a steady start, I worked my way through the field in the second half, which included a 2000ft climb, and after a helter-skelter descent, finished in 18th place in a field of over 300.  The next runner in the 60+ division was 33 minutes behind.  I didn't believe I could still run so fast and thought then that it was likely to be the racing highlight of 2013 for me, and that's how it turned out.

Reaching the bottom of the descent
from Boney Mountain

I do get frustrated when I miss races and other running opportunities, but know that physical brittleness and vulnerability come with age.  I can accept the injuries and illnesses, so long as I don't feel I have given up my quest to be the best runner I can be, and don't incur them through making stupid choices.  All runners have those moments when injury strikes and they just wish they could have a "do over" and avoid whatever caused the problem.  Sometimes it results from doing something foolish, but often it's just plain bad luck and could not reasonably have been foreseen.  The challenge is to strike a balance between testing your limits and being foolhardy in pursuit of your potential.

I would like to think I didn't make any poor choices leading to injury or illness since Boney Mountain last January, but know I have learnt a few things about myself, particularly the growing need to warm up longer and/or start slower for anything fast.  Good choices or bad, I still had plenty of downtime and failed to produce any performances comparable to Boney Mountain.  However, it was only a year ago, and common sense tells me that not too much athletic potential can have been lost in just one year.  I still believe that if I can string together three or four months of consistent and smart training and racing, there's no reason why I couldn't get back to that form.  This is what keeps me going.

.....some days are stone

After 8km, a few hills were a little harder than I had anticipated

Although I knew it would be hard work, I planned to try and run 36.5km this morning on the Round the Bay course here on the Central Coast.  I'm unhappy with my fitness and long runs have always been a relatively quick route back to form for me.  I knew I wasn't fit enough to be worrying at all about the time I would run.  Instead, I just wanted to complete the first two-thirds of the roughly triangular course without getting too tired, and then make my way to the finish as best I could.  Perhaps unwisely, after another late night, I chose not to get up early and set out around 8:45am on another warm sunny day along roads busy with morning peak hour traffic.

The early kilometres passed comfortably enough, with neither my right Achilles tendon nor my right arch injuries causing me excessive pain.  After 8km, a few hills were a little harder than I had anticipated, confirming that this was going to be a hard run.  By 15km, under a relentless sun, I couldn't stop thinking about how good it was going to be to stop, and kept telling myself to run efficiently.

By 15km, under a relentless sun, I couldn't stop thinking
about how good it was going to be to stop

By 24km I was really struggling to maintain a reasonable pace and the minor climb into East Gosford around 27km pretty much finished off any pretence of good running form.  I was just shambling along, uncertain of how I would manage another 10km.  Ultimately, I decided to run to the intersection at 29.5km and then walk the remaining 7km back to my car.  I regretted not carrying a $20 note with me for emergency use, but was mollified by the thought that walking the last 7km might be an appropriate of punishment for not running the whole way.  I have walked when running this course before, but only once that I can remember, and on that occasion I was unfit, over-weight and it was warm and humid.  Although it was warm, I would have expected to do better today.  Only a week ago I had managed the 32km Orchard Run in reasonable form, so maybe I am still labouring with some minor ailment.

As I walked along the sun-soaked footpath I was very tempted to lie down and close my eyes for just a couple of minutes in the shade of a tree in one of the small grassy parks I passed, or maybe on the bench in one of the bus shelters.  This was a tell-tale sign of exhaustion, just as the longing for a Mars Bar is a sign that I have exhausted my glycogen stores and am burning fats.

With about 4.5km to go, I passed a car parked by the footpath and heard my name called.  It was a fellow Terrigal Trotter, Alison, who had driven passed me and returned, wondering whether I needed help.  I gratefully accepted her offer of a lift to where my car was parked, and my ordeal was over.

Although I had managed to run about 30km, it was demoralising not to finish the run as planned.  At the time I injured my arch, just over two months ago, I had run the same course reasonably easily in a satisfactory time.  It's hard to accept that, despite having resumed training more than a month ago, I'm still not back to where I was.  I do hope that it's just the last vestiges of an ailment slowing me down and that normal service will shortly be resumed.  However, as Alison said, at least we are running.  She is running after missing more than a year with injury.

Adaptation

The use of trekking poles has made a big difference to the
ability of my knees to deal with long hiking expeditions.

I'm in a bit of a quandary about my new insoles, bought to alleviate the pain in my right arch.  As you would expect, wearing these orthotics feels a bit strange in my shoes when running, and although they have certainly eased the arch pain, they have also affected me in other ways.  Normally, after resuming very easy running for a week, I wouldn't expect to have the aches and pains I'm currently experiencing in my feet, ankles and legs.  This morning, I couldn't even manage a quadriceps stretch in my right leg because of the pain it generated in my right knee.  This is unusual, and a bit of a worry.  My right knee has been very troublesome in recent years and I don't want to aggravate it.  It is the same knee on which I had surgery in 1980 (see previous "Lack of patience" post).

On two occasions in the last seven years I have had to stop running for extended periods because of pain in this knee, and on both occasions, scans revealed significant damage.

"Large chondral crater of the lateral patellar facet"

"Marked patellofemoral joint arthrosis, particularly laterally. Subchondral
bone change. Patellar tendinopathy. Torn medial meniscus."

Extended rest allowed the painful inflammation generated by these problems to abate and then careful resumption of walking and running enabled my gait to adapt, but I'm keen to avoid a recurrence.

That's not me, but I spent many hours hanging in
inversion boots to alleviate a lower back problem.

Similarly, thirty years ago, the stress fracture of a small bone in my lower back (left minor pars articularis) led to the displacement of a vertebra and years of significant sciatic pain that severely impacted my running.  Time has stultified the tissue around the vertebra, providing local support, and my posture and muscle strength have adapted, to gradually take pressure off the sciatic nerve.

For both injuries, doctors and specialists said surgery was an option, but might not improve my ability to run and might cause future complications.  It was suggested, explicitly and implicitly, that my running career was over.  Yet, I'm still running!

I don't put this down to a tolerance of pain, or to single-minded determination.  I suspect that most people my age, if they had their knees or lower back scanned, would get a scary picture.  However, I believe that our bodies adapt, we consciously and subconsciously change our gait, and we take more care in situations likely to aggravate the injury.  Pain is still present, but we know what it means and how to manage it.

I toyed with the idea of walking instead of running this morning, and also thought about removing the new insoles to see if that made a difference to my niggles.  However, in the end, I decided an easy 5km wearing the insoles was the best course.  My thinking is that my body needs time to adapt to the insoles and gentle running is likely to aid that process.  There were lots of twinges in the first kilometre, but none crippling, and I persevered.

I remain keen to ditch the insoles as soon as I can and get back to the running form I'm confident my knee can handle.