Getting to know your injury

Looking north from Crackneck during yesterday's run

All regular runners, or at least those past the age of 40, have those injuries which are "old friends".  They may be there all of the time, or only occasionally, but the symptoms have become very familiar and you have learnt what can be tolerated and what is becoming serious.

In my case, I have a right knee, right heel and lower back problems that have been with me for many years.  The knee and heel hurt most days when walking or running (or even when typing this), while the lower back problem comes and goes.

Looking south from Cromarty Hill during yesterday's run

I now have a right calf problem (strange how it's all in the same leg......not!), that I'm learning how to manage.  In the last week, I have stepped up my mileage after resting the calf strain for a couple of weeks.  Since my blog post two days ago, I ran 22km yesterday (a bit of a struggle over the last 5km in very humid conditions) and a 12km today (relatively quick), conscious of calf stiffness, but without it affecting my gait in any discernible way.  Yet, while treating myself to the new Star Wars movie earlier today, there was spasmodic sharp pain in the lower calf while sitting, so there's something going on.

I'll keep running the higher mileage so long as the calf pain doesn't get worse, but I have a feeling that it's going to be around for a while.  Not long enough to become an "old friend", I hope.

Grand Canyon...again

Early morning light as the descent begins

When travelling in the US in June of this year, I had yet another opportunity to run to the bottom of the Grand Canyon and return - my third time.  I feel very lucky, as an Australian living on the other side of the world, to have had so many chances to run in such a spectacular environment.

Reaching the Colorado River

The two previous times, I have visited the Canyon in the depths of winter and have had to deal with snow and ice at the higher elevations, but this time I was there in the early summer and had to deal with high temperatures.  (I heard later that a Japanese tourist had died from heat exhaustion on the same trail the previous day.)

Encountering a mule train on the ascent

Knowing it was going to be hot, I left just before dawn to jog the 3km to the Bright Angel Trailhead, and began my descent in the early light.  It's hard to describe how spectacular the scenery is.  There are overlapping canyon walls receding into the far distance, all becoming more luminescent as the sun rises.  Far below, the Colorado River runs out of sight in the seemingly bottomless canyon.  Of course, you can't run looking at the scenery because one misstep could send you over one of the sheer drops ever present to one side or the other as the trail switch-backs down into the abyss.  Instead, I stopped briefly and frequently to take it all in.

Halfway up the South Kaibab Trail

It wasn't cool, and by the time I reached the river 16km and just over two hours into the run, it was starting to get warm.  A few kilometres later after crossing the river on a high suspension bridge, I refilled my Camelbak with water at the small "ranch" there catering for campers and overnight lodgers, recrossed the river on another bridge and began what I knew would be a tough climb up the South Kaibab Trail.  I was hoping to run as much as possible, but as it got warmer I found it harder and my pace slowed.  There was very little running going on by the time I got to the top in hot conditions and the flattish 3km along the rim back to our motel room was a real grind.  My time was 5:50, a little faster than the last time I ran, but a lot slower than the first.

A spectator at the top of the climb

One day, I hope to run from "rim to rim" which will take some organisation, since the road distance between the two is 340km, though I did notice that there is a daily bus between the two in summer.....hmmmm!

I joined my regular Tuesday morning Trotters friends for their usual hilly course this morning.  I warmed up first with a few kilometres and felt very lethargic, but gradually got going.  I ran alright, but could feel my legs tying up on the hill climbs with fatigue from Sunday.  Otherwise, no apparent harm done by Sunday's run.

Hornsby to Brooklyn

My trail running club-mates on their way to Hornsby

The trail run from Hornsby to Brooklyn that I scouted two weeks ago for Terrigal Trotters was on yesterday morning.  As we travelled by train to the start at Hornsby, having car-pooled to Brooklyn, I wasn't feeling that fresh and wondered about the wisdom of my third 42km tough trail run in fifteen days.  On the plus side, I had already determined that I would be tapering, and hopefully freshening up, over the next two weeks before having a crack at the Central Coast Half Marathon.  On the negative side, I had a number of niggles - lower back, quads, right heel - that could all turn into something more serious when I was running tired and long.

The first creek crossing proved a challenge

If I didn't feel an obligation to participate in an event I had organised, maybe I wouldn't have run, but the camaraderie on the train revived my spirits.  It had rained all night and most of the previous day, and more rain was forecast, but miraculously it had stopped as we set out on the run north along The Great North Walk.  Only a few kilometres into the run we encountered a flooded creek which took time and care to cross and we wondered what other challenges we would meet but the rest of the run turned out fairly routine.  Somehow, I ended up running on my own pretty much the whole way, with a faster group of five ahead of me and a slower group of four some way behind.  It was probably for the best, since I would have run harder as part of the leading group and perhaps risked injury.  Running on my own, I did things at my own comfortable pace, though still became very tired over the last third of the course.  The climbs were relentless, often involving huge step-ups, and the descents never allowed you to relax.  The more tired I became the more reluctant I was to trust my leg muscles on the very technical trails.

I finished, tired and sore, particularly my suspect right heel, in 7:45.  This was a disappointingly slow time, but still 1:40 faster than two weeks ago.  The real test of any damage came today when I walked an easy 5km.  My heel was stiff and painful, but I think it will come good by tomorrow, and my legs and back are aching.  However, nothing seems bad enough to change my training plan which now involves a steady taper to the half marathon in two weeks.

The North Face 50km Ontario

Blue Mountain Resort

One reason I have confidence my difficult time on last Sunday's long run was due to dehydration is that I fairly comfortably completed a 50km trail race in Canada in July in extremely warm conditions.

It was already close to 80⁰F by the 7:00am start of The North Face Endurance 50km trail race at the Blue Mountain ski resort and the temperature was close to 100⁰F by the early afternoon when I finished.  The course seemed to endlessly go up and down the escarpment using the rough grassy ski slopes themselves, along with very technical winding single track that prevented the gain of any running momentum.  However, to be fair, there was also some easier flatter single track and roads on top of the escarpment where you could maintain a good pace.

One of the early climbs

Unlike the Australian North Face events, there was no requirement to carry specific equipment and there were drink stations every 5-8km.  I will always run without a pack if I can and decided to take the risk of travelling without carrying fluids.  However, conscious of the weather forecast, I knew it would be important to drink early and frequently during the run.  From the first drink station I was emptying multiple cups of drink as well as pouring water over my head.  For the last half of the race, the routine was to drink a cup of electrolyte, a cup of water, and a cup of Coke, as well as dousing myself and the system worked well.

After my usual slowish start, I moved steadily through the field for almost the entire race and finished strongly in 6:33:03 for 24th place out of 133 finishers.  I could only have done this through managing my hydration well in the trying conditions and need to remember that for future events.

I ran a steady 15km on the roads this morning and was disappointed to have my right heel hurting spasmodically.  The pain was generally tolerable, but it has caused me to postpone for another day the decision about whether to race a trail marathon on Sunday.

Some people never learn

Berowra Creek

After little sleep (got up at 2:45am to watch the Rugby World Cup final), I left home at 5:30am and drove 45 minutes to Brooklyn station and caught a 6:34am train to Hornsby where I started running soon after 7:00am.

I was planning to run the 42km along the Great North Walk trail back to Brooklyn to check it out before the Trotters trail run I am organising along the same course in two weeks time.  The trail has a reputation for being gnarly, with lots technical single track, and I wasn't in a hurry, so hoped to finish in six to seven hours.  It took me over nine!

Going off course at one point cost me 20-30 minutes, and I was nursing my right heel on the descents, but that doesn't explain the delay.

I have a well-earned reputation for not carry fluids when I run.  I do find I don't drink nearly as much as other runners, but know that on hot and humid days even I need to do some drinking.  I thought I was addressing the need by carrying a litre of watered-down Powerade in my new Salomon pack, knowing that water was also available at several points along the track, and maybe even a store.

Berowra Water in the background

After the first hour the temperature, which had never been cool, climbed rapidly and the sun blazed down.  The technical track was wearing me out and by half-way I was feeling very tired and had been sweating profusely the whole way.  The next section included some tough climbing and my running slowed, my right hamstring threatened to cramp and I drank what fluid I had, dreaming of a store and cold Coke and Powerade when I crossed the highway at Cowan, the 30km mark.  Alas, no store; just a water bubbler on the railway station that issued a trickle.

Jerusalem Bay

At this point, I had the option of catching a train to Brooklyn and bypassing the last 13km of trail.  However, this seemed like a cop-out, so I drank as much as I could of the tepid water and took a litre with me.  I suspected there was going to be a lot of walking in the last section, and I was right.  After the descent to the scenic Jerusalem Bay, I got to the point where I couldn't really trust my legs any more on descents, nor did they seem to have the strength to climb the rugged hills.  My neck and right shoulder were aching and I was not in a good place.  I could feel I was badly dehydrated, and cursed myself for not preparing for the forecast conditions.  Based on how well I performed in a very hot 50km trail race in Canada a few months ago, I knew that if I had kept drinking today, I would have been travelling faster and with less problems.  Apart from some shuffling here and there, I pretty much walked the whole of the last 13km, and even found that very tough.

I was a happy man when I got back to my car, though unhappy that it had taken me all day.  The right heel that has been bothering me, was sore, but it always is at this distance these days.  I'm hopeful that I haven't made it worse.  Next time it's hot, more fluids!

West Yellowstone

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

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

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

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

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

Looking towards Idaho from the trail.

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

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

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

Just plain good fun

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Canberra

Sunrise over Canberra from Red Hill.

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

The trail atop Red Hill.

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

Canberra suburbs from Red Hill.

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

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

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

Hattah Lakes

Hattah-Kulkyne National Park.

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

Hattah-Kulkyne National Park.

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

Hattah-Kulkyne National Park.

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

Hyde Park

Hyde Park, London.

In October 1987, I started a new job, the first day of which saw my family and I on a plane to London from Melbourne.  Temporarily, my new company rented accommodation in South Kensington where we lived for three months, our five-month old baby sleeping on a small mattress behind the sofa in the tiny apartment.

We were close to Hyde Park, and my morning run became a double circuit of the historic park.  It was an interesting time to arrive in England, just two weeks after the Great Storm of 1987, which felled an estimated 15 million trees across the country.  Hyde Park had suffered greatly and walking around the park the weekend after our arrival, was both awe-inspiring, to see what nature was capable of, and saddening, to see so many gracious old trees upended.

Broad Walk, Hyde Park.

Fortunately for my running, the main paths were soon cleared, especially since it was winter and my morning runs were in darkness.  There was some lighting in the park, but not very much, and generally I just had to trust that if I stayed in the middle of the path, I wouldn't encounter any obstacles.  Occasionally, I would meet a runner or walker coming the other way, and a couple of times last-second evasive action had to be taken.  It was in the era before headlamps, and I never carried lights, or worried about light-coloured clothing.

As you would expect in a London winter, there were plenty of cold, foggy and/or drizzly, mornings but strangely they are the ones for which I'm most nostalgic.  That weather, darkness, London, and running, are inextricably linked in my memory.

Hyde Park at night.

The 14km course was relatively flat, and at the time I was quite fit, so usually ran it in around one hour.  The run to the Park along the broad Exhibition Road, passed between the historic Natural History and Victoria & Albert Museums.  It was very gradually uphill, and that always helped me warm up.  By the time I got to Hyde Park, I was rolling and always worked hard on the gradual climb up Broad Walk to Kensington Palace, and then, after cruising along the northern side parallel to Bayswater Road to Speakers Corner, would stretch out down the eastern edge of the Park next to Park Lane.  Occasionally, I would see horse guards exercising on South Carriage Drive in the early light before turning out of the Park and heading home.  In later years, when I no longer lived in the UK, I would always try and get in one run around Hyde Park whenever visiting London for work.

After yesterday's exertion, I walked an easy 5km today.  My right Achilles tendon is still sore, but I'm hopeful it will have improved enough to run tomorrow.

Capitol Reef

Capitol Reef National Park.

A place I would like to revisit for some longer trail runs is Capitol Reef National Park in Utah.  When we camped there in January, 1986, in the middle of winter, we had the place to ourselves.  It was so cold, the National Parks Service wasn't even bothering to collect fees.  We were running the Las Vegas Marathon a few days later, so were in the taper phase and I limited myself to a 10.5 mile circuit from the deserted campground.  It was, however, a memorable run to this day.

The view from the Frying Pan Trail.

I set out soon after 8am on a clear morning in sub-freezing temperatures, but soon warmed up on the Cohab Canyon Trail which zig-zagged up 100m in the first 500m, and then continued climbing to the Frying Pan Trail and the rocky heights at nearly 2000m altitude.  The views across the rocky, canyon-laced, plateau in the clear cold air were fantastic.  In many places I was more or less running cross country on rock slabs, soaking up the vistas, and savouring that feeling of being the only person on earth in this superb country.

The Grand Wash Trail.

After about 7km I joined the sandy Grand Wash Trail which followed a dry creek bed at the bottom of a sometimes narrow canyon, dominated by towering rocky walls.  Around 10km, I joined a park road in the Fremont River valley and followed that back to near the campground before rejoining the Cohab Canyon Trail for a short sharp climb over a knoll and back down to the campground.  It was only 10.5 miles, but because I was in the taper phase, I was feeling fresh and strong and that may explain why the run lives in my memory as such an enjoyable experience.

Cohab Canyon.

There are longer trails in Capitol Reef National Park and I look forward to returning there one day to check them out.

For today, I ran 10km, and although I laboured early until my Achilles tendon warmed up, I felt stronger than expected two days after a long trail run.  My time was quickish for this regular garbage run, despite getting struggling a bit on the climb up Avoca steps near the end, so I was happy.

A long but good day

Setting out from Congewai.

Yesterday's Terrigal Trotters run along a section of The Great North Walk explains a lot about why I enjoy trail running.  It was a day that highlighted all of the positive aspects.

Firstly, there were the ominous weather forecasts for cold wet and windy conditions for the 33km run from Congewai to Cedar Brush.  None of the thirty-five booked runners cancelled because of the adverse forecast and there was keen anticipation of battling the elements on the bus as we drove the ninety minutes to the Congewai trackhead.  However, the bad weather was clearing by the time we started running and we ended up enjoyed the best running conditions imaginable - cool, breezy on the higher ridges, low humidity, and sun-dappled tranquil rainforest glens.  It was a pleasure to be alive as we made our way southwards.

Running the forest trails.

The runners each ran their own run, with some choosing to see how fast they could go, others just cruising along with friends, and some taking it easy and stopping for photographs and views.  Trail-running, better than most sports, offers the chance to do your own thing, sharing the joys with others, but not having to do it the same way.

Adventures are almost guaranteed, whether it's missing a turn, taking a tumble, or encountering a snake, and we had all of those yesterday, some more dramatic than others, but all when least expected.  The adventure was compounded by the remoteness, and the lack of mobile phone coverage at the Cedar Brush trackhead meant we were left guessing about the fate of runners who failed to arrive as expected.  Anxiety was replaced with relief and mirth when the runners were found and their misadventures recounted.  The range of emotions experienced during trail running explains much of its appeal.

Traversing Watagan Creek
valley.

Finally, we all enjoyed the post-run camaraderie, lounging in the sun in a beautiful little valley, eating and drinking, analysing and discussing our respective adventures, and cheering each runner as they finished.  It may have been a long day, but it was a good day.

Post-run relaxation.

My own run went fine, not that much slower than last year's time on the same course, and very comfortable. My only real problems were the chronic right knee and Achilles tendon injuries that were giving me quite a lot of pain by the end.  I think trail running exacerbates these injuries, but I'm more than willing to accept the trade-off.

For today, I walked an easy 5km around Copa, and didn't feel too tired or stiff, apart from the tendon still being a little painful.  I'm already looking forward to our next Club trail run in three weeks time.

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.

Reliving Boston 1982

I walked 5km today to give me aching joints a chance to recover after yesterday's exertions.  My right Achilles remains quite sore and concerns me a little, but hopefully the day off running will see it improved tomorrow.

The results of this year's Boston Marathon were on the news this morning, reviving memories of the two times I have competed there (1982 and 1986).  Although I have previously written blog posts about the 1982 race, I thought I would use the occasion to reprint an article I wrote for my club, Kew Camberwell, newsletter after the event.
======================================================================
BOSTON MARATHON - 1982

Crossing the line (2:22, 49th) in the
1982 Boston Marathon.

Early in February I received a telephone call from Ted Paulin at the 'Big M' Marathon Committee.  Apparently Andy Lloyd, winner of the 1981 'Big M' had declined his first prize of a trip to the 1982 Boston Marathon and as runner-up I was next in line.  Having had an Achilles operation in late November with little training since and none in the preceding three weeks I had some doubts as to whether the eleven weeks remaining to the ‘Boston' (19 April 1982) would be sufficient to get at least reasonably fit.  My surgeon gave me the green light so I mapped out a training schedule which saw me go from 0 to 120 miles per week in four weeks and totalling 1224 miles over the eleven weeks.

I took a few extra days leave and spent five days with clubmate, John, and his wife, Brenda, in California en route.  They were very interested to hear all the club news and send their regards to all their old friends.  Despite some injury problems, John is training and has recently started competing in a few fun runs.  They are living in a house in the Santa Cruz Mountains, an area not unlike the Dandenongs, where it seems to rain all the time.  In the first three months of this year they had 89" of rain (Melbourne has 26" per year) and roads were closed, rivers flooded, and landslides commonplace.  If rain wasn’t enough, John took me on some very muddy tracks and in three days I had used my entire supply of clean running gear.

The Prudential Center basement carpark
after the 1982 Boston Marathon.

From California I flew to Boston arriving four days before the race with the first vestiges of a heavy cold - the product of sunny California.  For four days I trained lightly twice daily, tried to fight off the worsening cold, watched television and attempted to read all the articles published in the press about the forthcoming marathon.  The coverage was of ‘VFL Grand Final’ proportions culminating in direct television coverage of the entire race by four different television stations.

Race day, a public holiday Monday, dawned bright and sunny and I set off by train to the Prudential Center in town from where a steady stream of buses was transporting runners to the start at Hopkinton, 26 miles away to the west.

Winner, Alberto Salazar, speaking at the medal presentation
after the 1982 Boston Marathon.

The atmosphere in Hopkinton was electric.  All roads leading into the town had been blocked by the police at 9 a.m. - 3 hours before the start - and the only motorised traffic was the buses delivering their cargoes of 'psyched-up', animated athletes.  In the town centre you could hardly move for runners and spectators whilst overhead circled four helicopters and four light planes beaming television pictures to the entire U.S.A. There were 7623 official entrants for the race plus an estimated equal number of unofficial runners (entrants must meet stiff qualifying standards before being accepted) on the narrow road for the start at midday.

The first 800 metres is steadily downhill and everyone sets off at a furious pace.  Despite holding myself back and despite it taking me 10-15 seconds to get past the starting line I still reached the first mile in 5:05.  I had resolved to run the first half of the race steadily because of the question mark over my fitness but this proved impossible.  I was literally passed by scores of runners yet went through 5 kilometres in 15:50.  It was very warm with the temperature in the low 20’s complemented by a bright sun and a slight following wind.  By 10 kilometres (32:00) I was holding my own but getting decidedly warm.  The course was lined by thousands of spectators who cheered, clapped and held out cups of water to the competitors.  For the first few miles the course passes through a series of villages which is where the crowds are at their thickest until the suburb of Wellesley is reached after eleven miles.  Here crowd support reaches new undreamt of dimensions as the runners pass the Wellesley College for women.  The girls leave a gap about one to two metres wide for the runners to pass through and scream.  If you can imagine what it is like to run quickly down a hallway lined with giant stereo speakers you may be getting close.  You start to lose touch with reality.  Unfortunately, reality just around the corner as I had feared when passing through 10 miles in 52:07.  My next seven miles were miserable as various ailments assailed me and the crowds witnessing my demise grew thicker and thicker.  By now every inch of the course was covered by onlookers often three or four deep and usually only a couple of metres apart.  At 17 miles I heard a time which indicated that at my present rate of decline I would run 2:25 or over and also that I was in approximately 130th place.

Showing off my "First Hundred" finishers
medal after the 1982 Boston Marathon.

My big ambition, apart from beating Greta Waitz, was to run in the first hundred and earn a medal.  The course now entered the Newton Hills, a series of four hills climaxing in the world-renowned Heartbreak Hill at 21 miles.  For some reason my pace began to pick up and I actually began passing people.  The heat was taking its toll and a lot at fast starters were now paying their dues.  The crowds on Heartbreak Hill were unprecedented and the noise indescribable.  To pass a runner was often difficult because of the narrow path left by the spectators who were reaching out to touch you and give you much needed cups of water.  I was really starting to motor now and set out to run the last five miles hard.  Coming down from the hills on the winding course the closeness of the crowd often meant that a runner only five metres in front of you could not be seen.  Thousands of people crowded around the last 400 metres and I found the energy to catch a few more competitors before crossing the line in 2:22:39.  My relief at the time turned to joy upon receiving a note congratulating me on being in the first hundred.  It took some hours to find out I had come 49th.

All finishers were directed into the cavernous basement car park of the Prudential Center where they could collect gear left at Hopkinton, get refreshments, have a shower and receive medical attention if necessary.  The warm conditions resulted in a lot of stretcher cases (about 600) and the underground hospital resembled a scene from the Crimean War.  The winner, Alberto Salazar, received intravenously three litres of fluid after his temperature had dropped to 88°F following the race.

Two old Kew-Camberwellians also competed in this year’s race – Trevor and Kishore – but, unfortunately, I do not have their results.

I cannot hope in this article to convey the atmosphere and excitement present at Boston. However, I do encourage all distance runners to take part in this unique event at least once for an unforgettable experience.

Bogong to Hotham

Some fellow runners at the summit of Mount Bogong
early in the 2005 Bogong to Hotham race.

The Bogong to Hotham trail race has a history dating back to 1984, and in relative terms, I am a newcomer, having run it for the first time in 2005.  However, as discussed in other posts, I have run numerous times on the Bogong High Plains and feel a special affinity for the race, especially now the Race Director is Andy Hewat, an ultrarunner and friend for whom I have great respect.  He stepped in to revive the iconic race when it was in some trouble a few years ago and it has prospered with him at the helm.

Mount Bogong (1986m) is the highest mountain in Victoria and Mount Hotham (1864m) lies at the opposite (southern) end of the Bogong High Plains making it an attractive challenge to run, or ski, between them.  An early skier, Charles Derrick, died of exposure in 1965 while trying to ski between the two when caught in a blizzard, adding to the legend of the course.

Most of the finishers of the 2005 Bogong to Hotham race.

There are several aspects of the race which I find hard to resist.  The first, as mentioned, is the history I have with the area, having hiked and run there since the early 1970s.  Many of the trails and mountains are evocative of past trips, runs and friends, dating from the times when we were young, fit and carefree.

The course is challenging in terms of both topography and meteorology.  You can get very tired very quickly on the precipitous climbs and endless tussocky plains, and the weather can be intimidating and debilitating.  However, the snow gum forests, alpine grasslands and the roaring Big River, have a remote wilderness feel to them, with brumbies plentiful and the views spectacular.

Nowadays, perhaps the most appealing aspect to me that it is a race for serious runners.  There is a cut-off point at Langfords Gap, 35km into the 64km race, of six hours.  This may seem easy, but it is not unless you are a good trail runner.  It has always been a challenge for me and I have just made it on two occasions and would have missed it on a third but for the race being cancelled because of diabolical weather.  No runners were allowed to proceed beyond Langford Gap and I was saved embarrassment.  There are other cut-offs, but this is the one that counts.

During the weather-shortened 2012
Bogong to Hotham race.

The run actually starts at the base of Mount Bogong, so it must initially be climbed along the almost completely runnable Staircase Spur before setting out for Hotham.  Being someone who fancies himself as a hill runner, I have usually gone out too hard and run as much of the climb as I can.  Thereafter comes a technical run along an exposed ridge before a steep descent through forest to the Big River Crossing which must be waded, sometimes necessarily hanging onto a wire cable for safety.  The steep switch-backing climb from Big River up Duane Spur to the treeline has often been my nemesis.  On several occasions I have reached the top too tired to pick up the pace along the relatively easy firetrail across the open High Plains and nearly missed the Langfords cut-off.

There is a different challenge after Langfords when you encounter a narrow tussocky trail for many kilometres, marked every forty metres by numbered snow poles.  It is barely a shoe-width wide and exhausting to try and land on the path with every step.  When you stray off, as you must, the risk of sprained ankles and strained muscles on the rough tussocks increases exponentially, exacerbating fatigue.  Compounding your misery can be the snow pole numbers, decreasing ever so slowly (No. 1 is near the Hotham summit), and reminding you of how far you still have to go.

During the weather-shortened 2912
Bogong to Hotham race.

There is a final helter skelter technical descent to cross the Cobungra River, this time on a footbridge, before a crushing ascent up Swindlers Spur, little of which I have ever run.  From the top of this climb, Mount Hotham seems tantalisingly close, but it's very deceptive and must be reached via a semi-circular route before a last climb to the summit cairn and the finish.  Usually it's very cold there and the joy of finishing is quickly replaced by the need to find warm clothing and shelter.

A final challenge can be the bus ride down the long switch-backed road from Mount Hotham during which the gastrointestinal fortitude of many runners, including myself, have been tested.

Today, I just ran a very easy 10km, recovering from yesterday's harder run and resting up for a trail run tomorrow.

Returning to the scene

Crossing Mangrove Creek early in
today's run.

Perhaps irrationally, I was a little anxious about today's long run because it involved returning, for the first time, to the place where I think my serious health problems - Deep Vein Thrombosis (DVT), Pulmonary Embolism (PE), Atrial Flutter (AFl) - began sixteen weeks ago.  I was running the 25km version of the Dubbo Gully loop today, not the 30km version of that day, but the weather promised to be humid again.

Dubbo Gully.

The first thing I did was make sure that I was well-hydrated before the run and that I had another sports drink waiting for me when I finished.  My best theory is, that back in December, I completed the run dehydrated and didn't drink much afterwards before having a post-run nap.  Vein damage from my chronic right knee injury, exacerbated by dehydration and low blood pressure, caused clotting (DVT) some of which ultimately found its way to my lungs causing a PE.  The lungs lost function and placed excessive pressure on my heart, generating debilitating AFl over the subsequent week.  You've heard it all before, if you are a reader of this blog.

Dubbo Gully wetlands.

Anyway, despite taking the extra precautions, I remained somewhat anxious.  The run, with Sharon and some friends, started slowly down a very long descent, and I hung back, still a little stiff and sore from yesterday's run and not wanting to strain.  I never pushed the pace, but after warming up, gradually drew away from the others on the long climbs later on the run.  Despite sweating a lot and working hard, so far as I could tell, my heart continued to beat regularly.  Both knees hurt, particularly down hills, and I cursed the extra three to four kilograms I'm carrying - so easy to put it on and so hard to get it off.  I feel sure, that without the extra weight, I would be running faster with less knee pain.  Hopefully time will tell.

Almost finished.

The course finished with a steady 3km climb, which is always tough, but pleasingly I managed to run the whole way.  My time of 2:43 was slow compared to the 2:58 run in December for the 30km version, but not that bad.  I drank and kept moving after the run and don't feel like I have damaged myself in any way.  It gives me increased confidence that the bad times are behind me and I'm looking forward to my next Dubbo Gully run.