Familiar companions

As you get older, you get used to running with
 chronic injuries.  Nearing the finish of the
1991 Watford (UK) Half Marathon (~75mins)

After an "easy" day yesterday, I wanted to run a bit further this morning.  I'm still coming back from the right arch injury and my goal is to be back in full training by the end of August.  However, because the injury is still present to a degree, I'm reluctant to adopt my usual "get fit quick" plan of long runs every three or four days.  Instead, I'm alternating easy runs with "longish" runs and gradually increasing the distance.

So, despite feeling slow and unfit, I set out on a 16.5 km loop from The Haven after the Thursday morning track session.  I felt I was barely making forward progress up the first steep hills on the Scenic Highway, and my right leg was a bit of a basket case, with the knee, arch and Achilles tendon, all painful.  As it flattened out and I covered more distance, I began moving more freely, but the right leg problems remained extant.  It was never an easy run, and the hills were particularly tough, but my time of 1:26 was just a couple of minutes slower than last time I ran the same course two months ago.

A non-athlete might ask why anyone would not only continue to run, but increase their mileage, when they are carrying injuries.  I say non-athlete, because most sports people, and especially those past their prime, frequently train and compete while carrying injuries.  Often these injuries are as familiar as old friends, or maybe companions is a better word.

I don't enjoy the pain I get from my right knee and Achilles tendon, but they are well known to me and I don't expect them to stop me running, though accept it will happen some time.  My recent right arch injury is beginning to enter the same category.  For the last few weeks, the pain is always there, some times worse than others, but I now have enough experience of the injury to know that I can back up and run the next day without it getting worse.  The pain is becoming familiar and manageable.  It's more tolerable because I have less fear that it will become worse, or affect my running form enough to cause compensatory injuries.  The injuries are most likely connected, and my optimistic view is that my body will gradually adapt and the pain will diminish.

It would be nice to run injury-free, and I know there will be occasional purple patches ahead of me when everything is functioning well, but more often than not there will be some pain while running.  I judge the benefit from continuing to run as far outweighing the costs.  The pain generally stops, or is vastly reduced, when I stop running and I then enjoy the health benefits and sense of well-being that accompanies fitness.

Ridgetops Tour

Northern Flinders Ranges

All body parts seemed to be creaking when I rose this morning, and my bad knee had been painful at times during the night.  Such is the price of a longish (barely) run, up and down steep hills and along trails, when old and unfit.  I knew that this morning's "easy" 10km would not be very easy, and that proved to be the case.  The further I went, the looser my limbs became, but I was slow and my knee hurt.  Despite all that, and a slow time for my regular 10km, my mood was good.  Providing I don't slip back into injury, I can sense that I'm getting fitter and I know that the aches and pains will diminish in the next week or so if I soldier on.

In the absence of other news, I thought I would include another anecdote from my running past.  This one tells the tale of a long run during a camping trip to the Arkaroola section of the northern Flinders Ranges with another couple in the early 1980s.   See the St Mary's Peak post for the story of another run on an earlier vacation.  Below is an edited version of the story submitted to the Kew-Camberwell newsletter about the run.

_______________________________________

THE RIDGETOPS TOUR

The Ridgetops Tour trail

For those who haven't had the pleasure of travelling the Ridgetops Tour, a comparison of it with the Luna Park Scenic Railway is justified.  Pratty and I decided to run the length of the track and then to push on for another four or five miles along a disused, impassable trail to Paralana Hot Springs where we were to be met by our wives who were going to drive there via another route. We estimated the total distance to be about 20 miles (32km) and set off early to avoid the heat of the day after trying to memorise the wall map we had seen.  The track wasn't open to the public and the only access was via commercial tours, so there were no maps available and we were not sure we were even allowed to go there.

It is true that I wasn't at peak fitness for this little exploit, but I feel that I should point out that the reason I started to fall behind on the precipitous hills at an early stage in the run had more to do with the large hole which opened in the sole of my left shoe and continually filled with sand and gravel than Pratty's scintillating pace.

The northern turn-around point for the Ridgetops Tour
(we continued down the track at the bottom of the photo)

After ninety minutes, we were caught by that day's organised Land Rover tour.  The tourists expressed some amazement at our stupidity, but nevertheless, gave us some liquids, which were rather scarce (actually non-existent) in this part of the world.  Amongst the tourists, there were, almost inevitably, people who Pratty knew (he always meets people he knows in the strangest places).  The fact that they were schoolgirls was never explained to my satisfaction.

After two and a half hours, we reached the turnaround point for the tour at about the same time as the Land Rover (which had made some detours) and, after another beggared drink (it was now quite hot and the tourists were beginning to regret the drinks they had given us earlier), and next-to-useless guidance from the tour driver as to the direction we were to take to get to Paralana Hot Springs, we set off in the general direction of Cape York down a boulder-strewn trail.

I don't remember a lot about this last five miles, apart from heat, glare, thirst and circling birds of carrion as we pushed slowly on along dry river beds and across rocky clearings.  I do recall that Pratty was no longer pushing the pace.

To everybody's considerable surprise (including my own), we arrived at the Springs more or less on schedule and without getting lost.  Training was light for the next few days.

Getting out the door

The Bouddi Coastal Path

The day didn't start too well.  I was still processing Great North Walk 100s entries after midnight and didn't finish and get to bed until 1:30am.  After sleeping in to 8:00am, I woke to discover I had made an error in the payment details emailed to successful entrants and needed to send out a correction, and deal with emails and calls from those who had already tried to pay.  Ultra-runners are a friendly bunch, and fortunately everybody was understanding about my stuff-up.

Feeling a bit under the weather after such a long day yesterday and the late start and problems of this morning, I wasn't enthused by the thought of a late morning run, especially a longer one as planned.  Nevertheless, around 11:00am, on a beautiful warm and sunny day, I dragged myself out the door and set off for an easy 22km run following a course that gave multiple options for short-cuts if I felt bad, or my right arch was hurting too much.

Just a small section of the Maitland
Bay steps

The course incorporated some quiet roads and trails, much of it in the nearby Bouddi National Park.  As discussed in an earlier post, Small Explorations, I find that choosing a course with some interest is a good way of dealing with the "I really don't want to go for a run" problem.  My chosen route incorporated some stiff climbs, including the stairs up from Maitland Bay, but I took it slowly, enjoying the weather and stopping briefly a couple of times to take in the views (and once to help some tourists).  Some new blisters had developed during the City to Surf run on Sunday, a product of the new orthotic insoles I was wearing, so for today I reverted to the original insoles supplied with the shoes.  I was conscious of some occasional pain in my right arch, but it wasn't serious and I finished the run thinking that I will now stick with these insoles.

I finished tired and sweaty, with aching legs, but know this is what I need - some long steady runs that will help me regain the form I was enjoying a couple of months ago.  We have a 42km Terrigal Trotters trail run scheduled for Sunday, and this morning's run gives me confidence I'll be able to go the distance.  The wisdom of going for the run, even though I really didn't want to, was confirmed.

In my opinion, this is one of the testing times for all serious runners.  That is, forcing yourself to go for training runs when you really, really, don't want to.  It's worth persevering.  Not only do you get a training benefit from the run in question, but the experience goes into your psychological "bank".  That is, you gain self-confidence and self-respect by knowing that you can make yourself do things that other runners would not, and it becomes easier to get out for a run the next time it seems too much trouble.

Today's run finished around the edges of Cockrone Lagoon

I can recall a particular training run, sometime in the late 1970s, when I was working full-time and doing my Masters part-time.  It was a miserable wet and dark winter's Wednesday evening.  A tutorial at the University after work meant I didn't get home until about 7:30pm.  My training program (I was running over 200km per week) called for a 35km road run that evening.  Though hungry and desperate to have the night off running, I forced myself out the door and set off through the Melbourne suburbs, a lonely figure splashing along the dark footpaths.  Somewhere in the middle of that run, when I was passing through an industrial area in light drizzle, the thought suddenly came to me that few, if any, other runners in Australia would have been willing to do this run.  The thought buoyed me for the rest of the run.  I realised that I may not have the talent of some of my fellow marathon competitors, but I was sure none of them was training harder.

This is an exaggeration, of course.  There are many athletes, not all of them "elite", who force themselves to go out on training runs when they would rather be doing something else.  They will know what I'm talking about.

Day off

Delivering the pre-race briefing before the 2012 Great
North Walk 100s trail races

I never did manage to get out for a run or walk today, but I doubt that has done me any harm, given that I was stiff and sore last night after the City to Surf.  My right arch has been occasionally painful, but it's hard to know whether it is any worse for the weekend's running.
I was planning an easy day anyway, but the opening at 6:00am of entries for the Great North Walk 100s (GNW100s) trail races, for which I'm the Race Director, left me with a lot of processing and a reason to stay at my desk. 

What was already going to be a busy day, wasn't helped by a power cut in late afternoon, and I still have many entries to review as I update this blog.  Of course, we could pay for online entry processing, but given the small size of the field we'll accept (200 entries), the cost per entry is excessive.  Additionally, the extreme nature of the event, I like to try and review the entry qualifications of each applicant before accepting them.

The event is a labour of love, so I don't mind the extra work.  This will be the 9th running, and although there are times I regret ever having started it, I generally think it has been a worthwhile project for my retirement.  The relish the participants show for the challenge and the enthusiasm with which my Terrigal Trotters clubmates support the event is very rewarding.

While I was working full-time, I seldom had the time to help at community or sporting events.  Now I'm retired, I have the opportunity to make up for those years, and I'm lucky enough to have a number of running-related activities that I enjoy helping, including organising the GNW100s.

City to Surf

Waiting for the City to Surf start
  

It was a good day, and a frustrating day.  I journeyed into Sydney this morning for the annual 14km City to Surf Fun Run with my fellow Terrigal Trotters in a convoy of two minibuses after a 5:00am pick-up.  We had a very enjoyable day, along with 85,000 others, in excellent Sydney winter weather - cool to start, but sunny and warm by mid-morning.

Most of my club-mates ran very well, exceeding or meeting their goal times, and I was pleased for them.  It's not an easy race, and you have to prepare well and hang in there, to get a good time.  I don't think I did either particularly well.  Of course, I've only been back running for two weeks and only done any significant training this week, so I can rationalise my 63:03 time (4:30 mins/km) as about right for my fitness.  However, I didn't enjoy it.  From the start, where we stood around for over an hour in the cool morning air, I did not feel like I was travelling well.  My sore right arch hurt a bit, and my running form was poor, maybe partly due to the tempo run yesterday that left me a little stiff and sore.

Heading through the tunnel

I steadily lost ground to those around me early on, and kept telling myself that once I warmed up I would catch them on the hills later.  This never really happened.  I was still feeling rough up the major climb at half-way, and then just tried to relax on the run in to iconic Bondi Beach.  I never checked my watch en route, and was a little worried that my time would be slower than the 70 minutes required to qualify for the Red Start next year.  However, as it turned out, I was well inside that time, but I never threatened my usual Trotters' rivals, who all ran very well.

Bondi Beach

I don't think there's any way of avoiding these tough comeback runs, really.  You somehow have to get from doing nothing to good form and somewhere between the two are going to be some runs where you feel frustrated and unfit.  I just have to keep my eye on the main goal and not stress about these runs.

Some long easy runs would help me get fit more quickly, but I'm worried that my arch injury is still causing some pain and it might be unwise to test it further at the moment.  I will have an easy day tomorrow and then decide what is wise training for the balance of the week.

Fun Runs

I preferred the smaller Fun Runs with uncrowded
starts and a good chance of prizes and/or glory

Tomorrow is the annual City to Surf 14km Fun Run and there are more than thirty Trotters making the journey to join 85,000 other runners for the run from Sydney to Bondi Beach.  I entered some time ago, before I injured my arch, and a few weeks ago had given up on the idea of running.  However, the arch has definitely improved in the last two weeks and I will join my club-mates tomorrow.  This will be only the second time I have run City to Surf, and I never ran it whilst in my running prime.

I always considered I lacked the basic speed necessary to do well in the mass participation Fun Runs, though I did surprise myself (and a few other people) once with a third place in the 1981 13km Melbourne Exacto Team Trot (39:28).  Even with an "elite" start, and I rarely got those, you had to run very fast from the start to avoid being swamped by runners who then slowed dramatically after a few hundred metres.  Without an elite start, you had to line up for an hour or more to get a good spot on the starting line, thus ruling out any kind of a warm-up or last-minute toilet visit, neither conducive to a good performance.  Then, if you dealt with these issues and got away well at the gun, you would see "bandits" pouring out of the side streets ahead of you during the first kilometre.  Just about the last straw for me was an event (I think it was one of the old Sun Superuns that went over the Westgate Bridge in Melbourne), where I had managed to get a reasonable start then saw one of my club-mates, a better-performed 10km runner than me, appear from a side alley about 500 metres after the start and join the field about fifty metres in front of me.  I never did catch him.

I developed an aversion to the mass participation Fun Runs, though was always happy to run in the minor ones where the start wasn't a problem and there was a chance of prizes and/or glory.  A bigger fish in a smaller pond.

The City to Surf isn't high on my priority list as a runner, but it will be an enjoyable day with my club-mates, and it will be inspiring to see so many people out running on what promises to be a beautiful Sydney winter morning.  Not having any expectations about my performance, and happily resigned to taking it easy in the early kilometres, I will just cruise and be entertained.

Terrigal Trotters generally schedule an "easier" Saturday morning run when there is a big running event the next day, such as the City to Surf.  This morning's, "Marg's Meander", barely qualified as easy.  Early on there is a lung-busting hill that really blows away any cobwebs, and later in the 11.5km course, there are a few smaller hills to keep you honest.  I started gently so as not to aggravate my right arch injury and then, after the first hill, just tried to maintain a comfortable tempo pace whilst avoiding the temptation to chase the runners I could see ahead.  The latter became academic after 8km as my lack of training caught up with me.

I finished feeling very tired, unfit, coughing and out-of-breath.  About the best thing that could be said about the run was that my sore arch seemed to handle it OK.  I have had a bit of a cough the last few days, so I hope I'm just dealing with a minor cold.  On the other hand, because I associated it with a developing pattern of headaches, I stopped taking asthma medication a few weeks ago and I definitely felt I was wheezing a bit on the hills and later in the run.  Of course, it's probably just the cold and lack of fitness, but like all serious runners, there's a lot of self-analysis going on.

No Visa

Smolensk Fortress Wall

Occasionally, it's been necessary to carry my passport when out running, but there was another time I should have and didn't.

In July and August of 1975, we were on a driving and camping trip behind the Iron Curtain in Europe.  The trip had taken a lot of organising with almost all campsites, compulsory currency exchanges and visas booked many months in advance.  Another couple, Kerry and Gerry, travelling in their own vehicle, joined us for journey through the USSR.  Kerry, a runner I had met while we were both in the Army doing our National Service, and I were entered the historic Enschede Marathon in The Netherlands at the end of August so were both keen to keep training while we travelled and frequently went for a run after our day’s driving and sightseeing.

Enschede Marathon mementos

For longer runs in the USSR, this was a challenge.  Maps were difficult to obtain (the Cold War was still raging and the Soviets just didn’t publish many maps) and frequently inaccurate when we did manage to get one.  We always had trouble locating the campgrounds because the sketch maps were simply wrong and couldn’t be trusted.  Nobody spoke English, and we didn’t speak any Russian, so asking for directions was problematic.  Runners were a rarity, and we didn’t see anybody else out running during our entire time behind the Iron Curtain.  The police were ubiquitous.

Unless there was an obvious running route from the campground, we tended to retrace our steps to the main road and then run out-and-back.  We didn’t want to end up being chased by farm dogs or finding ourselves somewhere we shouldn’t be.  On this particular day, after a lot of difficulty, we found our booked campground (they were few and far between) in a rural area on the northern outskirts of Smolensk (they were always waiting to check us in, and on a couple of occasions when we were late reaching our booked campgrounds, were quite upset about our late arrival).  After setting up camp, Kerry and I set out for an evening 20km run along the main road.  It wasn’t easy running as the road shoulder was rough and rocky and the road busy with noisy fume-belching trucks, but we had little choice.  After about 8km a car swept past us at high speed, braked in a cloud of dust and executed a speedy U-turn before pulling up right in front of us.  All four doors opened in unison and four guys in civilian clothing jumped out and waved us to stop.

Enschede Marathon 30km Feeding
Station (finished 91st in 2:59)

One of them started talking to us in Russian, which we didn’t understand at all.  The more it became obvious we couldn’t understand them, the more frustrated they became.  The temperature of the interrogation rose and soon they were all shouting at us.  It was very intimidating.  The only word we could grasp was “Visa”.  Of course, we hadn’t brought our Visas or passports with us on the run and were trying to get that point across.  I spoke a little German, which is understood by some people in western Russia, but this was of no use.

As it became apparent to them that we didn’t have our Visas with us, they began arguing amongst themselves.  My interpretation was that two of them wanted to take us to the police station and the other two just wanted to go home, or wherever.  After a few minutes of arguing, the “go home” faction won and they returned to their car, executed another dusty U-turn and raced away into the distance.  Bemused, and a little shaken, Kerry and I continued our run.

My right arch was more painful when I got up this morning, after yesterday's run with just the regular shoe insoles.  Fortunately, the new orthotic insoles I had ordered online arrived yesterday and they are much more suited to running than the previous orthotic insoles, weighing 100 grams less.  I used them for an easy 10km run this morning and they seemed to do the job.  I have some niggles and my calf muscles are tight after yesterday, but I think I'll be OK to run 10km at Trotters tomorrow morning and the 14km City to Surf Fun Run on Sunday.

Orthotics or not

Representing Croydon Harriers in the UK National
League 3000m Steeple (9:43.8, 4th) in May 1975

I put my orthotic insoles into my running shoes this morning with the intention of running an 11.5 km course after the Thursday morning track session at the Terrigal Haven.  I hadn't worn them since Tuesday morning's run, and they felt uncomfortable as I walked around during the track session.

Afterwards, as usual, I returned to my parked car and stripped off to prepare for my own run.  My feet still didn't feel comfortable with the insoles, so I decided to take a chance and remove them for my run.  It was at this point I realised that I had put my orthotic insoles into my shoes without removing the original shoe insoles.  Duh!

This still left me in a quandary as to whether or not to I should run with the orthotic insoles.  My preferred long-term option is to return to the regular insoles, but as mentioned yesterday, I have short-term concerns that my sore arch still has some way to go before reaching full function.  I had managed an easy 5km yesterday, but would a harder 11.5km this morning set me back.  To a non-running reader this issue would seem trivial, or even insignificant.  But most runners can identify with the small decisions that need to be made on a daily basis with respect to shoes, socks and insoles, especially when dealing with an injury.  What works best, and what is the cost of a poor decision?

I took a calculated risk and went with the regular insoles (originally supplied with the shoes) and could immediately feel the difference.  The ground felt harder underfoot and both calf muscles were very tight.  This wasn't surprising and confirmed to me the wisdom of ditching the orthotic insoles as soon as feasible.  They are more cushioned than the regular insoles, with the advantage of softening foot impact, but I fear the extra cushioning will atrophy the foot muscles that usually take the strain.  Similarly, the orthotic insoles have a slightly higher heel and this will lead, over time, to the Achilles tendon and calf muscles shortening.  This is fine as a short- or medium-term strategy for dealing with Achilles tendon injuries, but I believe there is a cost in terms of stride length and running balance.

My arch was maybe a little more sore at the end of the run, and the run seemed very hard work, especially the two long climbs.  However, I was happier when I saw my time was just under 58 minutes.  I had set out cautiously and slowly and never felt like I was trying to run fast.  Assuming my arch doesn't become more sore in the next 24 hours, I'll have to decide whether to use the new, lighter and lower (in the arch), insoles that arrived in the mail today.

St Mary's Peak

Wilpena Pound, South Australia

One of the reasons I love running, is that it enables me to go places and see things that are not as readily accessible to other people.  This is particularly true of National Parks and other wild areas, but things don't always go smoothly.

The Flinders Ranges in South Australia has been one of my favourite places to visit and run for many years, but was also the location for one of my minor running dramas.  In May 1977, we had journeyed there with another couple, travelling in separate vehicles, and arrived in mid-afternoon and set up camp.  Inspired by the great scenery, I decided that I could squeeze in a long run before sundown and set out at 4pm to run a loop from the campground up to St Mary's Peak, and then return through Wilpena Pound, a huge natural amphitheatre.  This was advertised as a full-day 22km hike, but I left confident that I could do it in a couple of hours and looked forward to the sunset from the 1171 metre St Mary's Peak en route.

The view from St Mary's Peak

The first 3km climbed gradually, but was quite runnable along a dry bush trail with the rim of the Pound looming to my left.  But the next few kilometres climbed very steeply, and despite trying to run all but the rock-climbing bits, it was very slow going.  The sky was heavily overcast and twilight was approaching when I finally reached the ridge that edged Wilpena Pound.  Even though light was fading, I still made the one kilometre journey along the rim and up to St Mary's Peak, despite more very slow going.  I have always had trouble backing down on a plan once decided.  Some might call it stubbornness.  The sunset was everything I had hoped for.  It was exhilarating standing on the Peak, all alone, surveying the vast plains to the west and the chain of clearly defined and stratified mountains stretching away to the north.  Here and there was a twinkle of light marking a settlement of some sort.

Having enjoyed the moment, I now began to focus on the task ahead of me - getting back to camp before dark.  Common sense would have dictated a return via the same route, which was a lot shorter, but I was determined to follow my original plan and began a helter-skelter descent into the middle of the Pound along a rough track in gathering gloom.

Inside Wilpena Pound......in daylight!

By the time I reached the valley floor it was almost pitch dark, but the trail had improved, was more even underfoot and with its route defined by the bordering vegetation.  This was fine for a few kilometres, but as it got even darker, the vegetation became sparser and the sandy trail almost impossible to follow.  I moved forward at snail's pace peering into the darkness to confirm I was still on the trail.  It was clear that if I lost the trail, the chances of finding it again in the darkness were negligible and I would be spending my night in the Pound.  Whenever I felt I may have lost the trail, I retraced my steps to a known place and then resumed my cautious progress.  Several times, I was literally down on my knees feeling for the sand of the trail with my hands to determine it's existence and direction.

Eventually, I reached the creek the trail followed out of the Pound and back to the campsite through a rocky gorge.  In places the narrow and rough trail hugged the rocky and steep banks just above the creek and on two occasions I fell into the inky black water.  Fortunately, it was only knee deep.  The trail became easier to follow as I neared the campground and I reached the camp office around 8pm to find my wife and friends consulting with the Park Ranger about a rescue plan.  Very embarrassing.

After yesterday's run, and in bed last night, my arthritic right knee was sore, so I decided to run this morning without the arch support insoles I have been wearing the last ten days.  I hoped this might ease the strain on my suspect knee, but I also knew I needed to be wary of aggravating the right arch problem.  The solution seemed to be a shorter run, which is what I did.  The arch stung a little the whole way, but the knee seemed to welcome the change.

I have some different insoles on order, that are a little lower in the arch, and I hope, a little lighter than the current version.  They should be here by now, and when they do arrive, my hope is that they will be part of the transition back to running without the special insoles.

A barometer

Starting up Copa Hill

I didn't feel too bad running this morning as I started the ascent of the hill out of Copa, but by the time I was two-thirds of the way up, my perception had changed and it became hard work.  This was the first time I have run my regular 10km "garbage run" in seven weeks, so I knew it would be a good indicator of my fitness.  These "garbage runs", which I discussed in my post titled St Louis, can be a good barometer for how you are travelling, as well as keeping the engine ticking over.

A gentle descent down Ridgeway in Avoca Beach

I always time myself, but never aim for a particular time.  I just run how I feel, and then see what my time is at the end.  For my Copa 10km, which incorporates two big hills and a couple of shorter ones, my times range from 50 minutes to just over an hour.  Of course, how I feel and how fast I go on any particular day, depends on a number of factors including my base running fitness, the previous day's training, how much sleep I had, what injuries I'm carrying, etc.  Based on these factors, I have an expectation of what time I will run to within a couple of minutes, and if my time falls outside of this range, then it might be a cause for concern, or for assurance.  I don't make a big deal out of it in my mind, but might use the information to modify my short-term training or racing plans.

Elevation Profile for my Copa 10km

Feeling tired by the top of Copa hill this morning was certainly consistent with this stage of my comeback from the right arch injury, so it wasn't alarming.  I had had two easy days training since the 16km Muzza's Run on Saturday, so I should have freshened up a bit and this would explain why I felt OK early in this morning's run.  However, my base fitness is not good, so I would also expect to tire quickly on hills or over distance.

The last of the four flights of steps
comprising the Avoca Steps

Copa hill is followed by a long gentle descent down Ridgeway which is good for recovery, then two kilometres of deceptive undulations along the Round Drive that quickly resurrect any fatigue, and that is what happened this morning.  The flat two kilometres through Avoca Beach can be quick if you're feeling good, but hard work if you're going too fast, and then comes the Avoca Steps which are never easy, and particularly tough when I'm unfit or tired.  This morning they were a struggle, but I kept running and then savoured the last kilometres home that incorporate some nice descents, ocean and coastal views, and a few sharpish hills to keep you honest.

This morning, my time was 53 minutes, a little faster than I anticipated, but I did feel more tired than usual for this course, so I'm about where I expected in my comeback.

Strategy

2013 started well with 18th place overall
(out of 309) in the Boney Mt Trail Half
Marathon, outside LA in the USA, on
7 January.

This morning, I ran an easy 10km from Terrigal in beautiful winter sunshine.  My right arch still hurts a little and my adductor was again a bit sore, but I'm optimistic that both are continuing to improve.

I've been reviewing my objective to run another sub-3:00 hour marathon, and how long such a quest should be pursued.  Maybe I'm kidding myself, but I still believe that, if things go well, I can do it.  On the other hand, I made three attempts over three years to break the record for the quickest circumnavigation of Australia by bike, solo and unsupported, and each failed for different reasons at about the half-way mark.  Even now, in my heart, I still believe I could achieve that feat if everything went my way, but accept that the risks are significant, and maybe I should leave it alone.

Running a sub-3:00 hour marathon at the age of 62 (or 63), is less risky and less challenging.  For example, in last month's Gold Coast Marathon, the 60-64 Age Group winner ran 2:46!  And, I only have to worry about my body, not road trains or bicycle mechanics.

An old friend, whose opinion I respect, recently told me that there was something a little sad about pursuit of these goals where the chance of success is small.  His view is that I should focus on my running longevity, since I enjoy the sport so much, and not increase the risk of injury by chasing likely futile objectives .  There's certainly some logic to that argument.  For whatever reason, I can't help trying to see how far or fast I can go; to find the edge of the "envelope".  Maybe it's a pursuit of celebrity, and I don't mind the limelight.  My brother says, that since childhood, I've had a "Look at me, look at me!" complex, and I can't deny it.

I accept that pursuing such goals may bring a career-ending injury closer.  However, I just wouldn't be happy if I wasn't running as much as I think my body can reasonably sustain.  That's what I've been doing most of the last 45 years, and its ingrained.  I also know from observation, that at my age (and younger), there are many other things that could unexpectedly bring my running career (and life) to an early halt, so why save myself.

Having said all of that, a sub-3:00 hour marathon is not my only mission in life.  Since retiring ten years ago, I have tried to have one big adventure each year, generally cycling or hiking.  If I haven't managed a sub-3:00 hour marathon by July next year, I will give up on the quest and get back to my usual adventures.  There are many things still on my bucket list.

I don't believe it's feasible to run marathons (and ultras) too frequently if you want to achieve your potential.  My rule of thumb is that such events should be three or four months apart, if you are focused on doing your absolute best.  With this in mind, I have ear-marked the Hobart Marathon (January), Canberra Marathon (April) and Gold Coast Marathon (July) as events I will train for specifically with the goal of a sub-3:00.  I still intend to run the Melbourne Marathon in October, but don't expect to be fit enough to run my best.  As soon as I get back into full training, hopefully, by the end of this month, I will work out a detailed training and race plan to target the Hobart Marathon in January 2014.

St Louis

Mason Road, St Louis, part of my regular morning 10km

Happily, the adductor muscle strain that was bothering me yesterday was not a problem on my easy 5km jog around the streets of Copa this morning.  Nor was my right arch any worse than yesterday, so I'm feeling a little more confident about getting back into full training by the end of August.

Copa is situated in a beautiful part of the world and offers plenty of running courses, but options for an easy 5km are quite limited.  In fact, there's pretty much only one loop that works from my house, and it does get a little boring day after day, despite passing by the spectacular beach.  Fortunately, there are more options for the 10-12km runs that have been the "bread and butter" of my running life.

Although my training load has varied, the standard recovery and/or morning run has tended to be 10-12km.  These runs have been referred to as "garbage runs" by other writers.  They are not quality sessions, nor are they designed to develop a specific running attribute.  But they generally reinforce muscle memory and strength, exercise the cardiovascular system and aid running efficiency.  They keep the engine ticking over, and become the most common session for many runners.  As such, they loom large in my memory of the many places I have been lucky enough to live and work in during my life, and I judge the running amenity of these places according to the variety and interest of these regular 10-12km runs.

I still managed a couple of podium
finishes while living in St Louis

Probably the most boring location, from a running perspective, was St Louis in the US, where I lived in the western suburbs from 1992 to 1997. Our area was characterised by long, mostly straight through roads laid out in a grid pattern, servicing many unconnected housing estates. It was quite hilly and also exposed, with the latter exacerbating the drastic seasonal variations. In winter, the cold air used to sweep down the Mississippi Valley from Canada and months could be spent running in dark sub-freezing morning temperatures, with wind-chills often exceeding -25°C and occasionally reaching -40°C, or worse. In summer, the warm humid air made its way up the Mississippi Valley from the Gulf of Mexico, and even the early morning runs were sweltering affairs. We were lucky enough to have a pool and the sweetest moment of most days was stripping off and diving in to that (hidden from public view) pool at the end of the run.

There was really only one 10km loop from my house, and for variation, I would alternate directions each day for my morning run (I was only training once per day by this stage of my life).  It wasn't a bad course, with a few hills and a semi-rural stretch, but running it most days each week for five years was enough.  In all of the times I ran that course, two runs in particular live in my memory, both weather-related.

Hawk Ridge Trail in Queeny Park, St Louis

At certain times of the year, St Louis used to have some violent storms with barrages of thunderclaps sounding like artillery duels.  As is my wont, I don't like changing my training plans because of weather, so I tended to go for my scheduled runs regardless.  In one early morning twilight, I was about two kilometres into my regular loop, running west along Clayton Road during a thunderstorm, when a huge thunderclap sounded directly overhead accompanied by a simultaneous lightning strike on a tree about 50 metres to my left.  I must have leapt a metre into the air and finished the run powered by adrenalin.

On another occasion, in early morning mid-winter darkness, I was heading south along the unlit and narrow Mason Road in about 7cm of fresh snow when I encountered three snow-ploughs, covering the entire width of the road, approaching me at about 50kph.  I had no choice but to leap off the road down a dark embankment to avoid being hit by the juggernauts.  Fortunately, no harm done.

If time and weather permitted, I sometimes ran a 12km loop that incorporated trails in the nearby picturesque Queeny Park, but the park didn't officially open until 8:00am so I was reluctant to do that too often.  However, it was a great place to run some laps on weekends.

Muzza's Run

The trail, part of Muzza's Run, crosses a creek
near Seymour Ponds

It was with some trepidation that I set out from Terrigal this morning in the pre-dawn darkness with a hundred other Terrigal Trotters for the 16km Muzza's Run.  It was the furthest I have run for six weeks, and I have only resumed jogging short distances this week after four weeks of no running.

Muzza's Run is named in honour of Murray "Muzza" Antony, a long-standing member of Terrigal Trotters who was tragically killed in an industrial accident three years ago.  This course, which was originally known to us as Seymour Ponds, was one of Muzza's favourites.  Muzza was about my age and a talented runner.  We always kept an eye on each other's form and enjoyed a friendly rivalry.  I was a spectator, supporting Sharon, at the 2009 Melbourne Marathon and witnessed Muzza just fail in a valiant attempt to break 3 hours as a 60 year old.  He was on track, but faded a tad in the last 10km to finish with 3:07, still an excellent time.  Just three months later, he was dead, a reminder to me, and us all, to live life to the full and not count on tomorrow.

Muzza at the 2006 Canberra Marathon

After a very cautious start this morning, I gradually gained confidence in the ability of my right arch to survive the whole distance and chose to bypass several opportunities for short-cuts around the 6km mark.  I felt like I was moving quite freely and gradually reeled in some of the people ahead of me.  In the single-track forest section, I took extra care to protect my injured foot, especially down the step sections, and avoided any obvious damage.  My lack of fitness began to tell after 10km and I just concentrated on trying to hold my form for the balance of the run.

A small strain in my right adductor muscle has been one of my "niggles" for the last couple of days, and it was a little painful today for the first kilometre and has become sore again after the run.  From memory, I have had this problem in the past and it has gone away after a few days, but I need to keep an eye on it.  My intention is to only walk or jog for tomorrow's exercise so that will give it some rest.  It will also be interesting to see how my arch injury is tomorrow.  If it's no worse, then I will probably join the Trotters' bus to Sydney next Sunday for the annual City to Surf 14km, but not with the intention of running hard....just to enjoy the crowds and camaraderie.

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.