Hong Kong

Coombe Road

This morning's 10km run went a little better than expected.  I had been anxious about how my arch would be after Sunday's punishment, but although still sensitive, wasn't too bad.  My legs felt heavy, and I wasn't running particularly smoothly, but the time for my usual "garbage" 10km was an acceptable 54 minutes. 

On the subject of "garbage" runs, my favourite over the years is the 13km loop I used to run while working in Hong Kong.  In the late 1980s and early 1990s, I used to travel there quite often, sometimes for a month or two at a time.  Our corporate office was in the Pacific Place complex, and I usually stayed in one of the adjacent hotels.

Bowen Road

Hong Kong Island has many pedestrian pathways and minor roads criss-crossing the jungle-clad mountains, high above the sky-scrapers and sea.  When I first went there, I was quickly and pleasantly surprised to find places you could run that seemed far away from the hustle and bustle.

A run on my regular course started with turning the air conditioner to maximum power and minimum temperature as I left my room.  The usual heat and humidity, even in the early morning, meant that I returned over-heated and bathed in sweat.  The ritual became to strip off and stand under the air conditioning vent reading the paper for ten minutes or so until I stopped sweating.  Showering immediately after the run was useless, because I would still be sweating when I emerged, no matter how cold the water.

Looking over Hong Kong from near Bowen Road

The course was tough, climbing steadily for the first three kilometres, initially past apartment blocks (my favourite was called "Wealthy Towers"), and then higher along the main road to Magazine Gap.  There, I crossed to the south side of the Island and journeyed along the shady and quiet Coombe Road to Wan Chai Gap before joining Black's Link path.  This paved footpath contoured around a mountain, passing through one of Hong Kong's excellent regional parks, and provided fantastic views to the south coast.  It eventually reached civilisation again and then there was a steady downhill stretch alongside the busy Wong Nai Chung Gap Road past the Hong Kong Cricket and Tennis Clubs.  If I was feeling good, it was possible to fly down this section for a couple of kilometres before turning off on the famous pedestrian-only Bowen Road.

The Bowen Road follows a contour along the jungle-clad mountainside high above the main business district and the harbour.  The hum of a city starting a new day drifts up from below, but is offset by the peaceful routine of the Tai Chi practitioners and the smell of incense from the small wayside shrines along the Road.  In my opinion this is the best city running path in the world.  Again, if you are feeling good, it's possible to stretch out, and enjoy overtaking other runners.  After 4 kilometres of Bowen Road, the course turned downhill and returned to the hotel.

Why trail running

A group of Terrigal Trotters running the Patonga-
Little Wobby trail loop in 2012

The night after a long hard run is often punctuated by sudden awakenings with cramp or sore joints, and last night was no different.  My right knee, in particular, was sore, and my right arch as well.  After going through my morning usual exercises I felt a little more flexible and later went for a 5km walk.  The arch injury is definitely a little worse after yesterday's run, but not that bad that I'm contemplating time off running.  I'll try an easy 10km tomorrow and then play it by ear for the rest of the week, though optimally, I would like to do another easy long run on Wednesday as part of my program to regain lost fitness.

The Terrigal Trotters Facebook page was humming with comment about yesterday's trail run last night and today, most of it good-natured banter about those runners who lost their way at some point.  The growth in the popularity of trail running in recent years has been dramatic, and I often ponder on its drivers.

Another stop on the Patonga-Little Wobby loop

Is it a reaction to our claustrophobic urban life?  We live in an artificial environment, usually within the sound and sight of neighbours and traffic, and our training runs are through busy suburban settings.  I think there is something within many of us, maybe a kind of primeval instinct, that wilderness satisfies.  Almost a sense of belonging.  Trail-running evokes a sense of space and purity and an appreciation for the wild.  It rejuvenates the spirit, but also reminds us how small and transient we are in the scheme of things.  Running over mountains, through old growth forests and past ancient rock formations puts us in our place, as well as inspiring awe.

Sometimes a bit of swimming is involved
in trail running (also on the Patonga-Little
Wobby loop)

Maybe we have an unsatisfied need to face challenges and unknowns that have disappeared from our routine and molly-coddled lives?  I think the popularity of fun runs and marathon running grew out of a desire to test ourselves, realise our potential, and find our boundaries in a society where risks are minimised and physical challenges rare.  As these events have become commonplace and conquerable, runners have looked for something more.  There is a satisfaction in completing a run or event through an environment where dangers lurk, and help is far away.  Not so much the dangers from wildlife, which are generally minor, but the risks from falls, uncompromising terrain, weather conditions, navigation and inadequate nutrition and hydration.  There is seldom a trail run involving a group of people that does not yield adventures and stories of obstacles overcome.

Perhaps it's something as simple as trail-running being less damaging to the runner's body?  That's not to say that it's easy, but in trail running, there is a tendency to run slower and to have the footfall, muscle and joint demands vary with each step.  It's more of an all-round physical work-out, but not as tough on specific parts of the body.  In long road runs, the exact same footfall is repeated with every step, as is the very specific impact on muscles and joints.

Whatever the reason or reasons, I think trail running is here to stay, for very good reasons.

Old Great North Road Run

Terrigal Trotters getting ready to tackle the Old Great
North Road

I set out on the Terrigal Trotters 42km trail run along the convict-built Old Great North Road with some optimism, hoping that once I got onto the trail and amongst the beautiful and wild scenery of Yengo National Park, some kind of running form would return.  However, in the back of my mind lurked the thought that this might be wishful thinking.



Heading up Devines Hill

I started slowly, walking most of the first long climb, and then settled into a comfortable slow pace, glad to find that my right Achilles tendon was less painful than yesterday and that my right knee and arch were more or less behaving.  Around 20km, however, I started to feel quite tired on what was a warm and sunny day.  After that, it became a slog with plenty of walking on the hills and rockier parts of the trail, and I finished close to the back of the field in just over six hours.

Peter and Al tackling some single-track

In retrospect, I had no justification for thinking that I could run a solid 42km today, but it was disappointing, nevertheless.  I only resumed light running three weeks ago and haven't done any long runs, but I kind of hoped that the fitness I had before I got injured would have lingered longer.  At times like this, it is easy to think that good form and performances will never return.  As you plod along, an hour or more behind people you think you should be running with, it can be hard to fathom how you are going to make up that hour.

I just have to remind myself that a runner's potential is defined by their best performances, not their worst, and that if I stick to a well-thought-out program, and don't get injured, good form will return.  On the subject of injury, it was a bit worrying that my right arch began to get quite painful again in the last hour or two of the run, and I'm hoping I haven't set myself back.  I'll just go for a walk tomorrow and will have a better idea then.

Centre of gravity

The start of the Vicary Road hill on Mark's Run

After feeling so bad for what was only a short run yesterday morning, I decided it might be smart to run a few kilometres as a warm-up for this morning's Terrigal Trotters run.  So, at 5:30am, I headed off to the nearby Haven to run a few laps.  It was hard to imagine, as I hobbled along, that I would soon be running at five minute kilometre pace with my fellow Trotters.  My most recent injury, the right arch, seemed to be the least of my worries.  It was the older chronic right knee and Achilles injuries that were causing me the most grief.

I have a theory that if one of my Achilles tendons is sore, then I don't stretch it as much as I drive off with that leg, my stride shortens and my centre of gravity is further back than usual.  The consequence is that my running form is less efficient and it takes more effort to maintain a certain pace.  As the Achilles loosens up, the centre of gravity moves forward and running efficiency improves.  On my warm-up, my form was anything but efficient, and my Achilles was very sore, but I didn't try to force it (see earlier post titled "Managing a chronic Achilles").  Instead I just hoped that if I took it easy for the first kilometres of Trotters' "Mark's Run", the Achilles would loosen and I would be able to cope with the very significant hills later on the route.

Mark's Run passes through the very tranquil Erina Valley

As it turned out, the Achilles didn't loosen up to the point where I could stride out and feel balanced until after 10 kilometres.  Prior to that it was manageable running downhill and on the flat at slower speeds, but I was well back in the field.  When we reached the tough hills, which would normally be a strength, I just had to take them very gingerly and avoid putting any severe pressure on my right ankle, trying to prevent the Achilles from stretching too far.  It was frustrating and unpleasant.

The last 4km of the run were actually quite enjoyable as I finally began to run properly, and at a reasonable speed, for an old bloke.  The Achilles problem comes and goes, and it's not always possible to work out what triggers it.  Maybe I tie the shoes too tight and they grip too firmly on the tendon, or maybe it's running on an uneven or soft surface.  Eventually, I suspect more surgery will be needed.

Tomorrow's 42km trail run will be a challenge, but I will be running slowly and in a different pair of shoes.  I'm keen to do the run both because it's through a beautiful part of the world, and because I need some long runs to build fitness.  One bright spot today was that, although I could feel some sensitivity in my right arch, it continues to improve and seems to be the least of my current problems.

Frankfurt

The path along the Nidda River

Before returning to the golf course this morning, for the first time in a couple of months, I went for a chilly and very slow 5km jog in the pre-dawn darkness.  I never felt good running and was just glad to get it over.  I'm hoping some form and fitness returns before tomorrow's Terrigal Trotters 12km run, and the long bush trail run planned for Sunday.  It could be a tough and painful weekend.

Last night, at the track session I supervise at Adcock Park in Gosford, one of the runners, Jodie, was telling us about his daunting business travel itinerary for the next couple of weeks and we were discussing the challenges of running and minding your diet on such trips.  Europe was going to be part of his journey and it put me in mind of the time I was working and living, part-time, in Frankfurt in the early 1990s, and my favourite regular "garbage" run there (see post titled St Louis for the explanation of a garbage run).

My run took me close to the Bundesbank

For a year or two, I was assigned to manage our company's German operation while living near London and regularly spent time in Frankfurt, often travelling there on the first Monday flight and returning on the last Friday flight.  I either stayed in a small hotel, or in a company apartment, both near our office.  It was an exciting time to be in Germany as the Berlin Wall had just come down and reunification was in overdrive.

I grew to love my regular Frankfurt morning run which was a little under 14km and took me about an hour in those days.  It usually started in darkness as I headed west through quiet narrow apartment-lined residential streets for a few kilometres before reaching open parkland in the city's northwest.  My most vivid memory of this run is the loud twittering of thousands of birds in the trees each morning as the eastern skies brightened.  I don't know what type they were, probably something like sparrows or starlings, and they were there every morning.  Even now, when I hear the loud sound of thousand of birds all twittering at once, my mind immediately goes back to that dawn run through Frankfurt.

Grunebergpark

The middle part of the run followed the banks of the Nidda River before swinging back towards the city through a small forest.  The last few kilometres took me past the powerful Bundesbank, through the lovely manicured Gruneburgpark, and by the gates of a small American military base, before I returned to my hotel/apartment.  There were few hills in the whole run, and if I felt good, I often ran quite quickly.  The post-run breakfast of coffee and freshly-baked bread rolls with butter and jam in the little Turmhotel dining room also lingers fondly in my memory.

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.