Marking time

Some of the Thursday morning track group.

The day started with supervision (I use the term loosely) of the Thursday morning track session at Terrigal Haven in the light of a beautiful sunrise.  Pity about the flies!

I now live in Terrigal, having moved here from Copa nine months ago, so am within walking distance of the track sessions at The Haven.  Walking there and back, my right heel seemed OK, and I was hopeful my post-track session training run would show that it had improved.

Some of the new trail I explored this morning.

As a little more motivation, I decided to check out a pathway I had seen on the map but never run along in the 11 years I have lived on the Central Coast.  It wasn't very long, but could be used to add variety to other runs if it proved runnable.

The first couple of kilometres of running were much better, pain-wise, and my mood improved.  But by the last few kilometres of the 9km run, the pain was a little more obvious.  Nevertheless, it was better than yesterday, and with another couple of easy running days scheduled, I'm hopeful it will be ready for a long run on Sunday.

The new path was short and quite runnable, so will provide an alternative to running up or down the busy Terrigal Drive when I want a change.

Breaking the rules

This morning's short run circumnavigated Terrigal Lagoon

A common saying among runners is "listen to your body", but I've never been a great believer in this credo.  Whenever you are training hard and near the edge, you will frequently be tired and have chronic low-level injuries and other niggles.  If you didn't train on the days when these were issues, you would not be as fit.  It would be too easy to rationalise missing sessions.

These days, I almost always struggle for the first 4-5km of a run before I start to feel human, so it is important not to listen to my body or I would rarely run.  Instead, I always know what I'm going to be doing each day for about two weeks ahead, and more importantly, exactly what I am doing the next day when I go to bed.  If you are undecided, it's too easy to change your mind when you get up because of the weather, or someone else's training plan, or some niggle or fatigue

The entrance to Terrigal Lagoon

Having said all of that, today was a day when I broke my own rule.  I set out to run my scheduled 22km but after one kilometre my injured heel still felt warm and somewhat sensitive, though improved over yesterday, and much better than three days ago.  Even though I felt I could have run the distance without setting myself back, I began rationalising.  I have a 42km trail run planned for Sunday to scope out a new trail run for Trotters, and the three days before that were intended to be relatively easy.  If I took it easy today, I would only be missing one quality training session, and then have another three days for the heel to get even better before Sunday.  And the reality is that missing one quality session ten weeks before my target race (Bogong to Hotham) does not matter in the scheme of things.

So I cut my run to 6.5km, have felt guilty all day, and remain fearful that the injury is worse than I hope.  It's affecting my mood, but if I can get through Sunday's 42km "no pressure" trail run comfortably, optimism will return.

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.

Hoping

I met this guy on my walk today

The heel I hurt on yesterday's long run remains painful, but has improved.  By this afternoon, I was able to walk 5km without serious discomfort.  I'm hoping that by tomorrow it will have improved sufficiently to complete my usual Tuesday morning run with a group from Trotters.  It will be sore, but if I can get through without making it worse, some optimism will return.

However, I'm also trying to mentally prepare myself for a worse case scenario.  It's always important to know what your options are, and I have played out several in my mind.  One thing I don't want to do is to soldier on despite worsening pain.  All serious runners know the temptation when fit to keep on running, regardless of an injury, for fear of losing their fitness and wasting all the time and effort they have invested to get to that stage.

Thirty or forty years ago, I would have visited a doctor to get anti-inflammatories prescribed so that I could continue to train and race.  In retrospect, I cannot remember a time when this proved to be a sustainable solution.  Either I ended up needing to have more time off running, or in the more serious cases, surgery.  These days, I don't feel any temptation to resort to anti-inflammatories.  Better not to mask the pain so that you really know the scale of the injury.  If the injury seems bad tomorrow, I will be scaling back my training.

Mixed fortunes

Good omen?

As I left my house at 5:00am in the pre-dawn gloom to start my 37km long run, I found a $50 note on the footpath.  I hoped that was a good omen, because I really wasn't looking forward to the next three plus hours.  I felt a bit tired and sore all over from yesterday's hard 10km, and had even brought along my iPod and headphones, so that I could listen to music as a distraction (something I rarely do these days).

Once I started running, I didn't feel as bad as I expected, and after the usual four to five kilometres of warming/loosening up, I settled into a reasonable pace.  The iPod took my mind off the time ahead as many of my playlist tunes are evocative of times and people I have known - a trip down memory lane.

Lake Tuggerah

After the undulating first 12km, the next 10km to The Entrance is flat, much of it along the bike path bordering Tuggerah Lake and my pace picked up to comfortably average sub-5:00/km on a superb early morning.  Even when I started hitting some more undulations after 22km, I was maintaining my pace well.  But as I climbed a gradual hill with 9km to go, I became conscious of my chronically-injured right heel becoming very tender and painful.  Within a kilometre my pace had dropped back to 5:30/km, I was favouring my right heel significantly, and I had lost the good running form I had maintained to that point.  I plodded on to the end, not enjoying it at all and hoping that my heel problem wasn't returning to dog my life as it had done up until six months ago.

The Entrance

It's now eight hours later, and the heel is still painful to walk on, though has improved somewhat.  I just have a 5km walk scheduled for tomorrow and a shorter run on Tuesday, so I'm hoping that gives it time to recover sufficiently for the 20-25km run I had planned for Wednesday.  If not, I'll have to re-evaluate my training and racing plans for the next three weeks.  Not happy!

Am I dreaming?

Approaching the first turn-around in this morning's Trotters'
Brooks Hill 10km Time Trial (that's me in grey).
[Photo courtesy of Judy Murray]

I ran the Trotters' Brooks Hill 10km Time Trial this morning in 42:39, a time that was a little disappointing.  Of course, it's a tough 10km, there's still some stiffness and fatigue from last Sunday's Girrakool to Patonga long run, and it's hard to get the adrenalin pumping at 6:00am on a Saturday morning, but I still hoped for a faster time.

The hard reality is that my average pace over 10km this morning was almost exactly the same average pace I will need to maintain to achieve a 3 hour marathon.  Sadly, I felt like I was running flat out the whole way, and no part of the race was comfortable or enjoyable.  My heart rate average for the 10km was just 5bpm below my maximum rate!

I believe that I could maintain a pace of 15-20 seconds slower per kilometre (i.e. 4:30-35) over the marathon distance at present, which would yield a time of 3:15.  Somehow, I need to get my 10km time down to 40 minutes or less to have any hope of a sub-3 hour marathon.

If I was 40 years younger, I would be including some track sessions and short fast races to work on my speed.  However, every time I have tried track training in the last ten years, I have injured myself.  I'm also hesitant to change my current training routine which has yielded steady improvement without injury over the last six months, even though it includes little fast running.

I do believe that training and racing yield a cumulative benefit over time without the need to consciously increase the quantity or quality of your work-outs.  As you get fitter, you find your training runs get faster anyway.  On balance, I think my best approach is not to meddle with my training program and trust that speed improvement will come with time.  Nevertheless, it's hard not to get a little depressed about where I am, versus where I need to be.

Next six months

Paul Every, Phil "Spud" Murphy and Jan Herrmann, running
legends all, at the summit of Mt Bogong on the way to Mt
Hotham in the 2005 Bogong to Hotham (I'm the photographer).

As mentioned previously, the reason I have restarted posting to this blog is that I'm now quite fit and think that if I can train consistently for the next six months, I can run a good marathon.  Maybe even near 3 hours.

I've always been a bit "old school" about marathon racing, believing that you need about three months between peak efforts  -  3-4 weeks to recover, 6-8 weeks of serious training, and 2-3 weeks of taper.  Of course, the running calendar is never that neat, so I will to focus on three races in which I want to do well over the next six months (the last being the marathon), and build my training around those.

Assuming I can get my entry accepted, the first will be the Rooftop Run (aka Bogong to Hotham) on 10 January, a 64km trail race across Victoria's High Plains.  The course is very challenging, with an aggressive cut-off at 34km, and the scenery is spectacular.  I have run it a few times before (see here), but not recently.

The second race will be the annual Six Foot Track Marathon (45km) in the Blue Mountains west of Sydney on 12 March, the largest ultramarathon in Australia, and a race I have run well a few times (and badly some others).  Like the Bogong to Hotham, the course is tough and the scenery beautiful.  It attracts the best runners in the state and has great atmosphere.

2005 Bogong to Hotham finishers.

For the marathon, I wanted to find a race that had a fast certified course, and plenty of sub-3 hour finishers.  However, one major factor has limited my choice.  For much of this year, I have been looking forward to spending three or more months hiking in Ireland during the northern spring of 2016.  Originally, I was going to fly out shortly after Six Foot Track, so I would be back in Australia around the end of June - plenty of time to prepare for the Great North Walk 100s (GNW100s) in mid-September, for which I am Race Director.  Now that a road marathon is on my agenda, my hiking will need to start later, but not too late or I won't be back in time for the GNW100s preparation.

I have decided that I can get by on four weeks recovery from Six Foot Track, arguing to myself that trail races aren't as hard on the body as road marathons.  I considered the races available in Australia, but none were suitable.  The Canberra Marathon is on 10 April, but the new course is undulating and not fast.  Looking to Europe, I found the Rotterdam Marathon and the Greater Manchester Marathon, also both on 10 April, and have decided that Greater Manchester is the best choice.  It's big (~8,000 finishers), but not as big as Rotterdam, has a flat certified course, and plenty of sub-3 hour finishers (~500).

Now I just have to get to the start in good shape and hope the weather obliges.

Self-Management

The Trotters ready for Girrakool to Patonga

I like to think one reason for my last six months of almost uninterrupted running is that I have been giving myself longer to recover from hard runs and trying to mix trail running with road running. (Of course, it might all be luck!).

Last Sunday, I ran the annual Terrigal Trotters' Girrakool to Patonga 25km trail run through Brisbane Water National Park. It's a course that has everything - views, waterfalls, rock ledges, mountains, fern-filled valleys, caves, single-track and fire-trail - and is very popular with club members and me. If you are fit, it is very runnable, and in parts, exhilarating.

Usually on trail runs these days, I'm careful not to run technical track too quickly or descend too hard for fear of jarring my lower back and/or damaging my right heel, not to mention the other obvious risks such as falling or crashing into a tree. However, with some trail races planned over the next three months, I wanted to run hard, and gave myself permission to take some risks. I thoroughly enjoyed myself, particularly on the descents, where landing decisions are made in mid-air, the trees and rocks whistle by, and the adrenalin pumps. Apart from some minor missteps, I survived without incident and recorded what for me was a fast time.

Reaching the bottom of the last descent at Patonga beach.

Since Sunday, my body has been stiff and sore, particularly when rising in the morning.  My legs feel lethargic and my training times have been slow. But all of this was expected and I have been telling myself that by Saturday, when I hope to run a reasonable time in the Trotters' monthly time trial, I will have loosened sufficiently to be competitive. After this morning's 10km plod, I'm not so sure, but I need to have faith in my plan and approach.

Having run long on the trail last weekend, I intended to run long on the road this weekend to give my ankles and heel a rest. However, I have just learned that friends are planning a long trail run through Bouddi National Park, one of my favourites, on Sunday morning. It's a big temptation to join them, and I would probably survive unscathed, but I know that I would be wiser to stick with the road run and my longer term strategy.  We'll see!

Addiction

Running around 100 kilometres a week with a body that has absorbed many thousands of kilometres over the past 46 years, and knowing that it increases the chances of a future knee replacement or other terminal injury, is not rational.

I know it, yet pride myself on generally being rational and cool-headed.

The Mayo Clinic's website lists behaviours consistent with drug addiction as

• Feeling that you have to use the drug regularly
• Having intense urges for the drug
• Over time, needing more of the drug to get the same effect
• Making certain that you maintain a supply of the drug
• Spending money on the drug, even though you can't afford it
• Not meeting obligations and work responsibilities, or cutting back on social or recreational activities because of drug use
• Doing things to get the drug that you normally wouldn't do, such as stealing
• Driving or doing other risky activities when you're under the influence of the drug
• Focusing more and more time and energy on getting and using the drug
• Failing in your attempts to stop using the drug
• Experiencing withdrawal symptoms when you attempt to stop taking the drug

I can substitute "running" for "drug" (with some grammatical flexibility) in the above symptom list and many of them apply to me. I am addicted to running.

But does the running addiction matter? It may bring my running career to an earlier end. I may be getting around on a walking stick by the time grandchildren arrive. My legs may not tolerate the hiking and cycling adventures still on my bucket list. It may dominate my social life.  All of these things do matter, but others matter more.

My father is now a nursing home resident with a quality of life I have no wish to emulate. His fate has reinforced a desire to live life to the full while I have the means. I'll be 65 in six weeks and there are many ailments that could claim me in the years to come. I only have to look around my demographic.  My legs can't be the only thing wearing out.

The last six months of running has given me rewards (highs) that I thought had been consigned to history. It makes me feel alive and younger. I believe that more may be achieved with determination and good management, and I want to see how far I can go.

Tempting Fate

Waiting for the start of my comeback race in
March 2015 near St Louis, Missouri.

It has been more than fifteen months since my last blog post and for much of that time I have been unable to run.  The right heel problem referred to in my last post worsened and scans revealed significant damage. I was told that my serious running days were over (not for the first time in the last 30 years!).  The best I could reasonably hope for was to jog 5km a few times a week.

The pain was significant in multiple areas of the heel and I stopped running and started mountain biking as a means of keeping fit.  In March of this year, I resumed jogging, strongly motivated by the opportunity to run, three weeks later, a favourite event in the US for the first time since the mid-1990s. Through experimentation and experience, I have learned to manage the heel in a number of different ways.  Much to my astonishment, I have been able to run, relatively uninterrupted, for the last six months and reached a level of fitness sufficient to resurrect the faint hope of running a good marathon time.

The heel still causes me problems, along with all of the other niggles a 64 year old runner endlessly gets, but I am enjoying my running and still seeing improvement.  I have picked out a marathon in April of next year, six months away, and will now chart my progress towards that race in this blog.  To run a good time, I will have to remain relatively uninjured for the six months, an unlikely prospect.  Just restarting the blog makes me feel like I am tempting fate!

Every now and then

Some of the Terrigal Trotters team on the way to the
Woodford to Glenbrook 25km Trail Race.

It is nine months since my last Woodford to Glenbrook 25km trail run (it was postponed three months last year because of flooding), and my life during those nine months has been quite eventful, particularly on the health front.  Five months ago, when dealing with the Deep Vein Thrombosis, Pulmonary Embolism and Atrial Flutter, I was telling myself that if I could just run again, even a few kilometres a week, I would be happy.  I did not give myself any chance of running Woodford to Glenbrook this year, so was very happy to not only be on the starting line yesterday, but feeling well enough to race.

My right Achilles tendon and heel remain very painful, but otherwise I have been feeling fit, so I was keen to see what I could do without any great pre-race expectations.  Last year I ran 2:01 and was second in the 60+ age group.  I hoped to go sub-2:00 this year and win the 60+.

It was a cold morning in the Blue Mountains with an icy wind, but the sun was shining and once we started running the cold didn't seem so bad.  I started steadily with the goal of running within myself for the first 10 kilometres, and that approach worked well, though left me weaving through many of the 380-strong field on the rocky undulating fire trail.  I didn't push it up the hills, trying to keep my breathing regular, but still sensitive to a pressure I could feel in the centre of my chest as my heart rate rose.  This pressure may always have been there, but would have been unnoticed a year ago.  A little worrying nevertheless.

A whale wallowed just off Copa beach during my
slow recovery walk this morning.

Even running within myself, I was gaining a few places on the climbs, but was doing even better on the flats and steep technical downhills.  As last year, I really enjoyed letting myself go down the hills, trusting myself to react quickly enough on the loose rocky track as I slalomed through slower runners.  It made me feel young again, though in a concession to my health issues, I was wearing a medical wristband alerting any paramedics to the Warfarin (blood thinner) I was taking.  Cuts would bleed profusely and a bad head knock could risk a brain haemmorhage.

The last 10 kilometres of the race was on a gradual downhill section that seemed never-ending.  By this time, my bad Achilles was very painful and I fought to maintain an even stride though every step hurt badly.  I still managed to catch a few more people, though lost a couple of places in the last few hundred metres on the race to the finish line.

I was surprised and pleased to see my time of 1:52, and later to find I had won the 60+ age group by 20 minutes.  A very satisfying day, though walking today has been very painful on my sore heel.  I see a specialist this week to review my blood clot issues and hopefully get off the Warfarin.  I'm not getting my hopes up.

You never can tell

Sunday morning, before my 28km run, was spent helping
at a drink station for Terrigal Trotters Bay to Bay
Running Festival.

When the alarm sounded at 5:00am, unusually for me, I lay in bed for a couple of minutes pondering whether I would get up.  I was tired, it was very cold and dark, and I dreaded putting my right foot on the ground, sure that the heel and Achilles tendon would be painful.  But, my car was booked in early for some repairs and I knew that if I was to get a run in this morning, I needed to get up.

The first runner through in the Half
Marathon was Olympian, Martin Dent.

I lay in bed rationalising.  It was easy to justify giving the run a miss.  Instead, I could go for a walk while the car was serviced.  After all, it was only nine days since I ran a marathon and there was nothing to lose by missing another day's training, especially after labouring through a 28km run on Sunday following the tempo 11km Trotters run on Saturday.  Also, my right heel and Achilles tendon have been particularly painful the last three weeks and would benefit from another day of not running.  It wasn't hard to come up with reasons to roll over for another hour or two of sleep, and the advice I was giving myself was the same as I would have given to another runner in my situation.

The leading runners in the later-starting 12km event
(yellow singlets) catch one of the slower Half Marathon
runners.

But a little voice in my head told me I was being soft.  That if I stopped thinking about it and just did what I needed to do, I would be home, with the run done, before I knew it.  I rolled out of bed, went through my usual exercise routine, did a few small chores and was out the door soon after 5:30am.  It was dark and cold, and in the far distance I could hear the surf pounding on the Copa beach.  My first few steps weren't as hard as I expected, nor was my right heel as sore as anticipated (I had switched to some older Nike Pegasus shoes that I hadn't worn for a while), and my spirits lifted.

I wasn't running very fast, but I was moving OK.  As the kilometres passed, I felt better and better and was actually enjoying the run through the dark suburban streets with just a glimmer of light beginning to brighten the eastern skies.  My heel got a little sorer, but was nowhere near as painful as it had been on the weekend runs.  I finished feeling refreshed and glad that I had run.  It's easy to justify a day off, and maybe it wouldn't have made any difference if I had missed the run, but I have seldom regretted forcing myself out the door.  And I know I will be happier today for having done it.

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.