September 11th

Pear Tree Point Road, Darien

My legs were very heavy, as I expected they would be, when I set out for this morning's 11.5km run after supervising the Terrigal Trotters track session at The Haven.  I plodded slowly up the early steep hills, with my legs still feeling every metre of yesterday's 30km trail run.  When the course flattened out, I felt a little better, but as soon as I hit the hills again, the fatigue returned.  I was still coughing a lot, but was happy to find that my right Achilles tendon wasn't too bad after yesterday's exertions.  Perhaps a glimmer of light at the end of that particular injury tunnel?

Looking down Long Island Sound from Pear Tree Point
Beach, Darien

As I often do on these tedious runs, I listened to the morning news programs on my radio, and heard a report on yesterday's commemorations in the US of the 12th anniversary of the September 11th terrorist attacks.  I was working in the New York area on that day, on the top floor of an office tower 30 miles north of the Twin Towers, and the events are etched in my memory.  On a very clear sunny day, we could see the smoke rising from the downtown skyline while we followed events on television, and soon sent our anxious staff home.  My company, which was a major supplier of financial information and systems to Wall Street, had a number of offices near the Twin Towers, and I was a frequent visitor to our offices and clients, including in the doomed Towers.  Sadly, six of our staff died, along with many clients.  I knew a number of people directly affected, including some later honoured for their efforts that day.  Our lives had a shadow hanging over them for many months.  Parents at my children's schools had been lost and forlorn cars in the station car parks along our line gathering dust over the ensuing months.  They were the cars of commuters who never came home.

The New York City skyline was incomplete
after September 11, 2001.

There was a pervasive sense of loss in the community, and it affected us all in many ways, large and small.  One of my favourite runs from my home in Darien, Connecticut, went along the pretty Pear Tree Point Road past Pear Tree Point Beach.  Although they were 35 miles away across Long Island Sound, on a clear day it had been possible to get a glimpse of the Twin Towers from a couple of points along the road, something we enjoyed showing our visitors.  It's trivial in the scheme of things, but for our remaining time in Darien I rarely ran past those points without looking in the direction of Manhattan and experiencing a visceral feeling that something was missing.

Dubbo Gully

The start of the descent to the Mangrove
Creek Valley.  Gymea lilies on the right.

I wanted to do a long run today, but couldn't face the idea of running on the roads near home.  I was still a bit tired from the race last Sunday, and my abortive run Round the Bay last Monday (see Post)was still fresh in my mind.  I needed to go somewhere more interesting, so drove 45 minutes  to Mangrove Mountain to run the Dubbo Gully loop through Yengo National Park, a favourite of runners and mountain bikers.

One of the great benefits of retirement is that I can go to such places mid-week and have them to myself.  There are two main Dubbo Gully options, a 25km and a 30km, with the 25km most commonly run or biked.  I really wanted to do the 30km, despite knowing it would be hard work and having struggled on it on previous occasions.  I chose to run the loop anti-clockwise, meaning the turn-off for the longer course came after 10km rather than 14km, making it less likely I would squib it and take the shorter course.  It also meant that the only water available on the course came later in the run.

Early settlers' graves in the Mangrove Creek valley

My right Achilles was sore from the moment I got up, but I was hopeful that adding the new heel raises that arrived yesterday to my trail shoes would alleviate some of the pressure.  I set out around 8:30am on a mild morning for the long 3km downhill stretch into the Mangrove Creek valley, not feeling particularly spritely, but pleased that my Achilles pain was minimal.  It's hard not to run this downhill section without wondering how well you will manage the return journey.  It is a long hill.

Looking across Yengo National Park

I was already quite warm by the time I reached the bridge across the Mangrove Creek, so removed my T-shirt and hid it for retrieval on the return journey.  I was starting to think that I should have hidden a Gatorade there as well.  My pace was slow and I enjoyed the quiet valley, which had once been the home to settlers but now formed part of the National Park.  There were open pastures by the Creek, and I passed a small settlers' graveyard by the side of the road.  There was little breeze and just the sounds of birds to disturb the stillness.  This really is one of my favourite places to run or ride.  I left the valley for the long climb through the forest on Donny's Track, scaring the occasional lyrebird which ran screeching off into the bush, and hearing rustles in the leaf matter by the trail every so often, probably a lizard, but maybe a snake.  Although I was running very slowly, the climb went better than expected and soon I was at the turn-off for the 30km course.

Mangrove Creek valley

The next 5km is gnarly fire-trail, with many short steep and rocky climbs and descents, and it always wears me down, despite the inspiring wilderness views and amazing alien-like Gymea lilies beside the track.  After the long gradual downhill following this section, I passed up the opportunity to get a drink of tank water from the rustic Ten Mile Hollow camping area, thinking I could make it through the remaining 13km back to the car.  By the time I reached the Mangrove Creek valley floor again, I was feeling very tired and from there it just became a slog back to the bridge and up the last 3km to the car.  At times, up the hill, I seemed to be barely moving, but with the exception of a short 20 metre section, I kept running.  My time was abysmally slow, 3:23, and I thought nostalgically back to times when I have run this course at a good speed and finished full of running.  On the plus side, my right Achilles tendon wasn't too painful so the heel raises had been a success.  My new asthma medication did seem to help me fill my lungs, but I was still coughing badly the whole way, perhaps the result of spring allergies.  Hopefully, this run will be "money in the bank" and I'll be stronger as a result.  That's the way it has worked in the past.

(More photographs taken on the Dubbo Gully run can be seen here)

Acclimatisation

Jack Foster winning the
1975 Honolulu Marathon

It was unseasonably warm overnight, with the temperature staying above 20°C.  Blustery northerly winds had raised the temperature to near 30°C by the time I headed out for an easy 10km at mid-morning.  Although the heat made the run harder work, I welcomed it.  I have a theory that you need to run in hot weather for about a week before your body adapts to make the running easier.  So the early days of heat in any summer will initially be hard work.  It's very hard to go from cold weather to warm weather and run well straight away.  A period of acclimatisation is needed.  This morning's run should have started that process for the coming summer.

The heat reminded me of a story I had been told about Jack Foster, a great New Zealand marathon runner, famous for the world record times he ran in his 40s (2:11:18) and 50s (2:20:28).  He only started running at the age of 32.  In early 1978, Jack was keen to get a place on the New Zealand team for the Commonwealth Games to be held in Edmonton, Canada, in August of that year.  For whatever reason, maybe injury, Jack hadn't run a qualifying time and was desperately looking for a certified marathon somewhere in Australasia to record a good time.  The only marathon he could find was in April in Whyalla, a remote steel town in South Australia, so he wrote to them and they invited him to run as their guest.  It was a new marathon and they were keen to get the publicity.  I heard this story the next year, when I was fortunate enough to be invited by the organisers to be their guest runner.

At least I managed to get on the same poster
as Jack Foster

Anyway, Jack needed to run a time of something like 2:16 to qualify and was optimistic that the flat Whyalla course would give him every chance.  Unfortunately for Jack, Whyalla can get hot, even in autumn, and during the race the temperature rose to 34°C.  The organisers had a huge barrel of water at about the 20 mile mark which they were intending to use as a source of water to douse passing runners.  By 20 miles, Jack's hopes of a qualifying time had evaporated in the heat, and the organisers told me that Jack actually jumped in the barrel of water to cool off before continuing to the finish in 2:26:52.  A year later, without the heat, I won in 2:27:43, so I have an appreciation for Jack's talents.  Sadly he was killed in a collision with a car while out training on his bike at the age of 72.

My right Achilles tendon was still quite sore when I set out for today's run, and I did wonder whether I was wise running at all.  But this injury has been with me for some years, and comes and goes in intensity, so I'm hoping careful management will help it settle down.  Part of that careful management is not forcing it, so I wasn't able to stretch out.  My running style felt awkward, which it was, and I'm sure I looked like an old man going out for a jog, which I was.  I hoped it might loosen up on the one kilometre climb out of Copa, but if it did, it was only a little.  I felt less fatigued than expected, given the 25km trail race on Sunday, but it got harder in the last kilometres as the hills and heat took their toll.

My time for my regular 10km loop was slow, 58 minutes, but that was of no consequence today.  The weather conditions were bad for anybody with breathing issues and the run was accompanied by lots of coughing and spluttering.  The mailman brought the new Sorbothane heel raises I had ordered today, so I'm hoping that will give my Achilles tendon some relief, and a visit to the doctor later resulted in a reversion to the former asthma medication which my body seemed to handle better.  I may risk a longer run tomorrow.

Toronto

Looking north over Toronto

My right Achilles tendon was very sore when I woke this morning and still sore when I went for a gentle 5km walk a few hours later, despite adding an old heel raise to my shoes to lessen the stretch pressure on the tendon.  Much of the walk was spent pondering how to get past the Achilles injury and start running well again.  The starting point was asking myself what has changed since earlier in the year when I had some good fitness.  I'm seeing the doctor tomorrow about my exercise-induced asthma, but maybe it results from a change in my training pattern.  Perhaps running the Six at Six race on Wednesday nights and following up with a Thursday morning run is an issue.  I need more than 12 hours between runs these days and running only in the evenings is neither practical for me, nor desirable.

My course headed north out of the CBD along Yonge Street

The Achilles loosened up a bit during the walk and I decided I might be better to concentrate on improving my base fitness ahead of speed for the next month and revert to two longish runs per week plus a tempo run at Terrigal Trotters on Saturday mornings.  If I can get round 10km tomorrow morning without too much pain, I'll try something longer on Wednesday morning.  It was another beautiful warm morning in Copa and the icing on the cake was watching a large pod of dolphins surfing just offshore in the sizeable swell.

The last part of the course passed by Queens Park near
the University

Dolphins and surf seem a long way from Toronto in Canada, where I worked frequently during the six years from 1997 to 2003 when I was based in New York.  I had responsibility for a group there and generally tried to spend two or three days working out of the Toronto office every two weeks.  Although I enjoyed working with the Canadians, I have to say I found Toronto a bit bland from a runner's perspective.  As a large city on a relatively boring piece of water, Toronto is similar to Melbourne and Chicago, but lacks the near downtown parks and waterfront paths of the latter two.  My usual hotel was in the downtown area and I tried a number of different routes in various directions before settling on a favourite Toronto 14km, for my early morning runs.

Basically it was just a long rectangle stretching north of the business district into the suburbs, and given that Toronto is located on a long slope with Lake Erie at its base, the course was mostly uphill on the way out and downhill on the way back.  It wasn't that interesting, but there's something that appeals to me about long straight stretches along street-lit roads in the early morning as the city awakes.  Another aspect of this course I liked was that, by the time I had worked hard on the uphill outwards leg, I was well warmed up, and then the return downhill trip, with the last part through the University precinct, was often run at a fast and enjoyable pace.

Woodford to Glenbrook

The Terrigal Trotters team ready for the Woodford to
Glenbrook 25km trail race
(Courtesy Judy Murray)

It was with some trepidation that I joined the Terrigal Trotters bus down to run the Woodford to Glenbrook 25km trail race in the Blue Mountains west of Sydney.  My right Achilles hurt, even just walking around this morning, and the poor run I had yesterday cast further doubt over my ability to perform well.

At least it was cool and overcast in Woodford, and we were there in sufficient time for me to jog a gentle 3km warm-up, including a couple of stride-throughs over 50 metres.  The Achilles gradually warmed up, but was still restricting my stride.  This injury is starting to get serious, and I fear, may lead to an extended period off running.  Anyway, for today, I decided to stick to my plan of starting slowly, and hopefully, getting faster once loosened up.

Post race presentations
(Courtesy Judy Murray)

The first few kilometres incorporated several short hills and I was quickly well back in the field, but thereafter I gradually started to make up ground and continued to do so for the balance of the race.  There were plenty of steep loose rock and gravel fire-trail descents in the first half of the race, and I backed my sure-footedness and passed plenty of people.  I wasn't trying to run fast, but instead just tried to make use of gravity, avoid braking, and maintain momentum.  In days gone by, I used to pride myself on how fast I could descend technical track.  You can get into a zone where the decision about where to plant your foot at the end of each stride is not made until you are in the air.  The adrenalin pumps and split-second decisions are important.  It's exciting, and I felt a little bit of that excitement at times today on the descents.

Mistakenly receiving the trophy for the first Over 60.  I had to
hand it back 10 seconds later to someone who had beaten me
by 30 seconds  (Courtesy Judy Murray)

The last 10km of the race is mostly flat or slightly downhill on broad fire-trail, and although I was tired and well-back in the field, I successfully maintained good form and momentum and made up a number of places.  My finishing time of 2:01 was well-below what I would have hoped to run if fit, but I was pleased with the way I maintained my effort for the whole race, and had feared I might do much worse.

On the downside, my right Achilles heel has become extremely inflexible and painful since the race, and I'm having difficulty walking.  I don't plan to run tomorrow, and will just hope, that as the inflammation wanes, I get some flexibility back and can run on Tuesday.  If not, I think it will be off to the doctor for an MRI.

Training through races

Terrigal Trotters getting ready to head for the Avoca Steps

Tomorrow is the Woodford to Glenbrook 25km trail race in the Blue Mountains, west of Sydney, and I'm travelling down with a busload of Terrigal Trotter clubmates.  The event was originally scheduled for late June, but was postponed because heavy rain had led to the National Park, through which the event runs, being closed.  I'm not in shape to take the race seriously, but not having run it before, I decided to keep my place in the bus and in the event.

Rounding Avoca Lagoon

That meant a decision had to be made about whether I should do all of this morning's 13.5km Avoca Steps run with Trotters, or have an easy day and rest up for tomorrow.  In days gone by, when I was training for a big event some months in the future, I rarely let myself ease up for an interim race unless it happened to coincide with a scheduled easier week's training.  Over time, experience showed me that whether I eased up or not, didn't seem to affect the quality of performances.  If you eased up, you felt physically and mentally fresher, but by the middle of the race it seldom made much difference.  I'm not saying you should train hard the day before.  In any training schedule, even when there is a heavy load, there should be easier/recovery days between the quality days.  I would just schedule that easier day before the day of the race.

Near the top of the Avoca Steps

After mulling over my options, I decided that shortening today's run so I felt better for tomorrow's run was not consistent with my need to maintain some training intensity.  Instead, I decided to run the full distance, but take it easy and avoid getting competitive.  To deal with the bronchial trouble, I took two puffs of Ventolin about half an hour before the run.  Maybe this was the reason that climbing the first steep hill out of Terrigal, my heart felt like it was racing and I struggled to get any rhythm.  I plodded up the hill, hoping things would get better, but they never did.  Although my heart rate settled down, my legs felt leaden, perhaps the result of standing around at an art exhibition for three hours last night, or maybe connected to the earlier Ventolin-induced exertions.

The Avoca Steps were very hard work, as was the last hill up Tramway, and I finished the run near the back of the field, very tired and somewhat demoralised.  My painful right Achilles had restricted my stride, and my right arch was still a little sore, so they may also have been factors.  I just have to remember that, although not stellar by any means, I ran better on Wednesday and last Saturday, so this morning's run should not be seen as representative of my current fitness.

I'll give the Ventolin a miss for tomorrow's run, start slowly, and hope I can redeem myself a bit.

Problem management

The path followed around the edge of Cockrone Lagoon at
McMasters Beach during this morning's run.

My right Achilles was still stiff and painful this morning as I headed out for an easy and flat 7km across the Cockrone Lagoon sandbar and through McMasters Beach.  I'm still wheezing and coughing a lot, but there is a very high pollen count on these warm spring days, and allergies may be exacerbating the problem.  Despite these two significant problems, I did feel like I was moving a bit better this morning, but I need to get these issues to a manageable level.

In the past, prior to surgery, I have managed chronic Achilles problems through the use of heel raises.  I recently purchased some at a sports store, but they are softish and more designed to cushion the heel strike.  I wonder if they make the problem worse, because there seems to be greater friction between the heel and the shoe as the pad compresses.  Thirty years ago, I used more rigid heel raises and often wore them for years on end.  The theory behind these heel raises is that the heel is higher relative to the front of the foot and therefore, with each step, the angle defined between the lower leg and foot is less acute.  We are talking millimetres, but it does make a difference.  I used to make my own heel raises by carving up the heels of old thongs (flip flops) and velcroing them to the inside base of my shoes.  Sadly, the thongs of these days seem to be made of softer and thicker material, and making my own heel raises hasn't been practicable.  An alternative I once used were Sorbothane heel pads and I've found they are still available on the web, so have ordered some.  If they don't work, I think I'll be visiting Dr Jon and getting an MRI.  I suspect there is a heel spur that needs to be removed, and that will put me out of running for months.

Cockrone Lagoon from the Copa side

The breathing difficulties I have been dealing with recently may be a consequence from ceasing use of the asthma medication I have been on for the last few years.  I stopped taking Seretide because it was giving me headaches, and before that, the doctor recommended I stop taking Symbicort which has had some adverse findings concerning long-term use.  Ventolin seems to help a bit, but I'm only taking it on days when I race.  I'm not sure that it is wise to be taking it before every run although a web search hasn't revealed evidence of any long-term use side-effects.  Two other major considerations for me are that I don't like the idea of taking anything long-term, and I don't want to take anything that is prohibited by the World Anti-Doping Agency (WADA) or the Australian Sports Anti-Doping Authority (ASADA).  The latter has a "Check your Substances" facility that allows you to make sure you are not contravening the rules and the FAQ on the Australian Sports Drug Medical Advisory Committee (ASDMAC) also provides good information.  Both of these websites show the medications I have been using comply with the rules, but that leaves the problem of avoiding long-term use.  I've made an appointment with my doctor next week to discuss the best option.

Waiting for momentum

Part of the Terrigal Trotters track group going through
their early morning paces at Terrigal Haven

This is my 100th post in this blog, and I'm sure all readers are tired of hearing about my injuries and illnesses day after day.  Yet, this is the life of a runner, and I wanted this blog to be a true record of how I was feeling about my running and my journey towards a goal.  When I started, I optimistically thought it would be a tale of ever-increasing fitness, hopefully taken to a new level, on the way to a sub-3:00 hour Melbourne Marathon on 13 October of this year.  It has actually turned out to be a record of the setbacks, disappointments and frustrations that have been the more common theme of my running career, and many running careers.

With only five weeks to Melbourne, the best I can hope for is to run faster than I did at the Macleay River Marathon back in June (3:24), but I'm trying not to get too hung up on what is an acceptable time.  Instead, I will treat it as a long training run, and to that end, have entered some Australian Masters Games events (5,000m track and 8km cross-country) in Geelong during the week before.  It's a way of telling myself that what I run in the marathon is not that important.

To get serious about running a good marathon I need a few months where I have training and psychological momentum.  This isn't something that can be turned on with a switch.  My strategy will be to keep plugging away at around 100km per week, injuries permitting, and wait for a feeling of well-being to return.  With that, will come motivation and serious planning for the next marathon, probably in Hobart in January.

It was yet another beautiful morning on the NSW Central Coast, and I enjoyed watching the track group run their 300m repetitions on the grass at The Haven before setting out on my own regular 16.5km run.  My right Achilles was quite stiff and sore after last night's run.  It feels like it has set in concrete and doesn't have the flexibility to let me run properly.  In my early days, I would have forced it to loosen up, ignoring the pain and consequences, but these days, I try and modify my gait to avoid undue pressure and lessen the pain.  This means a shortened stride length and this morning's early kilometres, up the steep hills of the Scenic Highway, were run at little more than a shuffle.  I must have looked pathetic.....and old.  At the top of the hill, a girl joined my route from a side street just in front of me.  She seemed to be running very slowly, but I wasn't catching her.  This didn't help my mood.

As the Achilles gradually became more loose, my speed and form improved and I slowly passed the girl.  Although very tired from last night's running, my legs did feel a little stronger as I went further, and I felt lighter on my feet, almost enjoying the flats and downhills.  This lightness evaporated in the last few kilometres and I was exhausted when I finished.  Pathetic, really, for just a slow 16.5km run.  However, a week ago at the same time I could only manage a 6km run so I guess that's progress (from a low base).

Continuing frustration

This nasty little hill in each Six at Six lap is tougher
than it looks

I headed into Gosford in the late afternoon for an easy 10km warm-up before the weekly Six at Six race.  Maybe it's the very early and warm Spring we're having, but for whatever reason, my sinuses were blocked all day and the warm-up 10km was marked by much coughing and expectorating, despite taking a couple of puffs from my Ventolin inhaler prior to running.  I do have allergies and they seem to be compounding my current breathing difficulties when running.

The long back straight along the Gosford waterfront
in each Six at Six lap

Anyway, I felt better than before last week's Six at Six, but was careful not to go off too fast when the 6km race started.  My pace was quite consistent, around 5:15 for each 1.2km lap, but I was really gasping for air in the last two laps and coughing lots.  As usual, the small concave hill in each lap really destroyed my rhythm, and if running with oxygen debt helps, then tonight was good training.  My time was about 30 seconds slower than two weeks ago, so was a little disappointing.  It just seems hard to believe that I can get fit enough to run minutes faster, yet that's what I must do.

It's also frustrating that I cannot keep up with friends over 6km, who I would normally be competitive with over 10km.  Of course, they may be running well, but most of my recent comebacks saw me more competitive more quickly.  On the positive side, my right Achilles and arch injuries weren't too bad tonight, although tomorrow morning's run will be the true test.

Racing injured

Two Peoples Bay, near where I stayed when I ran the
Albany Marathon in 1981

My right Achilles tendon and arch were both quite sore this morning, but that was to be expected after a long run, so I wasn't too worried.  In late morning I headed out in the warmth and sunshine for a 5km walk round Copa, taking care not to force the stiff and sore Achilles.  I felt quite flat after the rigours of yesterday's run and a late night (Terrigal Trotters Annual General Meeting).  My chest was still congested and I was glad a run wasn't scheduled for today.

I still intend to run the regular Six at Six tomorrow night and the 25km Woodford to Glenbrook trail race on Sunday, but it's hard to believe I'm going to run well in either.  I'm in the "stick to the plan and it will all work out" mode, which has generally served me well in the past, but not always.

Near the half-way point of the Albany Marathon course

Running injured is never much fun.  Non-runners often do not appreciate how frequently injuries afflict runners or how hard it can be to produce your best.  Back in 1981, I received an invitation to run in the Albany Marathon in Western Australia, with all expenses paid.  It was shortly after running second in the 1981 Big M Melbourne Marathon in 2:19:29, and I'm sure the organisers thought I would back up a month later with another sub-2:20, and a new course record in Albany.  Unknown to them, I had been carrying a serious Achilles tendon injury for some time and was already booked in for surgery four days after their race.  However, with the help of anti-inflammatories, I was still running, and was reluctant to pass up the chance of a free trip to the West.  I told them I couldn't guarantee anything faster than about 2:25 in a small race on an unknown course, and neglected to mention the upcoming surgery.

They organized the tickets and I travelled to Albany two days before the race, staying in a lovely guest house on a bay to the east of town.  My Achilles was very sore and I hadn't run further than 16km in three weeks.  Then, to my consternation, I developed a blister on a short training run, and through changing my gait, ended up with a painful locked muscle on the outside of my left shin.  I was having trouble walking, let alone running, but didn't feel I could, or should, say anything about my problems to the organisers.  I just hoped that I could win the event with a minimum of fuss, even if my time was slower than predicted.

My Race Certificate for the Albany Marathon

The day of the race was cool, overcast and blustery, and I was taken aback to find Dave Eltringham, a well-performed marathoner I knew from Melbourne, in the line-up.  He was a native of nearby Esperance and was home on vacation and to run the marathon.  I was starting to feel a lot of pressure.  When the gun fired, I quickly went to the lead at a solid clip, hoping any contenders (i.e., Dave) would give up early.  I was soon on my own, and after about 10km, relaxed the pace a little.  My Achilles hurt, my locked muscle was painful, I was having trouble running smoothly, and I just wanted it to all be over.

I reached the half-way point in exactly 1:12:30, and glanced over my shoulder, hoping nobody would be in sight.  Dave was a good runner, but with a best of just under 2:30, I hoped he would not be in contention at that pace in a minor marathon.  Alarmingly, he was less than 100 metres behind, obviously having a great run, and with me squarely in his sights.  I was not going to be able to coast the last half and tried to lift my tempo a little.  It was very hard work, made harder by some violent cold rain squalls and fierce winds in the last 10km.  The finish finally came into sight and I collapsed across the line in exactly 2:25:05, drenched, absolutely exhausted and in a lot of pain from my injuries.  Dave followed a minute or so later in a new Personal Best time.

The organizer commented that my time matched my pre-trip prediction almost exactly and that my two halves were perfectly even.  I could tell he thought it was just a "milk run" for me, where I had taken it as easily as I could whilst meeting my commitment.  In reality, it was one of the hardest races I ever ran, and one of those of which I am most proud.

.....some days are stone

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hunting joggers

Melbourne's Tan Track

The reasonably fast downhill trail sections in yesterday's Terrigal Trotters run, aggravated my right arch injury a little, and a stint of dancing at last night's Trotters 30th Anniversary celebration didn't help either. So, I set off for a slow 8km this morning with some trepidation.  My right Achilles tendon had also suffered yesterday and remained sore.

However, despite the need to favour my right leg for the first few kilometres until the injuries warmed up, I did feel a bit fresher and stronger than has been the case for the past few days.  The 8km Copa Circle route that I use has plenty of hills and I was pleased to find that, despite quite warm conditions, I coped quite easily.  It gives me a little confidence that I'm over the chest bug that has troubled me the last week, and also to try a longer run tomorrow.

About a third of the way around today's run, I spied a tall lean jogger a hundred metres ahead, running down the road with a small dog on a lead.  It was a lovely sunny and warm morning and I took him for one of the weekend visitors to Copa out for a Sunday morning run.  He wasn't going fast, and despite my own modest pace, I gradually hauled him in.  I confess that I'm never very happy being caught from behind when out for a run, particularly when it comes as a surprise, so when I'm doing the passing, I always try to make eye contact and say hello.

This morning, however, the jogger showed no inclination to make eye contact  or acknowledge me and immediately increased his pace, somewhat to the distress of the small dog.  I consciously avoided throwing down the gauntlet by increasing my pace, because I would have felt ridiculous, so we ran in tandem, each on his own side of the road, for what seems like a long time, but was probably only 500m or so.  We parted company when the road began to climb a short sharp hill and he gave up, as I suspected he would, after a 100 metres of straining to keep level.

We used to kid a fellow Kew Camberwell club-mate in Melbourne about one of his favourite lunchtime activities, "hunting" joggers.  Ray was a very good runner, with a best time of around 30 minutes for 10km, and worked as a public servant in the Melbourne central business district.  Like many city workers, Ray used to go for a lunchtime run around the Tan track, where he would delight in catching slower lunchtime runners from behind.  The runners, who were always men, and presumably suffering from excess testosterone, often sought to keep pace with Ray as he eased past.  Once Ray had the jogger on the hook, he just kept slowly increasing the pace until, with a gasp, they dropped off.  Very sadistic.

Anniversary

Start of the 1978 Bay to Breakers
(Central Coast Express, 31 August 1978)

Terrigal Trotters is celebrating it's 30th Anniversary today and began with a Relay Race, boys vs girls, from Gosford to Terrigal tracing the old Bay to Breakers Fun Run course.  I wasn't part of the team, which consisted of eleven runners, each running a one kilometre leg, but I was helping with the organisation and this required being in Terrigal before 4:30am this morning.

The teams were handicapped to ensure a close finish and were hoping to beat the times posted in the 20th Anniversary Relay and the respective men's and women's records for the old race.  The race started around 5:20am in Gosford and the finishers were cheered into the car park at Terrigal Surf Club around 6:00am by the 100 or so runners assembled for the regular 6:00am Trotters Saturday morning run.  The men just beat the women and the 20th Anniversary time, but neither side beat the race records.

Rob De Castella on his way to victory
(Central Coast Express, 31 August 1978)

I actually ran in the old Bay to Breakers 35 years ago, so before Terrigal Trotters actually formed.  I can't remember why I journeyed from Melbourne up to Gosford to run, but it wasn't with any expectations of winning prizes.  Although I was a competent Fun Runner, I was rarely on the podium, and particularly not in races where the prizes included overseas air travel as was the case for this race in 1978.

As it turned out, I was a long way behind Rob De Castella who won in 32:24 for the 11km distance.  Rob went on to a stellar marathon career, including a World Championship win in 1983.  I finished in 18th place in 36:00, which would have seemed disappointing at the time, but seems very fast to me now.

1978 Bay to Breakers results
(Central Coast Express, 31 August 1978)

After this morning's Relay, we all set off for the 15km run to the top of Kincumba Mountain and return.  I had a couple of puffs of Ventolin before starting in the hope that it would facilitate my breathing after a couple of tough days with a tight chest.  It did seem to help but my legs remained heavy and I still felt off-colour, possibly not helped by the early start to the day.  Anyway, I persevered and tried to maintain a reasonable pace for the whole run, despite a very sore right Achilles, and finished happy that I had made the distance.

It will be a late night tonight, with further Trotters Anniversary celebrations, so I will have an easy day tomorrow and hope that I'm up for a long run on Monday morning.  I really don't want the minor health problems of the past week to derail my plan for returning to fitness, and that means getting in a long run in the next two days.

Chicago

Lincoln Park, Chicago

I only had a short jog scheduled for today, anyway, but I still found it hard, with the same issues as yesterday - breathlessness, excessive sweating and lead-leggedness.  I don't feel too bad when I'm not running, just a little fatigued, so I'm hoping I'll be healthy again shortly.  There is a tough 15km run scheduled for Terrigal Trotters tomorrow, so that will be a test.  As soon as I feel I'm healthy and running well again, I'll put together a training plan for the Hobart Marathon in January, my next best chance of running a sub-3 hour marathon, having given up on running well in the Melbourne Marathon, in just six weeks time.

Not having much to write about today, I thought I would revisit another of the regular morning running courses from my past.  Between 1987 and 1990, I held joint responsibility with a colleague for setting up the North American operation of my company in Chicago.  For a while, my colleague, who was based in Stockholm (I was based near London), and I alternated our time in Chicago and mostly stayed in a corporate apartment we leased.

Prior to this assignment, I had only visited Chicago once, briefly, and didn’t hold it in very high regard.  However, as I spent more time there I grew to love it and now rate it as one of my favourite cities.  I liked the cleanliness and professional bustle of the city, the friendliness of the people, and its classical stone buildings offset by the towering skyscrapers.  Tucked away everywhere were atmospheric little bars and bistros.  From our apartment on the southern edges of the central business district, I also grew to love my regular Chicago early morning run.

Along the Lake Michigan waterfront
to Chicago

The route headed north through the early morning quiet of the business district, known as The Loop (where I would be working later in the day), and joined LaSalle Street which took me across the very unimpressive Chicago River, more like a large drain, and out of the city.  After the river, North LaSalle Street traversed a couple of kilometres of quiet inner suburbs of picturesque old houses and apartment blocks to the famed Lincoln Park.  From there, my route followed a network of gravel paths and horse rides before skirting the north side of little Diversey Harbor to reach the vast Lake Michigan and turn south for the return to the city.

For five kilometres the route followed perfectly flat concrete paths along the Lake and I can remember flying along here, passing joggers at speed on my good days.  At the southern end, the path was squeezed between the busy multi-lane Lakeshore Drive and the Lake and one winter I vividly recall being hit hard in the chest by the stream of snow blasted from the side of a snow plough travelling the opposite direction along the Drive.  I could see it coming but there was nowhere to go.

The Chicago waterfront on a windy day

The snow plough experience paled, however, compared to another winter experience I had in the same area.  There was no path, but it was possible to run along a sort of wide sloping concrete shelf that bordered the lake.  At the edge of the shelf was a vertical drop of about half a metre into the deep lake.  If it had been windy, waves broke over the concrete shelf, and if cold, the breaking waves would freeze on the concrete.  One morning I was running along there in the winter pre-dawn darkness, trying to dodge the iciest sections, when I slipped and fell.  It was bad enough landing on the rock hard ice, but soon I became aware of a worse fate.  I was sliding, on my back,  down the ice-covered concrete slope towards the drop-off into the semi-frozen lake.  I spread my arms, trying to reduce my weight and catch one of the icy ridges caused by the waves.  After about five metres, with about ten to go, I managed to stop myself and then very gingerly got onto my hands and knees and crawled up the slope and off the ice.  It was dark, there was nobody around, and I have often wondered how long it would have taken for them to find my body if I had gone into the lake.  There was no way I could have climbed out or survived long enough to swim to safety.  I continued to use the same route in winter, but ran very carefully, and as near the top of the concrete ledge as I could go, walking if necessary.

The last part of the run crossed the open parks in front of the Art Institute of Chicago and back to the city and the apartment.

As far as “garbage” runs go, this was quite a long course (16.5km), but it was flat and fast and usually took around an hour.  I experienced it in the rank humidity of a Chicago summer and the way-below-freezing temperatures of a Chicago winter, and have very fond memories of both.