Fatty acid catalyst?

The usual source of caffeine.

I'm successfully sticking to the caffeine limit I imposed on myself of 200mg or less a day (see blog post titled "Caffeine") after being diagnosed with an Atrial Flutter at the beginning of the year.  I do miss the "feel good" surge I used to get from that strong mug of coffee on days with an early start, but I don't miss the feeling that my blood pressure and heart rate were up.  Generally, I feel healthier without that caffeine and don't think I'll ever go back.

At the time of the blog post about caffeine, I mentioned that it is a legal stimulant that may have benefits for long-distance runners.  Apart from the value of heightened alertness and positive mood, there is evidence it plays a role in energy derivation.  I don't know when the research was first published, but sometime in the 1970s I read about the value of caffeine in releasing fatty acids into the blood stream.  In simplistic terms, as I understand it, during any long distance race, the body primarily derives its fuel from its glycogen stores.  This is the most efficient source of energy but supplies are finite and likely to be exhausted before the end of a marathon.  When the glycogen stores are gone, the body begins to burn fats, a much slower process.

The fatty acids stimulated by caffeine ingestion have been shown to bring fats into the energy fuel process earlier than otherwise, so that a marathon runner's stores of the more efficient glycogen will last longer, perhaps to fuel a late surge in the race.  I read somewhere that two strong cups of coffee about an hour before running was the best timing and dosage and I did try that a number of times during my marathon running heyday.  Of course you never know whether it makes any difference, and the risk is that when you can't do it for some reason (perhaps large race logistics) it can negatively impact your mental state.

I may be smiling, but I was very sick
after this Six Foot Track Marathon.

In recent years, I haven't worried about pre-race caffeine ingestion.  One reason is the negative experience I had in the Six Foot Track Marathon a few years ago, when I was fit enough to do very well for my age.  I drank too much caffeine beforehand and was feeling "wired" by the time the race started.  I never felt good as the race progressed and had difficulty in drinking fluids at the feeding stations.  When I finished, I felt very sick, though didn't accept offered medical assistance.  I just sat in a corner for two hours not doing anything until I felt my equilibrium begin to return and I could start sipping some fluids.

I don't doubt that there are benefits as the research has shown, but to get them, there are factors such as runner weight, usual caffeine consumption, timing, etc., that need to be accounted for in developing the optimal plan.  Now that I'm sticking to my new caffeine-limited regime, I doubt that I'll worry about taking pre-race caffeine.  In fact, I have always felt that if you train over the distances you plan to race, your body will adapt to become more efficient at fuel stores and sourcing anyway.  The more you depend on some pre-race rituals - caffeine ingestion, carbo-loading, sleep - the more likely you are to come mentally unstuck if you can't follow them as planned.

I ran a variation on my usual post-track session 11km this morning, running the length of North Avoca beach and the steep climb up Coast Road instead of the usual climb up Tramway Road.  I felt fatigued right from the start, mostly in the legs, so took it easy.  I have a demanding running schedule for the next three days, and the fresher I can be tomorrow, the better.

Managing the Achilles

Today's flat even road run passing through Avoca Beach
took the pressure off my painful Achilles tendon injury.

For a year now, whenever I have been able to run consistently for a few weeks, my right Achilles tendon has become painful.  Achilles injuries have been the bane of my running life.  I guess there were deficiencies in my genetic design and an addiction to distance running didn't help.

The only long-term relief I have experienced came from major surgeries in which the tendon was cleaned up, the bursa removed, a heel spur removed and a corner of my heel bone cut off.  This was done to my left heel in my thirties and my right heel in my fifties and on both occasions it took a long time to recover.  Two earlier, less radical, surgeries on the left heel only gave relief for a couple of years each time.

Today's run included this flat section
approaching McMasters Beach.

Of course, surgery is the last resort, especially if it's going to stop you running for more than a year.  To avoid surgery, I have tried just about every possible treatment  - ice packs, massage, cortisone injections, post-run cold running water, anti-inflammatories, stretching, orthotics, heel raises, shoe heel cut-outs, running on flat surfaces, avoiding hills, doughnut bandages, alternating shoes - apart from retirement from long distance running.  My conclusion is that none of these non-surgical treatments provides a permanent solution.

At best, they are delaying actions, and that's what I feel I have been doing with my current right Achilles problem.  For a while the Hoka shoes seemed to place less strain on the Achilles (but more strain on my bad right knee).  Now, even they don't seem to provide relief.  My heel became very sore on Monday's long trail run wearing the Hokas.  For today's 15km run, I changed back to my Nike shoes and stayed on the road.  The heel was sore but didn't get worse, although I was running slowly.

I really don't want to have more surgery, so I guess I'll keep trying most things that provide temporary relief, short of cortisone or anti-inflammatories.  They just mask the problem while you do more damage.

Reliving Boston 1982

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

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

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

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

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

The Prudential Center basement carpark
after the 1982 Boston Marathon.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pindar Cave

Climbing the trail from Wondabyne Station.

Nothing like the prospect of running somewhere new and interesting to get you out of bed in the morning.  One of my Terrigal Trotters club-mates had proposed an Easter Monday trail run with a difference, and I put my name on the list.  Nine of us met at Woy Woy Railway Station and caught the 7:23am Sydney-bound train, asking the guard to stop the train at Wondabyne as we boarded.  Wondabyne is unique, a request-only station with a platform just one carriage in length at the water's edge, accessible only by train, boat or on foot.

Looking towards the Hawkesbury River and Dangar Island
from the Pindar Cave trail.

It was clear cool and sunny as we set out from the station into Brisbane Water National Park and the chatter soon died as the steep climb took its toll.  We reached the plateau and after a kilometre, took an unmarked firetrail westwards towards Pindar Cave, a place I had never visited.

Pindar Cave.

The running became more challenging as the firetrail ended and we followed an unmaintained overgrown and scrubby foot trail.  It was narrow enough that I had to keep my head down to take the brunt of the overhanging scrub, ever ready to protect my eyes, while legs, knees and arms were scratched by prickly undergrowth.  It was dour slow running and seemed to go on forever, but it was an adventure.  There was an excellent view point en route looking south to the Hawkesbury River, and after a couple of unintended detours in the thick vegetation, we found our way to the very impressive cave, a massive sandstone overhang.  There, we surprised a family camped with a breakfast fire burning and took a break to enjoy the cavernous space, before starting the return trip.

Approaching Mount Wondabyne.

On the way out we rescued the balance of our party who had lost their way by shouting directions to help them return to the trail through the wiry scrub.  More good-natured banter.  Soon we were back on the familiar Great North Walk trail and heading eastwards towards Mount Wondabyne via a mix of technical single track, sandstone slabs, firetrail and the cool glen beneath Kariong Creek falls.

Looking down to Wondabyne Station from the top
of Mount Wondabyne.

We made the short detour to the top of Mount Wondabyne where the 360° views were exceptional.  Our starting point, Wondabyne Station, was visible way below, seemingly a stone's throw away, and it was hard to believe it had taken us so long to get to our present location.

The remainder of the run was a little ordinary, especially the sections past the Woy Woy Waste Transfer Station and the sewerage treatment plant followed by a couple of kilometres through the town, and it became quite warm.  By the time I reached my car, four hours after we had started running, I was ready to stop.  However, it was more the pain in my right Achilles and knee that were the problem rather than fatigue.  I didn't feel exhausted, and felt lucky to have enjoyed a beautiful day in the bush, visiting new places in the company of friends.  Wondabyne to Woy Woy via Pindar Cave 25km.

Bogong to Hotham

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

During the weather-shortened 2012
Bogong to Hotham race.

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

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

During the weather-shortened 2912
Bogong to Hotham race.

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

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

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

Leon's Run

Yass Golf Club.

No running yesterday, just the drive back to Copa from the mountains with a stop for nine holes of golf at Yass on a beautiful day on a very pleasant course.  I knew I needed time to recover from Thursday's longish trail run and have found that an easy walk of five kilometres or so (even if punctuated by some terrible golf shots) is a good way to work out some of the stiffness.

It's confronting, in my sixties, to compare how long it takes to get over a long hard run these days compared to thirty years ago.  There was always fatigue and some stiffness the next day, but these days I'm practically immobile when I first get up, walking extra carefully and slowly downstairs and limping to avoid undue stress on damaged joints.  I sometimes wonder if it's a portent of life in my eighties, if I make it that far.

Glimpses of Gosford from atop Kincumba Mountain.

On the other hand, it's gratifying and often surprising to find how much improvement comes with just a day's rest or easy walking.  The thought of running yesterday had no appeal whatsoever, while today I was keen to see whether the improved strength I felt running up hills on Thursday was real or imaginary.  Although still moving gingerly after my 4:30am rising, I had confidence based on experience that once I started running I would loosen up and feel fresher.

Part of the level fire-trail atop
Kincumba Mountain.

Today's Terrigal Trotters run was the popular 14.7km "Leon's Run" from the beach to the top of Kincumba Mountain and return on a mix of road and fire-trail.  I think it's popularity stems not only from the sense of accomplishment in running to the top of the mountain (and the ensuing exhilarating descent), but also from the contrasts it offers en route - starting from the surf-lapped beach, often in the dark, and traversing sleepy suburbia to reach the forests of the mountain in the early light.  It's a serious climb, but then you get to enjoy three kilometres of  relatively level running to the turnaround point and back along the mountain crest during which you get to say hello to your clubmates travelling in the opposite direction.  If you're having a bad day, you get to see how far they are in front and who's catching you, and if you're having a good day, you get to impress those following and see who in front might be caught.

I had a good day today, considering the past four months, despite wondering a couple of times whether I could sense undue pressure in my chest during the harder parts of the ascent.  Each time, I backed off just a little so my breathing didn't become too laboured, but suspect it was just my imagination.  I definitely ran my best since the heart and lung ailments of Christmas, though there remains plenty of room for improvement.  The tank was empty for the last few kilometres.

Henry Angel

The Hume & Hovell Track.

Today's plan was to run another interesting section of the Hume & Hovell Track, this time about 18km return southwards from Henry Angel Trackhead (named after a member of the Hume & Hovell exploration party).  Both Sharon and I were quite tired after the previous two days of trail running, so we agreed to run outwards until we had had enough and then run back.

The Hume & Hovell Track.

The first part of the trail followed a creek downstream across farmland.  The foot trail was narrow and wet with dew, but the crisp sunny morning and the autumnal colours cloaking the trees bordering the creek, made it special.  The creek had been mined for gold 150 years ago, and there were lots of signposts pointing out where channels and a tunnel had been blasted out of the rocks to create races, and other mining-related artifacts.  This added another dimension to the lovely track.

At Big Hill Lookout.

After a few kilometres, we took a small detour to a lookout on Big Hill, where the Australian Alps could be seen in the distance, before returning to the trail and descending more steeply beside the cascading creek.  At 6km we crossed the Tumbarumba Creek on a shaking steel footbridge and then began a steady and often technical climb up the side of Mount Garland through Bogandyera Nature Reserve.  The trail was often precariously narrow as it made its way up the sides of steep ravines.  A trip and fall may not have been fatal, but it would be serious, and I took great care.

Crossing Tumbarumba Creek.

In all the climb was 330m over 3.5km and mostly runnable.  I was pleased that I felt fit enough to run steadily all the way up, even if it was not fast.  It was good to feel that my cardiovascular system was coping with the demands.  Eventually I reached a high point after 9.5km, and after a brief break, headed back down, chasing Sharon who had turned back earlier.  Actually, "following" might be a better word than "chasing", because it wasn't a trail for an old bloke with dicey joints to be racing down, but I enjoyed the long descent after the sweaty climb, taking in viewpoints here and there.

I was a little worried I might run out of steam on the climb back to the start point, given how technical the trail had been, but I finished strongly feeling that I am fitter than a couple of weeks ago.  Later we played nine holes of golf on a very rough and hilly country course and the fatigue started to kick in then, but it's been a great few days of running.

Blowering Damn

Crossing the Tumut River below
Blowering Dam.

After a 40km run yesterday, I would normally just go for a walk today.  But, since we are on vacation in a beautiful part of the world, I made an exception.

The plan was to run an easy 10-15km out-and-back along what I remembered to be a lovely section of the Hume & Hovell Track, following the contours high above the water of picturesque Blowering Dam surrounded by high forested mountains.  Unfortunately, little worked out as planned.

Setting out along the shores of
Blowering Dam.

Firstly, the road to the carpark beneath the dam wall, from where we hoped to start the run, was closed.  There was an alternative starting place on another road, but this meant parking two kilometres from the dam.  I was expecting to struggle, with a very sore right Achilles and knee along with general stiffness, so the thought of adding four kilometres to the run wasn't very appealing.

Dealing with bushfire deadfalls
along the trail.

The weather was again superb - cool, clear and sunny - which made my slow painful plod a little more bearable.  However, Sharon had recovered from yesterday's exertions better than me, and I was always trailing behind.  We reached the Dam wall and followed the hiking trail up the side to an overlook before connecting with the trail heading south high above the water line.

This was supposed to be the best part of the run, but unfortunately there had been a bushfire in the summer and it was totally different to my memory.  Apart from blackened trees and charred leaves and bushes, many trees had fallen across the trail causing us to make frequent stops to clamber around or through the charred trunks and branches.  It spoiled the run and we turned back earlier than planned.  Although I was very disappointed at the state of the trail, the shorter distance was probably to my advantage.  We will both be a bit fresher for tomorrow's planned run, and my chronic injuries should be less painful.

Paddy's River Dam

Paddy's River Dam.

Yesterday's exercise was just nine holes of golf at Tumut, about 5km of walking the way I play, after driving south from Copa for about six hours.  It was my plan to have a couple of days off running after hurting my hip on Saturday morning, and I was happy to find it didn't trouble me at all during the golf.

On the trail in Bago State Forest.

Today's exercise was much more ambitious.  Sharon and I are staying in Batlow (famous for its apples) for most of the week and plan to do some running each day.  Today's run was intended to be 31km loop incorporating a beautiful 15km section of the Hume & Hovell Track that I hiked a year ago, but it didn't quite work out that way.

Forestry Road in Bago State Forest.

Our start point was the serene Paddy's River Dam, a mirror smooth body of water reflecting alpine forest and clear skies, and I missed the first turn we had to make, adding 1.5km to our itinerary.  However, we were unconcerned as we tackled the correct single track trail which meandered through the snow gum forest and across grassy clearings on a cool, perfectly still, morning.  It was just a magic morning and we had it all to ourselves.

On the Hume & Hovell Track.

The run went to plan most of the way until we missed a trail, which was probably overgrown, and ended up following another firetrail which seemed to go on and on, much longer than expected.  Sharon began to doubt my navigation skills, but I was confident we were headed in the right direction, even if we were on the wrong trail.  Eventually we reached an intersection with the Hume & Hovell Track, further north than intended, and calculated we had about 10km to finish, making the total distance closer to 40km.

Although my cardiovascular system seemed to be coping fine, my back and joints had had enough, and it was a slow slog back to our car, made more tolerable by the continuing superb scenery and weather.

All in all it took us nearly six hours, but we stopped a few times and walked some of the hills in the last 10km.  Time wasn't a consideration as neither of us is as fit as we would like.  We just wanted a nice long run through some superb country and we got that.  As a bonus, Sharon disturbed a small group of brumbies (wild horses) at one point, and we saw kangaroos, an emu and an echidna while driving through the forest.

Kosciusko

Looking down the Thredbo River valley towards
the village.

As mentioned in yesterday's blog post, Sharon and I are heading for the mountains tomorrow and are hoping to enjoy a few trail runs.  They won't be at an altitude sufficient to impact running, but it will be less humid and cooler than the Central Coast of the past few months.  I find cooler temperatures always make running more enjoyable as does running in the mountains.

Looking towards Mount Kosciusko.

The mountains in Australia aren't that high, by global standards.  But, on the positive side, they tend to have runnable trails to their summits, providing scenic routes for inspiring running.  The ski resort of Thredbo, in Kosciusko National Park, offers a number of running options, of which my favourite is a 45km route that includes a visit to the summit of Mt Kosciusko (2,221m), Australia's highest mountain.

The steel mesh track to Mount Kosciusko.

The run starts in the Thredbo Village and follows the Thredbo River Track upstream, initially past the golf course and then through a mix of alpine forest and open clearings to a saddle, Dead Horse Gap.  A right turn takes you onto the Dead Horse Gap Trail, an occasionally technical single track which climbs above the treeline along a rocky spur.  If the weather is clear, there are beautiful views in multiple directions.  Near the top of the spur, the trail goes close to the Thredbo Chairlift Top Station and joins the main trail from there towards Kosciusko.  To preserve the alpine environment, nearly all of the next four kilometres is along an elevated steel walkway, with signs at either end prohibiting running.  If you start early enough, you will beat the first chairlift tourists of the day and have the place to yourself on this outward leg and be able to run without the risk of causing annoyance to hikers.  If later, however, you have to make a judgment about whether or not you will get into trouble.

The panorama from Mount Kosciusko.

Soon after the mesh pathway ends, about 14km into the run, the turn-off to the summit of Kosciusko is reached and it's worth making the 2km (there and back) detour to enjoy one of the best views in Australia.  Returning to the Main Range Track, which follows the alpine ridge to the north-east, more spectacular vistas stretch in all directions, and particularly over the precipitous descent towards the Geehi River to the north-west.  At around 23km, another right turn is made to descend steeply towards Blue Lake and Charlotte Pass, all above the tree-line.  There is a short steep climb from the Snowy River up to the Pass where the old road back towards Kosciusko is reached and followed gradually upwards back to the steel mesh pathway.

The Main Range Track.

Depending on the hiker traffic, it may be necessary to walk the pathway back to the Chairlift Top Station, but from there a steep and often technical descent, criss-crossing the ski runs, is made on single track back to Thredbo and the end of the run.  It's a long run, and much of it is at an altitude high enough to impact oxygen levels, but it provides some of the best scenery available in Australia on a clear day.

I took no chances with the minor hip trouble I had yesterday, and walked an easy 5km on a blustery and showery day around Copa this morning.  The hip didn't bother me at all, and I'm hopeful that after another day of walking tomorrow I will be up for a long trail run the day after.

Minor disappointment

Descending into Erina Valley along Worthing Road.

I'm far from fit, and suspected I would find the Terrigal Trotters run this morning hard.  The 11km course, Fragrant Gardens/Erina Valley, has some significant hills, as do most in this area.  I have felt lethargic and unfit most of this week, for no particular reason, so I ran 1.5km for a warm-up in the futile hope of generating some enthusiasm and form.

Despite the warm-up, I was still near the back of the pack as the 100 or so runners left the Terrigal Surf Club car park, and only started passing a few people when we hit the first significant hill a few kilometres later.  I felt like I was struggling, but still managed to pass a number of clubmates on the climb and picked up some momentum over the crest.  I tried not to think about how strongly I have run the Terrigal Drive hill in the last few years.  It has just the right gradient to permit fast running all the way to the top if you are in shape.

Hastings Road always presents
some challenges.

Just as I was anticipating reeling in a few more people as we descended into the Erina Valley, I rounded a corner and felt a sharp pain in my right hip and shooting pain in my right "glute".  After another 100 metres, with the pain persisting, I decided it was wise to stop and do some stretching to see if I could ease the pain.  It felt like a trapped nerve, but maybe not.

Of course, a number of friends catching me from behind while I stretched and walked expressed concern that I had a recurrence of my lung or heart problems.  I explained that, happily(?), it was just a run-of-the-mill running injury.  I resumed running, with less pain, after a couple of minutes and pretty much jogged the remainder of the course.

It doesn't feel like I have torn anything, but I will take it easy for a few days to let any inflammation settle down.  Sharon and I are spending most of next week in the foothills of the Snowy Mountains, and I have been looking forward to some nice long trail runs on parts of the Hume & Hovell Walking Track I hiked this time last year.

Organ Pipe Cactii

Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument.

Continuing my reprise of memorable places I ran during a year-long tour of the US and Canada in 1985-86, the Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument, bordering Mexico in Arizona is high on the list.

An organ pipe cactus.

Like many runners, one of the first things I do on reaching any destination is get hold of a map and work out whether there are any appealing places to run.  Sometimes, a trail or road loop jumps out as a very attractive option, and this was the case on the Organ Pipe Cactus NM park map.  I was planning a long run and there, on the map, beckoning, was the 21 Mile Ajo Mountain Loop Road.

Saguaro cactii in the Sonoran desert of the Organ
Pipe Cactus National Monument.

Unfortunately, the park campground was full and we had to stay further south in a commercial campground right on the border, literally, with Mexico.  The next morning we drove back to the park's Visitor Centre and I set out on the unpaved one-way road loop on a beautiful clear sunny day.  Although it was at the height of the season - early Spring in the Sonoran desert - and the campgrounds were full, many of the visitors were "snowbirds', refugees from the northern winter in huge recreation vehicles.  Such vehicles were prohibited from the tourist road loop, which was narrow and rough in parts, meaning that traffic was light.

Sonoran desert landscape in Organ Pipe Cactus
National Monument.

The route meandered through stereotypical desert country, dominated by the unique organ pipe and saguaro cactii, as it gradually climbed towards Mt Ajo (4,808').  After looping around the Diablo Mountains, past rocky canyons straight out of a Western movie, it descended slowly back towards the Visitor Centre, frequently offering grand vistas stretching all the way into Mexico.  I was quite fit at the time and the run was easy and very enjoyable.

In contrast, my run today was a slow 5km on stiff and sore legs around Copa.  It took the whole 5km to warm up enough to run smoothly.  Maybe it's age, or lack of fitness, or excess weight, it's hard to tell.  Although I'm running better than six weeks ago, I still have a long way to go.

Garbage Runs

Gradual downhill along the Scenic Highway.

In many of my blog posts I have spoken about the "garbage runs" that all runners have as a regular part of their routine.  These are the runs you do between your quality sessions, and are often done just so that you get some daily running in.  They burn calories and keep the cardiovascular system ticking over, but aren't run hard and rarely leave you exhausted.  In my case they are usually 10-12km and have been that way throughout my 45 year running career.  Of course, in my prime there were often two "garbage runs" on "recovery" days, and at least one on "quality" days.

Stretching out along Avoca Drive.

One of my favourite "garbage runs" of the last six or seven years has been the 11km loop I run after supervising the Thursday morning track sessions at The Haven.  This morning, I was pondering why it has become a favourite, especially since at least half is along busy roads.  I think there are several factors.  The first is that it starts up a couple of quite steep hills where, because I'm not warmed up, I don't feel any pressure to run hard.  Instead, I adopt a comfortable pace, running within myself and reach the top warmed up and in good shape.  In the last decade I have noticed that it takes a hill or two to warm me up for any run, so these early hills are well-placed.

The long grind up Tramway.

The course levels out at the top of the hill, the running becomes easier and my pace increases.  After a kilometre or so comes several kilometres of gradual downhill, and by this time, being well warmed up, I generally stretch out to less than 5 min/km pace along the rural road.  It's always satisfying to feel that you're running fast (relatively), even if aided by the gradient, and I reach the bottom of the hill at a good clip.

Starting the final descent back to The Haven.

Then comes two kilometres of mostly straight flat running beside Avoca Lagoon, and I usually find that I can maintain the speed built on the previous section if I concentrate on holding good form and not overdoing it.  At the end of those two kilometres I reach the beach and cross the closed mouth of the lagoon, giving myself permission to ease off the pace on the often soft sand.  After a flat grassy section bordering the northern side of the lagoon comes the climb up Tramway which is always a challenge.  It has steeper and easier sections, but is always climbing and it's a relief to reach the crest.

Almost back to The Haven.

From the crest comes a kilometre or so of mostly downhill running back to The Haven with expansive views north along the coast.  It's easy to pick up the pace again and finish strongly.  Perhaps the most enjoyable part of the run is the slow warm-down walk I take around the perimeter of The Haven reserve, watching the other exercisers, the cars heading off to work in the distance, and the ever-interesting wave-pounded coastline.

The run this morning took 56 minutes which continues the steady improvement in my times over this course since I resumed running seven weeks ago.  Still a long way short of my quickest (51 minutes) but nearing my average (55 minutes).  If I could just lose those extra three kilograms I think I would be there.

1982 Montreal International Marathon

Finishing the 1982 Montreal International
Marathon (46th, 2:29).

Just an easy 10km on some trails and the beach for training today.  After the comfortable 15km yesterday, I would have expected to feel better this morning, and was a little worried by how hard the early kilometres were.  In fact, I wondered whether there had been a recurrence of the heart problem, although I wasn't aware of any palpitations.  I did manage to run up one of my benchmark hills, and actually felt better after that, although my overall time for the regular Little Beach course was slow.  I'll be interested to see how I feel tomorrow morning.

Another occasion when my running didn't match my expectations was the 1982 Montreal International Marathon, although every other aspect of the event was exciting and memorable.  I wrote an article about it for the Kew Camberwell running club newsletter.
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1982 MONTREAL INTERNATIONAL MARATHON - David Byrnes

As a consequence of my 2:19 in last year's Big M Marathon, I was fortunate enough to be selected in the Australian team for the Montreal International Marathon to be held on 30 May 1982.  As this was my first Australian singlet, I was, of course, very pleased and determined to do well.  However, my chronic achilles tendon injury caused me to avoid racing for the six weeks before the race and this lack of speed-work, in combination with some medication I was taking for the injury resulted in one of my poorest performances ever - 46th place in 2:29.  It was particularly disappointing because, despite the injury, my training form was very good and I knew I was in better shape than when I ran 2:22 in the Boston Marathon some six weeks earlier.

Looking over Montreal from Mount Royal.

My performance clouded what was otherwise an enjoyable and unique experience.  The Australian team, consisting of John Stanley, Graeme Kennedy, Garry Hand and myself, arrived in Montreal six days before the event and were met by representatives of the organisers.  Of the total budget of $1.5 million for the event, $300,000 was spent on airfares to bring some one hundred athletes to the event and all were to be accorded the same star, or 'elite' status which we enjoyed.  Our hotel, the Sheraton, had only been open for six weeks and our $130 a day rooms on the 20th floor left nothing to be desired.  The race administration had taken over the whole 7th floor and provided, for the 'elite', a 'hospitality' room which contained a bottomless fridge (always full of beer, coke, yoghurt and other goodies), magazines, coffee and so on.  Another 'entertainment' room was stocked with video and other games for our amusement and a third 'dining' room had breakfast and dinner available for us all at no cost.  In addition the Province of Quebec provided six or seven hostesses and hosts to look after us.  Amongst other things, they organised sightseeing tours by bus and boat, trips to the baseball and soccer (both in the 1976 Olympic Stadium), to the races, to a rock concert and so on.  Since only two teams (the Australian men and French women's) plus a few other individuals were in Montreal for the first few days, we received almost individual attention from the organisers.  In addition, we had VIP seats and everything laid on at all these events since they were sponsored by Molson's Brewery which was also sponsoring the Marathon.

Jacques Cartier Bridge, Montreal.

Early during our stay, Serge Arsenault, the race director, called our team to a private meeting and after explaining the race details, informed us of our $30 a day living allowance and went on to list the prizes available for the race.  First place would earn $10,000 down to tenth place $500 with performance bonuses of $750 for each minute under 2:15 as well as $5,000 for the first team, $3,000 for second and $1,000 for third.  He then asked how we wanted prize money paid should we be lucky enough -in cash, by cheque, or to our national association.  In the event, the Australian team came second behind Italy in the teams race and John Stanley, our nominated manager, collected three crisp $1,000 notes (which were later deliveved to the AAU).

There is practically no dividing line between professional and amateur athletes in North America now and Benji Durden (USA), who won the race in 2:13, openly admitted that he won $35,000 in cash last year in the U.S.

Montreal Olympic Stadium.

Montreal is a predominantly French-speaking city of some 3 million people on an island in the St Lawrence River.  The dominant feature of the city is the tree-covered Mount Royal (MontReal in French) which provided good training territory only a kilometre from our hotel.  For our entire stay the weather was warm and humid which made training a sweaty affair but was otherwise very pleasant for looking around.  The day of the race was no exception and a 6:30 am news bulletin informed us that it was 20°C and rising.  During the race it was sunny and very humid with temperatures recorded at 30°C along the course.  However, it was not the temperature which affected me.  I started badly, running 16:30 for the first 5km, 17:30 for the second and 18:00 almost exactly for each 5km thereafter.  Of course by 10km I was already almost three minutes down on the leaders and spent the rest of the race wishing I was home in bed but not daring to pull out.

Because of my slow start, I don't think anyone passed me after about 10km and as the heat took its toll, my place improved rapidly - 90th at half-way, 46th at the finish - however this was no consolation at all.  My team-mates performed well with the exception of Gary Henry (who joined the team from the U.S. where he had been studying) and the results were as follows:
     16.  Graeme Kennedy - 2:19
     20.  Gary Hand - 2:20
     24.  John Stanley – 2:21
     41.  Gary Henry – 2:28
     46.  Dave Byrnes – 2:29.

The main reason we came second in the teams race was the casualty rate in the other national teams, many of whom had insufficient finishers to count.

The race, similar to our Big M Marathon, was a mass participation event. However, to make the organisation manageable only the first 12,000 entries were accepted!  The race started on the giant Jacques Cartier Bridge across the St Lawrence Seaway and ran through the suburbs out around the 1976 Olympic Village and Stadium before returning to pass through the central city area.  It then proceeded out on to two islands in the Seaway, circling the Canadian Grand Prix circuit, and passing through the World Expo site to the finish.  Unfortunately there was little crowd support over the last 10 kilometres (where it was most needed) in contrast to the first 30 where the route was lined with people.  Although, it must be said, that unless you were recognised as a 'Quebecois' (from the province of Quebec), runner the support was somewhat muted.

The evening of the race there was a dinner and disco for the elite athletes and organisers which was enjoyed by all and then after a day to rest up, we returned to Australia - a 48 hour trip.