Week 11 – The Run

This week has been all about the preparation, not so much the running, ( I did two light runs 4ks and 6ks) but nutrition and hydration.  What to eat, when to eat and how much to drink.  How am I feeling, did I run far enough, have I rested enough.  I’m pretty sure I ran the race three times over on Friday night.  Didn’t sleep much!  I eventually came to the conclusion I had done everything I could, it was now a matter of go and do it.

Standing at the start line this morning I felt confident in making the distance but still had those same feelings I had just prior to jumping out of a plane. “What the hell am I doing here? And how do I get out of it?  But again I had come too far to go back out.  There was only one way to go and that was forwards.

When I said, I was standing on the start line, we were actually in a crowd of 12,000 people, some 200 odd metres behind the line.  As I looked around there were all shapes and sizes, a myriad of colours and a variety of ages, and that was just the gear everyone had.  I estimated there would be about $5M of sporting apparel cross the start line. (That’s just the way my mind works, everything comes down to the numbers).  If you add the thousands of i products that came along for the ride, you could probably double that figure.

It took almost five minutes to cross the start line once the gun had gone off.  The first 2 or 3 ks was shoulder to shoulder, jostling for a bit of clear space ahead of you.  The pace was quite slow through all this, which actually worked out well as most of it was uphill.  At this stage it was a bit of an obstacle course, not only did you need to focus on the runners all around but the traffic islands and speed bumps, even the reflectors in the road were a trap for ankles.  Worst of all though was the water stations, not only did you have to negotiate the people weaving in and out, but the carpet of disposable cups for 100mtrs after each station

At this point the enormity of the crowd became obvious.  There were bodies the entire width of the road as far as the eye could see.  I thought I managed to pass a lot of people, but it was still much the same two hours later.  I felt a little insignificant as I looked around the other runners.  I never had any writing on my shirt!  I wasn’t a member of a club, sponsored by anyone, running for a cause, not even “doing it for the kids”.  I was just all about me.

I felt pretty good through the first half of the event, out St Kilda Rd and heading around Albert Park Lake, but it was still pleasing to come round the far end of the lake and go through the 10k marker, now you were heading for home.  It was a bit difficult to take in the scenery around the lake, pit lane or various stadiums you just had to focus on the job in front of you.

Turning back onto St Kilda Rd, about 14ks down, you knew you were into the final stages.  The crowds had built up around this area and were cheering and clapping.  I wondered of it was just that moment that they saw someone they knew, or were they prepared to do that for two hours.

About 15ks the legs started to go a bit rubbery.  Another magic energy gel at this point would hopefully get me home.  At about this point they sent us on some detour, under the arts centre and around the domain.  I didn’t think that was the shortest way to the finish.  Eventually back over Princess Bridge and down through Birrung Marr.  Now for the one I had been fearing for weeks.  William Barrack Bridge, a nasty long climb up and over our starting point, not a great thing this close to the finish.

With less than one km to go I had one eye on the clock and the other looking for the finish line.  I still had a little bit left so was able to make a bit of a surge to the finish.  Still feeling pretty good, but the elation of crossing the line took out anything I might have left in the legs.  It was a wobbly walk until my personal crowd gave me a big cheer about 50mtrs after the finish line.  The satisfaction of collecting my “participation medal” was almost matched by getting a water and a banana.

Six months ago I had to nominate an expected finish time and suggested two hours, not knowing whether I could even run the distance let alone make any time.  Today I had completed the 21.1km in 1:59:34, just under my goal.  (For those into the stats, that’s 5:33 per km or 10.6kph).  For the record I was 2859^th Male and 280^th in my category.

I’m not exactly sure now why I set this to be the major challenge of my last days as a forty something, but I was ecstatic with the day’s events, even thrilled with the way I had run.  No injuries, nothing ached, no lasting ill effects.  This was the perfect run in beautiful conditions and will certainly be an achievement I’ll dine out on for a long time.

By the way, the two people that inspired all this running two years ago also did the half with me yesterday.  Both achieved great times of 1:43 and 2:34.  Sill being inspirational, but curse them anyway.

Now, late on Sunday I think I’ve pulled up pretty well, a bit stiff but nothing too painful.  I may still be running on an emotional high that might come crashing down in the next couple of days.

 

I have been asked several times already, What’s next?

Come back next year and do the full?            Nah, been there (1/2) done that.

Jump on the bike and hit the road?                Mmmm Maybe

There’s always a Triathlon.                             Yeah, but I have to leave something for my 60^th.

 

For now it will be a week of quiet celebration (part 12 of 18) for my birthday then on off on a holiday next week.  Hopefully that is just a slow walk on the beach, definitely NO RUNNING.

Thanks to everyone that followed me to the finish line.

Week 10 – The End

I maybe on the road to a half marathon, but we are also half way through a marathon celebration of our 50th birthdays.  It all started in early September and will continue in various styles until the 9th of November.  Saturday night was the peak of those celebrations with a “family dinner” that bought both our families together.  While it was great to spend time with the ones you love there is always the shadow of an upcoming 21km run over everything you do.

I had to change the route of my run this week to get the right distance.  I ran past my old high school, my old footy ground and my childhood home.  It felt like a cross between a lap of honour and a funeral cortèg

My last major training run of this campaign yesterday, and in the interest of tapering, was only 12ks. Just 28kms for the week.  Every run I do is still hard work, it certainly hasn’t got easy, but I do feel better, even over longer distances.  A couple of short runs this week, maybe a 4k and an 8k, will see the training over and lead me to the start of the event.  I am confident about going the distance, it’s just a matter of how long it takes, and what condition I’m in at the finish.

I’ve been driving to work, Terang to Camperdown, 23ks, for more than 30 years.  It has only been this week that I’ve realised I would actually be able to run the distance.  I’d have to leave two hours earlier and wouldn’t get much done once I got there, but I could get there.

As many of you would know I’m a numbers man at heart so here’s some for the fans.  In the past four months I’ve run over 450km. That’s Melbourne and back.  Although all this started out as a weight loss exercise I’ve actually put on more the 5kgs.  There’s been one rule I’ve had in the back of my head all this time, When the running stops so does the eating!  Six meals a days can’t continue when I go back to just sitting behind a desk.  This week though, I’m supposed to increase my carb intake even further.  I’m not sure how I’m going to fit it in, but I’ll keep trying.

For a guy who’s never been big on writing I’ve actually enjoyed doing this blog.  It has acted as a distraction while I’ve been running.  Thinking about what happened for the week and how the story goes, has taken away from the pain.

So, if you hear from me next week, you know I’ve made it!

 

See you all at the finish.

 

5 days to go.

Week 9 – The Descent

The thought of doing a half marathon had come from events from years ago.  The tradition of celebrating a significant birthday with a major achievement had been created 10 years ago.  The second event that was a significant part of our 40th birthday celebrations was a group event.  A core group of high school mates that had remained thick throughout the preceding 20 odd years.

All of us and our spouses turned 40 over the space of two years.  We had decided that while this wasn’t to be be the end of life as we know it, we needed to acknowledge our 40th with one final physical achievement.

The whole exercise thing was softened by the addition of a child free weekend in Halls Gap.  While we are a group that doesn’t spend a lot of time together, we have remained in regular contact.  Anytime we had got together it was as if nothing had changed. Same friendships, same banter, same reminiscing, even same jokes.  It was great to be able to spend some quality time with great friends, some of whom I had known for all of 35 years.

The feature of the weekend was to be a challenge that would test all of us old folk, physically and mentally.  Absailing!  Many of the group weren’t exactly adventurous, even in our youth, so the idea of going over the edge of cliff was absolutely terrifying.  Right up to this moment there were still a few that were undecided if they would participate.

We had met up with our guide and trekked  into some remote part of the grampians, got the gear set up and received instructions about what was required.  It was decided that I would be first, as I was the only one that had done it before.  This didn’t really help as the previous time had been more than twenty years earlier.  Back then I had a different body and a different mindset.

As with the skydiving earlier, there is a time between, receiving the safety talk and putting on the uncomfortable harness, and actually doing the deed, that you get the time to think, “What am I doing here?”  Standing on the edge of the cliff looking down at the rocks below, 40 odd metres below, the most difficult thing is the first couple of steps.  The mental challenge to move from vertical to horizontal and put your full faith in the equipment and the guy holding the rope is no insignificant feat.  Gradually you move from having the weight on your feet to having the weight on the ropes and your feet only there to keep you from hitting the cliff face.  Gravity starts kicking in and you bounce you way down the cliff.  By the time you’ve got to the lower edge you have the confidence to push off the cliff face and take bigger steps, until eventually one giant leap sees you landing feet first on the ground.

Those still up top had now had time to think about who would come next.  Was it better to go earlier and not think about it any more or wait until later and build up the confidence to tackle the challenge.  One by one they each came to their own decisions and a random pattern of people came over the edge.  Some of them taking it on simply as another adventure and some as huge achievement overcoming their fears.  Everyone of the group, even those those that had never done anything like this before, made their way down the face of that enormous challenge and revelled in the achievement.  Some of them even surprised themselves as to how much they enjoyed it.  Everyone of us went back and did it a second time.

There has been many an evening, over plenty of reds, that we have recalled the torment and bravery that occurred that day.  I still greatly respect and admire everyone of that group.

Once again I found myself in Melbourne this weekend.  (Legacy of having friends that barrack for Sydney  Two of those that went over the cliff I mentioned earlier.). My run actually started at the MCG amongst the marquees, BBQs and early comers to the grand final.  I followed the first few ks of the marathon course, a bit of a climb towards the city and round Fed Sq, then along the Yarra, a lap of the Tan, and back to the ‘G. All very iconic and scenic.  I went the Yarra trail as I was reasonably sure the course would be flat.

There were hundreds of runners out yesterday .  Maybe it was the grand final, or that the sun was out, but I suspect it was the fact there is a major run in two weeks.  The runners were scattered between the footy fans, rowers, boot campers and a constant stream of cyclists.  So many runners gives you confidence you’re not the only crazy one out there.

15ks yesterday.  There seems to be a new comfort point at 14ks.  It used be 12ks, but I can now do 14 before the monkey jumps on.  31ks for the week.

Running longer distances gives you plenty of time to think about things.  A couple of conclusions I came to yesterday, I’m sure they’re not just in my head:

A lot of runners around makes it easier to keep your form and hold your pace.  They may not even be going your direction, but it still makes it easier

Everything is more interesting when there is more to look at.  No offensive to Ben Kenna’s dairy, but time, and therefor distance, passes a lot quicker when the scenery is more attractive

Running 18ks last week makes 15ks seem easier. 

I can’t be completely mad, I don’t do boot camp.  I’d rather run 20kms uphill than do some of the things  I saw yesterday.

With two weeks to go I now have to start tapering towards the half marathon event.  After months of trying to increase my distances, this will be a new challenge of its own.

12 days to go.

Week 8 – The Jump

Doing a half marathon is part of the celebration and an attempt to do something big before my upcoming 50th birthday.  I had done much the same thing prior to turning 40, with two major challenges.

The first significant event was a culmination of something I had been thinking about for many years, but hadn’t been planning to do at that time.  My wife and I had arranged a holiday on a tropical  island in Queensland.  As we got to the beach waiting to cross to the island the idea of how to celebrate being forty literally landed in front of me.

The next day I’m on a bus with a bunch of social misfits heading to the airport.  These are the guys that I would be trusting with my life.  They shared a series of jokes trying to suck me in and stress me out.  They would be taking me to 10,000 ft and jumping out of a plane.  This had been something I had want to do for a long time but had never been able to justify it.

We started with a safety briefing, but they still can’t be serious.  Dressed in a one size fits all jumpsuit and an uncomfortable harness,  the actual preparation doesn’t take very long as they cover the basics of what’s going to happen, then it’s off to meet the pilot, Animal.  Didn’t instil you with confidence.

Bundled into the back of a small two seater plane we rattle off down the runway and struggle to take to the air by the end of it.  A few minutes later I remarked about how high we were and what you could still see.  They laughed again and told me that was only 2000ft.  It took quite a bit longer, but eventually I noticed things getting serious as they were starting to tighten their straps and change positions.

At this point I started to wonder what the hell I was doing there and how could I have been so stupid.  The pilot then yells out something about drop zone and ready to go.  It was too late for a change of mind.  The side door of the plane slid open and the whole world was exposed.  Despite the extensive safety training we received on the ground self preservation took control.  Sitting on the edge of the plane, two legs dangling into the abyss, arms trying to grab hold of anything that might be secure enough to keep me in that plane.

The call came from right behind me.  “Hand across your chest.”  Oh yeah, now I remember the drill and why we’re here.  “It’s time to go.”  One big shove and we are out there flying.  The first thing you notice is the hundred mile an hour wind in your face and the vision of clouds screaming toward you.  As you hit the cloud it’s like running through a hail storm.  Breaking through the clouds the view of the island from about 8000ft was absolutely amazing and you really get the sensation of falling.

Within seconds my mate had pulled the rip cord and the chute opening was like pulling on the hand brake.  For the first time in about 30 seconds I could feel myself breathing.  For the next five minutes or so we floated gently over the island and could gradually make out more and more detail.  Eventually we made for the beach we due to land on and the spec that was my wife waiting   nervously for my return.

A perfect three point landing in the sand and a combination of relief and elation.  Absolutely the greatest thrill I’ve ever experienced and I would have gone straight back and done it again.  I had a smile on my face for the rest of the day, although that could have been because the muscles  hadn’t recovered from the wind in my face.

The highlight of this week is that nothing of any great significance had happened.  No incident or accident, no strange trips down unfamiliar back tracks.   Having said that, I actually went to the doctor this week.  Given my medical history and my past running injuries, I thought it best I get a second opinion on my current fitness.  Unfortunately he said everything was normal and gave me no reason to stop.

I ran this morning on the usual track to Noorat and it was nice to be back on relatively flat ground.  As the big event approaches I’m seeing more runners out there clocking up the ks.  I hope to see them on the road to the ‘g.

18kms today.  The longest run I’ve done and significantly longer than anything over the past few weeks.  I’m relatively injury free (nothing that effects my running anyway), but as with the longer runs I’ve done in the past, the last 2 or 3 ks were a bit of a plod.  I’m still using the energy gels and they do give you a bit of a kick for a few ks, but they’re no magic potion.  I’m reasonably confident I’ll be able to go the distance from here, but it may not be pretty.  I managed three good sessions during the week and have really started to ramp things up.  36kms for the week.

19 Days to go.

Week 7 – The ‘G

I had mentioned earlier that one of the main attractions to the Melbourne Marathon was that it traditionally finishes in the MCG.  I have always loved a great arena, I’ve seen plenty, from the Colosseum, to the Birds Nest, Lords to Madison Square Gardens, but none of them have the same presence as the ‘G.  My family still laugh at me when we get to the top of the stairs and there is an audible intake of air.

I went with a friend in the early 70s and saw Richmond, with my father in the late 70s and saw North Melbourne.  I saw my first test at the age of about 10, and I saw Dennis Lillie break the wicket taking record in 1982.  The same friend and I have seen about fifteen Boxing Days together.  I took my girlfriend there in the 80s to watch Collingwood and I saw Fitzroy play in a number of Elimination finals, (lost most of them).  I’ve watched my team Melbourne, play in a grand final, (lost that too, by a lot). In fact I’ve seen the final quarter of eight grand finals ( I haven’t seen the first quarter of all those games, but that’s a whole other story).  I even saw Asafa Powell win the 100m at the 2006 Commonwealth Games, and ironically, watched Kerrie McCann’s victorious lap to win the women’s Marathon.  (Saw Chez complete her 10km challenge too)

The idea of running into the MCG, with the crowds cheering and fans waving (it’s my dream, let it go) was to be the highlight of running the event and the real incentive to run 21kms.  Once I had registered and paid my entry fee (Yes you have to pay to suffer this pain) I got the details of the event.  There it was highlighted as a feature “Finish at the MCG”. Some story about preparing for the cricket and not being able to run on the grass, so we finish outside the ‘g.   A lessor man would have thrown the letter and chucked it all in, but I had come too far and was committed to compete.

So it is to be, we finish outside the MCG.

Thanks to our great family, this weekend I found myself on the Peninsula (That’s right dear, on the Peninsula).  I had come across a rail trail (read, horse track) starting in Red Hill.  A lovely bushland  setting, with views over Western Port Bay, although after an inch of rain during the week, it quickly become a cross country track.  Not great for the ankles as I ran through the mud on several occasions.

Anyway, it was a gentle downhill run towards Pt Leo.  The only problem was I now had to turn around and faced a 4km climb back up to Red Hill.   Aaagh, I hate hills.  (Remember Timboon). Uphill as far as the eye could see.  The slope seemed to range from gradual to ridiculous.  It wasn’t that steep when I was going down.  I don’t even know how they ever managed to get a train up this hill.

The steep slope and rough terrain also played hell with my toes.  (Yep, pretty sure now, they were broken in the great IKEA incident two weeks ago). Downhill, they were being used as a brake, and uphill I needed them to power any forward momentum I could gather.  I really hate hills.

Just 10ks today (I think) partly, because of the hill and partly because there was no GPS signal in the bush.  26kms for the week.  4 weeks to go now, so the next couple have to be pretty big weeks training.  Back on the relatively flat ground at Terang, it should be much easier.

I actually lost 1kg last week, although a weekend of fine dinning and a few drinks (my first for six weeks, by the way) may have fixed that, but obviously I still need to increase the daily carb intake.  I still can’t get my head around the idea of eating this much being good for you.

26 Days to go.

Week 6 – The Idea

I have not explained to this point why I would set myself the ridiculous challenge of running a half marathon after such a disastrous attempt at a 5.9km fun run.  After my second effort at the Terang Noorat fun run, which was much more successful than the first, I began to wonder what’s next.  I had trained longer and smarter this time around and my legs were operating like they should.  I could do a 5k run two or three times a week and walk away with no ill effects.  Still inspired by the two people who started all this, (curse them anyway), I was actually enjoying running and didn’t want that hard work to be just lost.

I had jokingly challenged another running friend to a 10k event, and this would have been an easier option, but the easy option wouldn’t provide the challenge I was looking for.  I felt like I could run 10k anytime and I needed this to be six months build up.

The Melbourne Marathon bought together a number of things that were important in what I was looking for.  The first was that the distance was a huge challenge.  Something I could not have contemplated twelve months ago, and even now I not so sure about it.  The second was that it traditionally finishes inside the MCG, one of my favourite places to be.  The idea of completing this personal challenge on the hallowed turf in front of a massive? crowd was far too appealing.  The third and perhaps most importantly, was that the event happens to be just days before my 50th birthday.

I’ve never been one to stress about the meaning of a significant birthday, and generally see them as the beginning of something new, rather than the end.  I’ve greeted both 30 and 40 and viewed them as a chance to set some new goals and reset the focus.  We’ve also celebrated them by doing something BIG

I’m looking forward to 50 and am excited by what the next few years promise.  We are part time empty nesters and are already enjoying some of the freedoms that presents.  After years of “doing it for the kids” I see fifty as the chance to enjoy some personal time.

After last weeks altercation with the IKEA furniture our lounge room again resembled a recovery unit. I was icing each night in order to reduce the swelling and bring out the bruising. It wasn’t until Thursday that I was able to consider running.  A short slow session on the treadmill, fairly flat footed, not much work on the toes. 

You don’t really appreciate how important your toes are in the scheme of things, and how often they actually get used. One week on and the cut on my big toe is still weeping and my second toe (it took the full force of the impact) is still tender to touch.  I’m reluctant to admit it may be broken.

I did manage a 12 k run on Saturday morning..  While the toes were still a bit sore, it wasn’t painful.  I’ve put up with a lot worse.  20 ks for the week

I didn’t see too many out on Saturday morning, although the fog was that thick I probably wouldn’t have seen them anyway.  By the time I got home I was as wet as I would have been if it was raining.

5 weeks to go now, and the challenge for this week is to keep both feet intact. This will be important, as I need to start really increasing the weekly ks

33 days to go.

Week 5 – The Speed Bump

My first foray into long distance running was back in high school. Terang High School, year 10, a long time ago. We were lucky enough to have a geography teacher who happened to be a great cross country runner. Trevor Wickham was an enthusiastic teacher and very knowledgeable in his area of specialty. He was only too happy to pass on any advice to anyone that was prepared listen

At 16, anything sport related sounded like a pretty good option. A handful of the boys in our year started to join Trevor for a morning run, several times a week. It sounded good until he started making us run longer and longer distances. We would be running the streets of Terang in the hours before school for what seemed like a marathon, but now thinking about where we ran, would have been 3 or 4 kms.

This training led us to two major events that year. The first was a 3000m at the athletics sports. It was actually the first time a long distance event had been held at the school. For most of the race the group of us that had been training together were foxing each other at the front of the pack, all knowing what each other was capable of. With about 200m to go, somebody from outside the group rounded us up and sprinted away to win. Good on him, but so much for all the training.

The distance was fine, the steady pace I could do, but don’t make me sprint to the finish, I wasn’t built for that.

The other event of that year was the inter-school cross country. The distance, 4 or 5 kms was no problem, the creek and mud just added to the challenge, but the bloody hills around Timboon were a killer. I’m not exactly sure now where we ran, but it seemed over every hill was another hill. To this day though, I still feel that pain every time I trudge up a hill.   As a group, this time the training paid off, we did manage to win the teams event.

Turns out the foot soreness from last week was a bit of a problem. Thinking back, I actually injured my foot in an innocuous incident on a rough footpath, ironically, walking to the MCG.   I’ve had to ice my foot each night in an attempt to reduce the swelling. I have been constantly reminded of the injury plagued preparation for my first fun-run. I had to postpone my training session early in week in order to give it some chance of recovery. I was still able to get two sessions in later in the week and it was feeling better each day.

Consequently I ran just 12 kms Sunday morning (what have I become that I now consider 12ks a short run?). I was still feeling OK at 12 ks, it seems to be from there on I start having a few problems. 22ks for the week

I ran into the local running group, not quite Bourke St, but the busiest I’ve seen the walking track. It’s good to know you’re not the only mad one in the town.

That was the morning and everything was feeling good. The afternoon though, not so much. An IKEA furniture incident in which a piece of shelving smashed across my toes, and I was only in socks. Massive pain and almost instant bruising. Several toes have now swollen and are still pretty tender. Official diagnosis is unknown, and I’m not sure I really want to find out. This will definitely impact on the schedule for this week.

Warning: The following contains graphic images.

40 days to go.

 

 

Week 4 -The Shoes

All the miles I have been doing as part of the training for my half marathon was starting to take its toll on my running shoes.  I’d had them since we started running as part of our new healthy lifestyle, so two years on they were starting to feel  a bit flat.  The exercise of buying new running shoes was an experience in itself.

It wasn’t as simple as walking into a store and looking for running shoes, four different brands and hundreds of assorted styles.  Far from the two brands and a choice of blue or red that we used to have.

First step, literally, was on the special mat to see how I walked.  I’ve been doing it for almost fifty years but have never been so conscious of how I put one foot in front of the other.  The shop assistant stripped me bare, well took my socks off, and secretly filmed me from behind.  (a bit big brother, I was feeling a little exposed). This showed up how skinny my ankles actually are and apparently, how unstable my foot is as I land.  I’ve been doing it wrong all these years.

I was presented with four different options.  I’m a Librian so options are, ultimately, just a time waster.  The hardest choice of all was not what brand or even which colour, but a choice between gel cushion,  wave plate, or power grid.  I have no idea what any of them did, but for an old man trying to do the improbable, I opted for the gel cushioning.

Unlike the highly scientific running gear we use today,  the footwear of choice back when I first started running were Adidas ‘Romes’. White leather with 3 blue stripes.  Compared to the comfort & support that today’s shoes offer, the Adidas ‘Romes’ gave us nothing in terms of cushioning from the road.  It is no wonder I ended up with dodgy knees.

The great thing about the ‘Romes’ was their versatility.  Not only were they running shoes, but an all round sports shoe.  Squash, tennis, basketball and cricket, they could cover it all.   But they really showed their true style away from the sports field.

Their best work was as a casual shoe.  They worked perfectly with jeans and could be worn everyday, to the footy, out shopping or just socialising.  They could do it all, we wore them day and night.   It was at night that they really became a fashion statement.  If you were lucky you had an everyday pair, then a “good” pair that could be worn out to dinner,  to a party, but especially to the disco.  I could really cut the moves on the dance floor and was sure I was attracting all the attention.

After running in the city last week it was back to the solitude of the walking track to Noorat this week, just one solitary cyclist (hey Jack).  16kms today @ 5:35/km,  the time for the last few ks blew out to close to 6 mins.  The jump from 14ks to 16 has seemed a lot harder than, say, the jump from 10ks to 12.  I am really starting to appreciate just how tough 21ks is going to be.   A lot more work to done in order to extend my distances. 26 ks for the week.

A bit of residual foot soreness from last week.  I don’t think it’s anything to worry about yet but I’ll need to keep an eye on it.  I hope the fancy new shoes help.

47 days to go.

Week 3 – The Not-So-Fun Run

The Terang Noorat fun run was a creation of the Terang Lions Club in the 1983, after the Ash Wednesday fires, to bring the community together. It has grown to be a feature of the Terang calendar.  Every year an eclectic mix of over 300 runners and walkers gather in front of the Noorat pub to tackle the 5.9 km road to Terang. It features semi-professional runners, (Steve Moneghetti still holds the record), school kids, footy and netball clubs, casual runners and a few old stagers.

Thanks to the continuing Achilles injuries, I arrived at the start in Noorat having done one small jog on the grass at the golf course, just to see if I could still run, and still walking like I had fused ankles.

It had been a stinking hot day, as normally happens in February, still in the mid 30s by the start of the event, and a gusty northerly wind to make things uncomfortable.  Fortunately we would be heading south.

I set off a steady pace, determined to ignore the pain that occurred every time either foot hit the road.  Only 5.8 km to go.  I eventually got into a fairly monotone rhythm, not a great pace, but one I felt I could maintain.  I had managed to get to the town boundary, with about 2 ks to go, and really feeling the effects of the evening heat and the hard surface of the road, I felt the dreaded pop in one leg.  I knew it wasn’t good, but also knew if I stopped at that point, that would be it.  So I battled on, focusing on the goal of completing what I had set out to do.

1km to go, and heading for the final stretch to the finish, another pop in the other leg.  This time I knew it could be serious, but concentrated on keeping one foot in front of the other.  The pain continued with every step.  Form, style and pace had all gone out the window, all I had left was sheer pig headedness.

Somehow I struggled up Baynes St, past the now dwindling crowd at the finish, got a greeting from Justin Staunton (I’m sure Justin has compèred everyone of the 30 years) and literally staggered across the finish.  I thought at that point I might live to regret it, but I had completed the challenge I had set myself months earlier.  I had to be assisted over to a shady spot and never moved for 20 minutes.  I had to be all but carried out of there, as I couldn’t walk on my own.  I made sure we went out the back way though, so nobody saw me.

It would be 3 months before I could walk without pain.  Curse those two people.

I laugh now as I write that, (enough time has passed), because at that point I thought I would never be able to run again let alone do 5.9 ks on the road.  Now as a training run I go to Noorat and back.

This weekend we happened to be in Melbourne so I took the opportunity to run in the area the half marathon event will be.  Firstly through Melbourne famous sporting precinct, Olympic Park, MCG and the Tennis Centre.  I was excited to be running in the shadows of such great sporting venues.

I then headed out, the length of St Kilda Rd, turned and came back the same way.  This may not help performance the day of the event, but at least I won’t get lost.

On a normal Saturday morning I might see two or three other people running or walking the dog, so St Kilda Rd was a bit extreme, as you had to weave your way through everyone exercising, the dogs, prams and all the tourists.  The biggest challenge of the day though, was managing the traffic lights and manoeuvring around the cars and trams. It gave you more to think about than just what your legs were doing or how you were feeling.

15.2 kms @ 5:30/km.  25 ks for the week. Why is it that no matter how far you run it’s always the last two ks that hurt the most.  Although the pain was eased by the beauty of the Fitzroy Gardens.

I have worked out that to complete the half marathon, I need to do today’s run, 15.2kms, then a Terang Noorat, 5.9kms.  A long way to go.

54 days to go.

Week 2 – The Pain

As part of a new health and fitness campaign I had managed to run 1km, but had committed myself to completing a 5.9km fun run. At that stage I had 4 months to build up to that distance. I could only run laps of “the Rec” at that point, as I didn’t want to put undue strain on the old dodgy knees. I knew enough to know that I had to slowly extend myself to run extra distance each week. This was one of those cases of a little bit of knowledge being dangerous.

“The internet” told me the best way to build up your distance is interval training. ie. short distances at varying speeds. The first lap at a steady pace was no trouble. The next lap I increased my speed and within 100 mtrs I had strained a calf, hobbled through the rest of the lap, then had to pull up. No more training for two weeks

The next time I started training I took a softer more sensible approach, slowly building the distance while maintaining a steady pace. This approach proved more successful as I slowly increased the distance up to around 4 ks. All this time though my Achilles would be sore first thing but would be fine as I warmed up.

Eventually I was able to take my training to the road. Either running to the Rec, to complete the last couple of ks on the grass, or completing a circuit of the softer walking track around the lake in Terang.

There are those from neighbouring towns, that have more traditional lakes, that find it hard grasp the Terang lake. I see lakes in other towns that are used only for fishing and water sking and have a golf course clinging to the side of a hill. In addition to the 4.5 km walking track, the lake in Terang has the golf course in the prime position in its flat bed., our lake also hosts many other sports, cricket, bowls, croquet, tennis and pony club and ironically also has our swimming pool.

The fitness levels continued to increase to the point I would do 4 – 5 ks a couple of times a week. Unfortunately the pain in my Achilles was increasing at the same rate. I could work through the pain while I was running but would suffer for most of the day, hobbling around the office like an “old man”

A constant round of chiro, massage and physio was trying to keep me going, but the physio had told me the only way to stop the pain was to stop the running. Another two weeks off training

Two weeks of special exercises and strength training had made some improvement, but it was now 1 week before the fun run and I hadn’t run for two weeks and still couldn’t really walk straight. I had made a commitment 4 months earlier to complete the Noorat – Terang fun run for the first time, and despite all the advice I was still going to do it.

Down to series training this week. 14kms yesterday @ 5.29 per k. A bit windy today so made hard work of it. 24 ks for the week. Increasing the distance but still a fair way to go. Thank god for the treadmill. The weather has been pretty ordinary the past week or two, so I didn’t fancy heading out in the dark at zero degrees, or at night in wild and windy conditions.

Still working on the carb diet. I’m actually struggling to fit it all in, time wise and quantity wise, but I’m prepared to keep eating for the good of the cause. Back on the Powerade again today, but it still haven’t mastered the art of drinking while on the move.

My fitness gurus introduced me to energy gels this week. Red cordial in a packet. They wouldn’t let me use the happy gas during child birth, so this was the biggest brain buzz I’ve experienced. It was good stuff. After having a good shot of one of these gels I was feeling no pain for the next few ks, but the last couple of ks were still hard work. 9 weeks to go.

61 Days to go