Turning Point

I've reached an age where rational decision making tends to override spontaneous what-the-heckisms. After reading Duncan Larkin's piece in Running Times about the value of long runs for short racers, I decided to head out on Saturday morning for my one over-distance run prior to the Melbourne Half Marathon.

So it was that I arrived at the Cotter Reserve at the crack of dawn on a decidedly bleak and threatening day. I was going to run 15 miles (23.9 Garmin kilometres), over some big hills, in a spectacular location. On a clear day there are panoramic views that hearten the soul — largely the result commercial forestry and the 2003 bushfires. Fifteen years ago "The Cotter" was the perfect location for a summer run — the three courses (15, 18 and 21 miles) being shaded by towering Radiata Pines.

I set off with the impetuous intent of keeping the other (faster) runners in sight. Not an easy task on a course that climbs steadily for the first 20-odd minutes. Dumb idea! I was at close to racing effort, yet the three leaders steadily increased the gap. Steve must have felt some pity, as he waited patiently at the top of the first hill while I breathlessly caught up. "You go on and catch the others," I said. "I know my way, and need to slow down."

Half an hour later I was climbing the aptly named Jellylegs hill, battling into a headwind under steady rain. It was a miserable day. When I reached the gate at the top of the climb I took a drink. I stood there in the cold rain for what must have been a good five minutes, debating with myself about whether to turn right or left. Right was a short-cut home that would reduce the run to about 17 kilometres. Turn left and I'd be committed to the 24. In the end I thought "what the heck", and turned left. Fifteen minutes later I crested the rise on Bullock Paddock Road wondering what I'd done. The wind was biting and there were snow clouds blowing down from the mountains. I was freezing.

I can only remember a couple of times when I've been worried about my safety whilst out running. Once I was jogging beside a quite road towards Crater Lake in Oregon — just me and my thoughts, having a great time until I heard something moving in the forest. Immediately I recalled the stories about joggers being attacked by cougars or black bears. Needless to say I ran with adrenaline inspired urgency for the last 5k back to our lodgings.

What saved me on Saturday was a fortuitous break in the weather. Weak shadows appeared on the ground just after I reached Padovans Crossing. I'd never been so happy to see shadows! I was still cold and wet, but the rain had stopped and I was slowly jogging. At Vanities Crossing my legs were numb and dead from the cold. I was only 7k from home, so I walked the long hill towards Pierce's Creek then jogged the last 2k down to the cars, thinking all the while that this was one run I'd remember for a long time!

The Sydney Half and Lloydy

I raced in the Blackmores Sydney Half Marathon yesterday. I was wide-eyed in wonderment at running over a traffic-free Harbour Bridge amongst a crowd of 7,000, and some time later, past the tourists of Circular Quay to finish near the steps of the Sydney Opera House. I had a great time! It was a perfect shining Sydney day.

I kept an eye on the heart-rate monitor in the early stages, just as Canute had done in the Robin Hood Half. I eased the throttle when the heart-rate went over 145. This method seemed to work pretty well, as the first 10k felt comfortable enough. After the turn I picked up the effort, but as I checked each kilometre split, realised that I wasn't producing any extra speed. Maybe it was just a bad hair day? Who knows? Anyway, my chip time was 1:46:10, so a little slower than for the Vets' Half, but on a warmer morning. My result doesn't fill me with confidence that I can run 1:40 in Melbourne in three weeks' time.

At the race expo on Saturday I bumped into Andrew Lloyd. For those who may not know, "Lloydy" ran in one of the most exciting 5000m races ever, when he came from behind to beat John Ngugi in the 1990 Commonwealth Games. I remember watching the race on live television, urging Lloydy on over the last thrilling lap. Steve Moneghetti in commentary was almost as animated as I was — it was a moment I'll never forget.

5k splits (Av HR): 24:43 (143), 24:42 (146), 25:26 (148), 25:41 (145), 5:38 (150)

With Andrew Lloyd at the Expo on Saturday

My Hometown

Last Saturday dawned with weather perfect for motorcycling. Unfortunately the GSX needs a new rear tyre, so I drove the car to my old hometown of Wagga Wagga. I had planned to race the Canberra Times 10k on Sunday, but my sister was staying with Mum in Wagga, so it was a good opportunity to see them both before Jane's move to Tasmania. Jane had recently returned from an overseas trip where she visited the UK and later caught up with my other sister (now living in Minnesota) in New York City.

Lucho has ten rules of running. Rule #1 is "Family comes first". Rule #2 is "Did you read #1? If not, please read again". So, it was a family weekend. As serendipity would have it, there just happened to be a race in Wagga on Sunday morning — The Lake to Lagoon 9.5k Fun Run. I put in a late entry and ran while Jane and Mum went to church. Running is my church.

I enjoyed the race — well, the first 6k — having made a strategic decision to put my Prefontaine tactics on hold for this one. It was hot. In truth, the temperature was only 26°C, but having spent a Canberra winter running in temperatures south of 10°C, I was psyched out by the unseasonable gloriousness. I'm not a good hot-weather racer. There was also a fresh northerly wind whipping up waves on the normally placid Lake Albert. It was a headwind for much of the race distance.

With the weather conditions in mind, I raced with a little space between the throttle and the floorboards — perhaps starting at half marathon effort. Even so, I didn't have much in reserve for the last flattish 3k beside the river to the downtown finish. I enjoyed dicing with the local runners. There were a couple of small boys — one who surged Pre-like whenever I edged alongside — you've got to love that! There were two grey-haired old blokes, some footy players, and a couple of 20-something girls — one who had a mesmerisingly perfect running style.

My time for the race was 46:05, so not great, but safely home and living to look forward to the next one — which happens to be this coming Sunday in Sydney — The Blackmores Half Marathon. I get to run over the Harbour Bridge — Woo-hoo! I want this race to be a good trial for Melbourne in October, so I'll run as Canute did in the Robin Hood Half — keeping the heart-rate under control for the first 12 to 15k. If the shiny side is still upright for the run back to the Opera House I might bring in a little Pre-work. We'll see!

Ready to go in the 2006 Lake to Lagoon

Learning to run like Pre

I've been thinking about Canute's comments in my last post where he mentions the central governor theory. Is it possible for me to cajole the pesky governor into allowing a slacker rope, such that I can run with the abandonment of Steve Prefontaine? Speedygeoff also mentions running a Pre-style 70 minute half marathon when he latched onto 2:15 marathoner John Andrews.

Jonathon, in a recent blog post, pointed out Pre's 5000m race in the 1972 Munich Olympics. It shows the final three laps of what is a fascinating race. Pre is leading and has set such a pace that all but four runners have been dropped. When he's finally overtaken, he bursts back into the lead only to be overtaken again. He manages to regain the lead once more, yet loses the bronze medal to a fast finishing Ian Stewart. My take on his thought process is that it goes something like: "bugger you mate, you're not going to lead my race!" I think Pre's accommodating central governor may have cost him a silver medal behind Lasse Virén.

Anyway, I'm never in the running for medals, so I'm open to suggestions for training sessions that might teach my pompous central governor a lesson — just as Gough Whitlam promised in 1975 when he said: "Well may we say God save the Queen, because nothing will save the governor-general!" Thanks Scott for mentioning that apt quote.

For 'Pre practise', I've done one 10k run where I warmed up for 2k, then alternated 'hard' and 'harder' 2k sections. 'Hard' was at about marathon race effort, while 'harder' was at about 10k race effort. This seemed to be a somewhat effective central governor humiliation strategy, as he tried mightily (but failed) to prevent the final 2k 'harder' section.

Early in the ACT Veterans' Half Marathon

A half marathon is a long way

I raced in the ACT Veterans' Half Marathon on Sunday. It was a cool and sunny morning, with a yacht-friendly breeze blowing across Lake Burley Griffin. I decided in advance to make good on my promise to Pre — I'd start fast and hold the pace for as long as possible. Somewhere around 16k I found out that a half marathon is a long way.

The race has three separate starts, and I was in group two (for runners expecting to finish between 1 hour 40 minutes and 2 hours). Surprisingly, my quick start had me nowhere near the lead of the group! I was probably in around 12th place after the 2k sign, which I passed in 9:04 (1:35:40 pace). I kept running as hard as possible, but inevitably began to slow down.

After 5k I was overtaken by Roger, then Speedygeoff. Approaching the Governor General's residence Helen caught me — I managed to run with her until the aforementioned 16k mark. Gary also went by around here, saying something typically cheery. I found myself thinking about Malcolm Fraser, and did he really say "a half marathon wasn't meant to be easy". Anyway, I finally made it up the last hill, and down to the finish-line in 1:45:18. A very welcome finish-line indeed! Obviously I have a lot of work to do if I'm to get down to 1 hour 40 minutes for the Melbourne Half in October. Some long training runs will help — let's get this party started!

5k splits: 23:40, 24:33, 25:14, 26:08 + 5:43 (1.0975 km).

Being blown backwards near the finish of the Ski-jump 5k

A brief apology to Pre

Last Sunday I finished my 26th City to Surf. Aside from the rather esoteric 3000 metres on the track, the City to Surf is my favourite race. At 14k, it's long enough to require some endurance, but short enough that it doesn't resemble a slow and painful tooth extraction.

New sub-3 man Scott Brown has been kind enough to nominate me as southern Canberra's answer to Steve Prefontaine. I've taken this on board and have decided to run all races out hard, in front — because (in the words of Pre) "winning any other way is chicken shit!"

This is the tactic I used in my recent Calgary ski jump 5k. Except that I wasn't "in front" — I'm too slow to ever be in front, but I can still race out hard, and bugger the consequences. These were my thoughts as I was chatting to Adam prior to the start on a beautifully cool and sunny day.

Sometime between that chat and the gun firing to send 63,000 runners charging down William Street, I reverted to type. I couldn't force myself to race out hard, so as I ran up to the Kings Cross tunnel, I said under my breath a brief apology to Pre — "forgive me this one time".

My conservatism resulted in a good race. I was relaxed and enjoying the day. I even threw my arms in the air in time to Enter Sandman, belted out by the band on the roof of the Golden Sheaf Hotel. I didn't die running up heart-break hill! I had time to look around and marvel at the people I was running with — from young teenagers to grey-haired ladies and a man pushing his child in a three-wheeled stroller.

I ran a strong last 4k, rushing down Military Road with my friends, and even managing something of a sprint for the 300 metres of Queen Elizabeth Drive to the finish. A 67:18 chip time was slower than last year, but I was happy. Maybe next year I'll listen to Metallica before the race, and that'll fire me up enough to race like Pre!

Me with my friends! This photo was in the C2S gallery but now it's gone. Was I too ugly?

The ski jumps at Calgary

One day I'll get the hang of this racing game. Last Saturday I placed 40th in a local 5k "road" race — it was actually an out and back run on a flattish bike path next to Lake Burley Griffin.

I started with the intention of running something close to 21 minutes (I would have been happy with 21:30). After 500 metres or so I thought I had an achievable pace going and was feeling good. Then Roger (20:27) and Geoff (21:20) glided past. I ran more or less with Heidi for 3k, and was managing to hold a gap of 30 metres or so to a couple of young girls from my club, Lili and Caitlin.

The last 2k was not a pretty sight as Heidi and the two girls disappeared over the horizon. I've made a chart of kilometre splits — it dramatically shows my wheels falling off one by one. My race looks like the profile of one of the big ski jumps at Calgary. I know because I took the lift to the top of the biggest one in 2003.

The other two lines on the chart show a better way to race a 5k. The middle one is from my all-time 5000m PB. The bottom line shows the splits Ron Clarke ran in 1966 on his way to a World Record. I'd like to run an M50 PB this coming track season. To do that, I need something under 4:15 kilometres. I'm inclined to keep my starts like the lower slopes of the Calgary ski jump, and hopefully flatten it out as my fitness and speed improves.

Running up the big ski jump at Calgary is not easy!

[ Splits - 4:11, 4:13, 4:35, 4:43, 4:51 ]

Something Borrowed, Something New

The toasty smoke has gradually cleared from my kitchen these past two weeks. It's taken awhile, because I tend to leave windows closed on frosty Canberra mornings.

Until I can scrape together enough cash for the uber-expensive Polar or Suunto HRV watches ($699 online for the latter), I've decided to implement a rather conservative training program. This is a borrowed plan, but it's new for me. It comes from the training diary of Sean Wade. Basically it calls for two easy days between hard sessions. The easy days for me will be an hour or so of running at 76% or less of maximum heart-rate (about 5:45 to 6:00 per km). The hard days will be whatever I feel I need — most likely long hard efforts, such as marathon-pace runs, longer tempo runs, or intervals with minimal recoveries.

I scanned the photo below from a Kodachrome slide. It shows Adam Hoyle and Steve Moneghetti (792) racing in the 1986 World Cross Country selection trial in Canberra. The 12k race was won by Rob de Castella in 36:30, with a fresh-faced Moneghetti placing 4th in 37:18. It occurred to me that Mona has the longevity of my chrome-plated Chinese-made toaster. Just the other day he ran 30:00 for a road 10k in Launceston, two months shy of his 47th birthday. What an example to keep on running!

Steve Moneghetti - Canberra, 1986

Burnt Toast and HRV

My toaster refuses to die. I purchased it in 1989, the year I bought my house. It was made in China — the country that produces most of our running shoes and LCD screens. It's chrome plated, and such are the whims of fashion, this virtue has transformed it into a totally modern, "must have" kitchen accessory.

So all is good with my toaster! Or is it? Occasionally I'll forget to adjust the timer and be presented with two pieces of charcoal encrusted raisin toast. I was thinking the other day that I'd love to have the longevity of my toaster. To be running with the same speed that I had (and took for granted) in 1989. The unpredictable burning of raisin bread, I see as a metaphor for my (I suspect) recent problem with over-training.

At some point during my 12 weeks of Hosaka-Hadd training my body started to object. I slowly went from continual gains in fitness to struggle-mode. I was becoming burnt toast. Looking back at my training diary, I can see the point where smoke started rising to the ceiling. For 10 weeks, my heart-beats per kilometre (the RS scale), had been steadily decreasing, showing gains in aerobic fitness. I was running my 7k kangaroo/wombat course at below 700 heart-beats per kilometre. At the point of over-training my heart-beats per kilometre climbed, reaching 715 to 720 beats per kilometre.

Is there a way of predicting the onset of over-training, or better still, preventing it from happening in the first place? I've been following with great interest a series of posts from Canute which tackle this issue. Heart rate variability (HRV), or more pertinently the lack of HRV, is a good indicator of over-training stress. "What is HRV?" I hear you asking. Simply put, it's the beat-to-beat timing of the heart-rate. If your heart is beating at 60 beats per minute and you have little HRV, then each of those beats will be extremely close to one second apart. This indicates a highly stressed (or over-trained) state. If you have good HRV, then some beats might be 0.9 seconds apart, with others 1.1 seconds apart.

So it seems you can use the HRV result on any particular day to indicate what sort of a training session you should do. If one's HRV is low, then it may pay off in the long term to postpone a planned hard training session. There are two heart-rate monitors (that I know of) capable of measuring HRV: The Polar RS800CX and the Suunto t6c. Now all I have to do is figure out if I should invest the money I've saved on toasters over the years into one of these high-end heart-rate monitors.

I hope everyone has had a great weekend. May your coming week be stress-free and full of happy running memories!

On the Beach at Surfers Paradise, July '09

On the Beach

After an all too brief five days in the blazing Queensland sun, I'm back in cool quiet Canberra. To tell you the truth, the sun lacked the intensity of the one now burning over the desert in Arizona — in fact the weather was as perfect as can be — and especially perfect on race-day.

In the end, I didn't run the fast half marathon I was hoping for. A late rush to regain some fitness resulted in a worrying injury gatecrashing the party. It wasn't the left shin — that was rather docile. It was a tight right hamstring. When we visited the expo, I transferred my entry to the 10k race, such was my concern about the leg surviving 21 kilometres of hard running.

After all that, the 10k went surprisingly well, although the tight right leg refused to lay low. My chip time was 45:44 — 37 seconds slower than last year — but the race felt quite different. Aside from the bothersome hamstring, the legs were good throughout. Strained breathing and a high heart-rate during the second half indicated some lost fitness. I was a minute slower on the return journey from Surfers Paradise — running the first 5k in 22:22 at an average heart-rate of 152, with the second 5k a fading 23:22 at 155.

Thinking about it now, two days later, I can see some good racing happening in the months ahead — perhaps in the City to Surf, or the Melbourne Half Marathon. I do feel rejuvenated after my holiday, and can't wait to resume training. There's something about catching up with old friends and witnessing some inspirational racing that's good for the soul.

Dinner with Plu outside the Jolly Chinaman in Main Beach

View north of the marathon and 10k course from the 22nd floor