Two Weeks of Influenza

Image below was taken on the day after 6 Foot Track - I walked like tinman, downhill was the worst. Since then I have not run for almost two weeks. After my few days of floating after finishing the 6 Foot Track - I landed on the ground with a thud.

A terrible head cold - my first in many, many years. I think it has turned my brain to mush and it is slowly leaking out of my head. Pretty soon there will be nothing left. I have to get over this - Wild Endurance is calling and Sydney Half Marathon is only eight weeks away.

Six Foot Track Marathon - The Grace of the Long Distance Runner

Saturday March 13, 2010 (Race -45km)

I am still soaking in the delicious feeling of finishing the Six Foot Track Marathon . The finish is sweet, regardless of whether you finished the run in 3hrs24min (the winning male time) or 4hrs 03min (the winning female time) or 7hrs (the official cut-off time) or 7hrs 48min (the last recorded runner over the finishing mat). There is nothing like it on the running calendar in this state. My first start in the early wave and I was nervous and excited to see how the day would unfold considering my limited preparation. I was also looking forward to meeting the scary monsters on the Black Range, finding out if I had the mettle to fight them off this time and also seeing the leaders of the race in action out on the course.

The gods of the 6Foot Track must have been smiling on me. I can say the day for me worked out pretty close to perfect. After a cautious start down the rocky track I descended the dark, slippery stairs of Nellie’s Glen with myopic vision in the twilight but at my own pace without any pressure from runners behind me. From there the run on the open fire trail was pretty cruisy chatting to other runners around me, some grumbling, in jest, about all these young(er) women not really meeting the entry criteria and being allowed into the early start. The single track run to the river I had pretty much to myself, accompanied by the song of the bellbirds. An occasional testosterone laden runner spoiled the contemplation by overtaking me and I was jolted into remembering it was a race and not a leisurely training run. By the time I reached the river at 16km and on my target time of 1hr40, I had overtaken a few of the early wave ‘speedsters’ and Stage 2 of the race unfolded. This section is an approximate 10 km, made up of climbing the Mini Mini saddle and the Pluviometer and these climbs being broken up with a 2km decent to Alum Creek, between them. As planned, I walked the hills and here the sound of the bellbirds was replaced by swatting of the flies that were trying to crawl into eyes, nose an ears. I maintained form and kept moving. My bruised right toe was fine but the left foot toes had a pinched nerve which sent off a fire cracker of pain each time I stepped on a rock that pressed in the wrong place. The trial of wriggling my toes to relieve the pain and not induce cramping kept my mind occupied on the climb up the Mini Mini saddle.

The kms clicked over and pretty soon the beautiful decent to Alum Creek started. I had been pretty much on my own when I heard the pit-pat of much quicker foot fall behind me and sure enough it was the race leader at this stage, Dave Criniti, overtaking me just at the aid station at Alum Creek. What a lovely guy, with a competitor breathing down his neck he found the time to call out words of encouragement to me. I was blown away – how in the moment can you be.

From here I walked the Pluviometer climb feeling reasonable strong with only a hint of cramping. By the time I reached the top of the Pluviometer, 26km into the race, the leading female runner came through looking very comfortable and smooth. Stage 2 of the race done, only 3 minutes behind schedule.

I approached Stage 3 - the Black Range - with trepidation. What did it have install for me today? As I have learnt, no matter how well prepared one is – the wheels can come off here. On leaving the aid station I started to run and realised that I felt fine, I could actually run this. I could see another early wave starter who was a couple of hundred metres in front and while I tried, I just could not get close to her. I walked anything that looked like a rise, ran the rest getting into a bit of a rhythm. Half way along I noticed a couple of cyclist approaching and recognised friendly faces; it was Al, who ran a blinder at last years 6 FT but missed out on getting an entry this year, and his nephew Geoffrey. I got such a lift from chatting to them that I forgot the running rhythm and pretty soon I was overtaking the runner in front of me, without intending to, and I kept pulling away. Apart from the start and the near Cox’s River, this was about the only overtaking I did. I ran to the next aid station re-energised and ready to race to the finish. On the way, I was overtaken by the next 6 female finishers and a few others who were caught in their own race. By the time I reached Binda cabins, approximately 4km from the end, I had no doubt I would finish. I still have not gotten over my fear of falling after the Pluviometer Plunge last year so I tread carefully. The pounding on the quads on the descent was punishing. I was being overtaken by a few runners on these final few kilometres, some bragging about how fresh they felt. I got to the sealed section of the final descent and my 45 km of pleasure and pain was topped off by hearing the voice of the announcer - this is the moment to savour. I wanted to enjoy this moment - time slowed to feeling like I was moving in slow motion as I made my way down the switchbacks to cross the finish line in an 18 minute PB. The Hammer ran a very comfortable race finishing with a 10 minute PB.

I was elated by how well I felt, how kind the Black Range was to me this year, how wonderful a few encouraging words can be from a friendly face and the graciousness of some of the leaders of the pack.

Conditions were perfect for running, cool at the start with a sunshine in sections and, just like last year, the day ended with storm clouds descending to wash out the track and leave it ready for another race, on another day.

Who’s afraid of the Six Foot Track?

Wednesday March 10, 2010 (Walk)
Way back in the early hours of the 1st December 2009 I accepted the challenge to spend the second Saturday in March experiencing 45 km of pleasure and pain. At the time of entering the Six Foot Track Marathon I had not run for nearly 3months nursing a torn hamstring tendon. I thought that if I could not start running pain free by mid-January it was not likely that I would be fit in time. I was tentative starting in late January, trying not to do too much too soon but conscious of the clock ticking. I have had the hardest ever return to running fitness. A total of eight weeks of preparation and 450km of running has really only been enough to start building endurance but not really enough to tackle this race with confidence.

Yesterday I stubbed my foot on a set of dumbbells I left lying around in the hallway. Maybe I was trying to sabotage myself? Maybe I was just starting the pain threshold conditioning? I thought I might have broken a toe. While it hurts to walk now, it is only bruised and sore and should be right by Saturday.

I have been defeated by the Black Range twice and I fear that this time around it will again chew me up and spit me out. But in a strange way I am kind of looking forwarding to hitting that wall and seeing what emerges from the dark swirling abyss. Pain and misery can be strange companions which alter perceptions of time. I read a quote from Eleanor Roosevelt which has been an inspiration to me on the days I thought of withdrawing from this race:

“You gain strength, courage and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You must do the thing you think you cannot do”

Last Blast of Summer

Sunday March 7, 2010 (Steady – 14km)

As we start to descend into the cool of autumn and the breezy cold of winter, I realize that running in the heat and humidity is always precious to me in hindsight. Although it does not get really cold here compared to other places, I would be happy to have 12 months of summer.

So, this weekends last longish run before the big dance next Saturday felt precious for two reasons; the unexpected return of the heat and humidity and overcoming the voice in my head that wanted a cruisy Sunday sleep-in. Even though the signs of autumn are all around, this weekend felt like the last blast of the departing summer. A late night, meant a late start when the sun was well and truly blazing. I struggled mentally to complete the hilly 14km loop to Newport. The humidity seemed to sap all my strength and it was only by thinking of how much suffering is ahead of me on the Black Range that I managed to grind out the run this morning. Now if only this suffering would lessen that which is ahead.

Windy Collaroy

Friday March 5, 2010 (Steady – 10km)
Strong gusting northeasterly wind this morning made for an interesting run. I ran a steady pace to Collaroy and back, finishing in 52 minutes. The return leg into the wind added to the effort.

Not sure it was wise to run with hamstring pain but witnessing the most gorgeous sunrise while icing after the run made it all worthwhile. Only eight more sleeps.

Dark Clouds

Thursday March 4, 2010 (Easy – 7km)
Dark clouds are hanging over my fitness to attempt the 6FT Track. This was matched by the low hanging dark cloud cover when I set out this morning. The clouds lifted just enough near the horizon for a sliver of blue sky where the sun was soon to peak out, giving way to a stunning morning. I ran an easy/relaxed 7km just to enjoy the freedom of movement. No hamstring pain during the run, but it was painful to sit during the day.

Cooks Terrace Without My Buddy

Tuesday March 2, 2010 (Hills – 5km)
Week six of my 6FT marathon preparation program and it is time to taper already! I am really only half ready but will see what happens. Ran lots of short hill repeats this morning. I used to do these hill repeats with my old training buddy. But he quickly worked out that he could just wait for me at the bottom of the hill and I would keep returning. This kept him amused for some time but he got tired of that game eventually.
This morning the uphill running brought on the hamstring pain. By the end of the run the sciatic pinching was back, the old familiar feeling. Very discouraging after all the strengthening and stretching I have been doing in my time away from running. Maybe a massage and more stretching will let it all settle down again.