Marathon a go go.

With the official results for the Barossa Half marathon about to be released I can tell you that my official time was 1hr54min20sec, or 8 minutes faster than last year and 173rd out of 266 runners. I suppose one day I would like to be in the top half of finishers, but at the moment I am just happy with the improvement.

Now with three months to go until my second marathon…what am I going to do differently to improve my time?

For starters I am going to run a different race plan (ok, ok, I mean stick to my race plan), which will hopefully mean that I can run out the 42.2km, rather than walk the last 10.

I feel like I am not running as much as I did in 2007, though my log would seem to indicate that totals are about the same. I don’t think I am putting in the same number of runs, they are just on average longer.

The biggest difference by far is the quality of the runs. This year I am running them faster and harder then in 2007 and it is to this that I contribute most of my faster times so far.

My weight is about the same as it was in 2007. I have tried to get it down, but to no avail…I like food.

What I want to do now, while there is still 3 months to go, is build from my 2 halves and the 28km Pioneer Women’s Trail Run this month and get in a lot more 30+ kilometer runs than in 2007. If I can get 2 of those in during the month of June I will be 2 ahead of 2007. Add to that 2 four hour long runs in July and I will be smashing my PB come August.

Barossa Half Marathon 2009 Race Report

I wasn’t filled with much confidence of a good time in the lead up to my second Barossa Half Marathon. For some reason I had an overwhelming feeling of failure, or was it lardiness?

Never the less I lined up at the start line at the more civil time of 9am, half heartedly ready to give my all. Time for a new game plan. Time to learn something different.

I picked someone out, a rabbit if you will, someone to chase from the start. My target…the six foot man…well he really isn’t six foot (I would say not even 5 foot) but he does like to wear his six foot singlets. I knew Kym ran less than 1hr50min at the Greenbelt HM, so if I chased him from the start I would be in line for a good time.

No more of this – start out slow, bring it home strong – for me today. The gun went off and I moved along at a decent clip, trying not to let Kym out of my sight. Down the finish straight and on towards the first hill. By the top of the hill I was level with Kym, but never again.

I stretched out the legs, letting my long legs do all the work down the hill and came up the other side already struggling to keep up the pace as we rounded the corner into the finish straight for the second time.

  At the next drink station I took a longer than usual walk break while I sipped some water. I was losing touch with Kym and was in hurt town big time. Over the next lap and a half I had to give myself a stern talking to on many occasions, and the urge to walk was become overwhelmingly strong, the more I struggled on.

I was sure every time I heard footsteps behind me that it was other SARRC runners, about my speed, running me down. I was fading badly, and yet still catching people every now and then.

By 2km to go, only a couple of runners had actually passed me and I was pushing harder then ever with a 76 years young gentleman I had never beaten before running alongside.  He stopped for a walk and I pushed on, urging my legs to punch out just 500 more metres as I was sure I could hear people sprinting up behind me.

With a final burst, some high fives for Colsy and Cakeboy and a bit of silly arm waving, I ran down the finish chute, to finish in an unofficial time of 1hr54min22sec. A hard fought course PB (8 minute PB to be precise) and my second fastest HM time (after the Greenbelt earlier this month).

I was disappointed the rain held off, I could have done with some cooling off on that last lap.

Pioneer Women’s Trail Run

  Set on Mother’s Day of all days, the Pioneer Women’s Trail is the trail the Pioneer Women of Hahndorf in the Adelaide Hills used to carry their fresh produce to market in Adelaide before any roads were built.

The trail we ran today was not the same as the original trail, but rather the trail marked out by the Department of Recreation and Sport (who by the way haven’t finished the trail yet because of the little matter of a $400k footbridge at Vurdon).

In excess of 80 people had signed up to participate in at least some part of the trail run and in the gloom of the pre-dawn day most gathered at the finish (Hazelwood Park, Burnside) for the bus ride up the Freeway to Hahndorf.

The bus ride, on a double decker bus mind you – to fit all of us in, didn’t seem to go as long as the bus ride the previous week to Athelstone for the Greenbelt Half. This to me was a good mental sign that I was going to have a good day as this run was 7km further (if you didn’t take any wrong turns) than a half marathon.

We were greeted and set on our way in Pioneer Park, Hahndorf, by the mother of descendents of the founding families of Hahndorf, and the chief ambassador for the marking of the trail. Following a brief recount of some of the trials and tribulations of previous walks of the trail, we set off down the main street of Hahndorf on our journey to Adelaide.

Don’t get me wrong, with the official trail markings and the detailed trail instructions and maps, you would think it would be easy to make it all the way to Burnside without making a wrong turn. History tells us that this wouldn’t be the case and it was barely 5 minutes later that reality set in.

Terry C had made an announcement minutes before that we were turning left at The Cedars, the home of Hans Heysen, but as The Cedars came into view we were greeted with shouts calling back at least a dozen of the front runners who were obviously too busy nattering away to notice it.

It felt like minutes later that I looked at the Garmin to see how far we had come and lo! we had already covered 7km. Gee time flies when you are having fun and then to cap things off an unexpected drink station appears before you complete with lollies and chocolate.

In defense of all those who took a wrong turn, or missed a turn somewhere, the autumn colours of the leaves did a marvelous job of camouflaging the trail signs and you had to be really alert to see some of them thanks to some challenging placement by the trail markers (Rec and Sport).

FRANKY! That was my cries as we emerged from under the bridge in Bridgewater to be greeted by the medicated wares of Frank and his beautifully arranged water stop at the Old Bridgewater Mill. The Mill was the gateway to yet another stunning part of the trail through wooded forest like landscape.

The hardest part of the run for me, started on Old Carey Gully Road. We came out from the Mt Lofty Golf course onto the road and began the slow climb up over the freeway into Stirling. Not actually knowing the exact route I approached the intersection with Spring Gully Road with trepidation.  I knew if we turned up that road I would definitely have to give it my all to get to the top without walking…we have history, that hill and I. Fortunately for my legs we passed by without turning and I think I became lazy after that as the fog started to close in. I stopped frequently to walk and take photos. 

It was not far past Spring Gully Road that David C, Zacman and Chilliman came up from behind…”Where the hell did you guys come from?” I joked. Another bunch of lost runners. They had been on a detour up the Heysen Trail to the the Scout Camp on Spring Gully Road. I suppose it helps that I was always following people who knew where they were going, with the downside being that I have no stories of misadventure to report.

At this point I wondered why the Pioneer Women had weaved around to Stirling and then back to Crafers when they could have headed straight over Mt Lofty, passed the Scout Camp (well obviously the Scout Camp wasn’t there in the 1800s) as these three had tried to do. It was not to be the last time I thought the Pioneer Women of Hahndorf to be completely barking mad masochists.

The scenery through the Crafers/Stirling area of the trail was stunning. The dark autumn reds and yellows of the trees as seen through the mist were splendid and complimented the historical buildings beautifully.

Across the freeway on the footbridge and we were in Crafers preparing to make the last uphill climb before the descent from Eagle on the Hill to Burnside – The Old Bullock Track. The random assortment, or pack, of runners I had been running with since the start had spread out over the slow climb up to Stirling (with me bringing up the rear) and I thought I had been left behind.  But lo, as I came over a little rise on the way to Eagle on the Hill, there was the rest of them still “galloping” along. Had they slowed down? or was I going faster? Charging on, suddenly the group splintered again and I sprinted up the short hill to the final aid station as Chilliman fumbled in his bag for his camera…just getting it out in time… 

After the long gradual 18km of uphill it was refreshing to be finally running down and the legs just ticked over, drawing me quickly to the finish.

The top gate of the bullock track (otherwise known as “The Big Kahuna”) by the Friday Morning Running Group came and went. I knew how far (well I though I did) it was to the finish now!

Though I have seen it before, many times up the Big Kahuna, the view of Adelaide as you round the Mt Osmond golf course still took my breath away.  Everything was so green, the sun was shining, what a beautiful contrast to the autumn colours and mist of Stirling and Crafers.

This is were things got silly. Instead of heading straight down the “Centre Track”, the trail wound itself around the hillside in what seemed like never ending zig zags. At one point we ran a kilometer and were only 10 meters further down the hill! WHAT WERE THEY THINKING! “Surely the Pioneer Women were barking mad.” someone muttered, “If it was the Pioneer Men’s Trail we would have gone straight down the hill” someone else muttered (OK, that might have been me).

So add two kilometers to how far I thought it was to the finish at the top of Mt Osmond and then fast forward through zig after zig and zag after zag – there is me, belting down Glynburn Road at 4:30 pace, sprinting like a mad man for the finish – because I can, there was sausages to be eaten.

Now in the defence of the Pioneer Women, I am informed that the original trail did infact go straight down the hill and it was the wise old heads at the Department of Rec and Sport that decided it was too steep and that, in the interest of safety, they would add an infuriatingly frustrating wiggly bit to the end of a stunning trail.  (more photos)

Race Report – Greenbelt HM 2009, 21.1km

The Greenbelt and I have history. It was the first half marathon I ever ran, in 2006, and I have completed it every year since. That first year I struggled through the hail and walked quite a large portion of that last 2k to finish in 2hr11mins. The last two years I have run the Greenbelt with other races on my agenda, but I couldn’t miss it – it is a great, truly Adelaidian Course.

This year the numbers were up 30% on previous years and there were people everywhere at the start. As usual the bus ride from the finish line to the start line seemed to take for ever and had everyone thinking that they were mad running all the way back. Alas, the buses departed to ferry the 10km entrants and so there was nothing left to do but a few seconds of warming up and then gather at the start line with the other couple of hundred other runners.

It was rather an unceremonious start as the babble of the large crowd drowned out the starter and slowly the front runners moved off and we just followed like a conga line.

The start of a run for me is just about relaxing, getting comfortable and finding a groove. Today it took two kilometre to thaw out my toes, but I soon found my groove and started darting through the crowd until I found others in a similar groove.

What followed was another 15 kilometres of leap frogging, surging past people only for them to surge straight back past, 100m or even 10km later. I had a few of those flat moments where I am just hanging on for dear life to those around me to get me through without losing too much pace, but not as many as usual.

When I caught up to my new nemisis (he burnt me off over the last couple of 100 metres of the Carisbrooke Classic…you know who you are) he kept me from slacking off. So my pace didn’t dip but that didn’t stop one of the other runners I had been playing leap frog for 20 and half kilometres surge past with almost the finish line in sight.

By jingoes! I was not having that and one last surge and a short sprint-off later I got back the place by a nose (sorry red-shirted stranger, but thanks for the challenge).

(oh crap, stop the watch you idiot!)

1:52:57. NICE! Almost a 7 minute PB from the SMH Half of 2007. Superb day, superb run!

Victor Harbour Trail Run

Saturday morning didn’t start very well as I woke up with a cramp in my left calf. Never a good start. I have a feeling it was rather self induced following a hard run up The Goat Track on Friday morning and two too many amber ales on Friday night. This combination almost inevitably leads to a night time wake up call from a calf.

Despite the initial pain, the calf didn’t feel too bad once I was up and moving and Mrs Simlin and I set off for Victor Harbour. In all honesty, when Mrs Simlin asked me on the way how many people I was expecting to be at the run I estimated a dozen hardy individuals would make the trip.

Woah! 39 people signed up, not to mention the supportive families of a few runners. Following a few words of wisdom from TerryC and the trail coordinator Paul, we set off at a gallop for the first head land.

The first 6 kilometres was like one big photo shoot. Everywhere you looked there was stunning scenery. Around the first headland the track wound off into the distance atop Waitpinga Cliffs and the galloping gave way to rock hopping as we all turned into Mountain Goats.

The going was initially slow, 45mins for 4.5kms, but with all the rock avoiding and phototaking it was an understandably slow pace. The spectacular vistas of the Waitpinga Cliffs soon gave way to a few boardwalks and firetracks as we started to make our way around the boundary fence of Newland Head Conservation Park.

The firetrails weren’t that much different to parts of other trails we have covered this year in our monthly trail runs except for the sand. Being close to the sea, the trail got very sandy in places (which put a strain on the post-cramp calf) but the pace did lift a little.

I will be the first to admit that I found the run around the boundary fence quite boring compared to the clifftop running of the first 5km and I was glad to finally come upon the camping ground and a patiently waiting Mrs Simlin, which marked the far end of the trail run.

The group I was with pushed on quickly from the campground but I stayed around waiting for the rest of the runners as Mrs Simlin was going to give a few of them a ride back to the start. After a brief sit down and bottle of water I couldn’t bring myself to punish my legs (which were complaining horribly) any further by continuing on, especially with the convenience of a ride back to the start.

I later congratulated myself for making a wise decision as I hobbled around for the next two days with a very sore left calf.

On the way back to the start we made a brief site seeing detour to Waitpinga beach and then returned to greet the walkers who had finished their walk along the cliffs.

The battle reports of the return leg talked of a long steady 2k of uphill out of the camping ground fighting against the deep sand and surprise tree root attacks, followed by the rocky clifftop path on tired legs. Some even ventured into the ocean at the little beach just before the finish for a cooldown. Needless to say everyone returned to the carpark tired, weary and dirty (or wet) from a 27km trail run, wishing they had been no-where else on a fine Saturday morning.

More Photos.

Race Report – Carisbrooke Classic 2009, 10km trail.

On a beautiful Sunday morning, I made the short trip to the Harry Bowey Reserve for what would be my 3rd Carisbrooke Classic 10k. The weather was perfect (I think the Englishman used to training in -8 degrees I passed at the end of the first lap who seemed to be melting in the sunshine would disagree), the grass was green and the event well organised.
I use this event to gauge how my fitness for the year is progressing and then attempt to set realistic goal times for the Greenbelt and Barossa Half Marathons in May. Because of the trail like nature of the Carisbrooke course and the great training I have been doing at the monthly Trail Running Group runs I felt confident I could beat my previous best time over the Carisbrooke course of 55mins.
Standing around acquiring my race number and trying in vain to pin it on my top straight I thought the numbers looked down on last time, but as soon as John called us over to the start line I found myself surrounded by a throng of runners keen to get underway.
My race strategy has always been – start out slowly and conservatively and build up to a decent pace, so I placed myself at the back of the field and waited for the GO signal. Soon a cloud of dust was the only thing remaining at the start line as I quickly discovered that my slow, conservative pace, was no long a “back of the pack” slow and conservative pace. Alas, I was stuck there now until well after the first turn around where I could veer out onto the grass around some other runners to find some clear track.
I soon found some other runners to pace off and continued my way around the first lap trying to give encouragement to all runners I knew coming the other way. I ran past the start/finish area for 5km in 26mins and fell apart. The 6th kilometre has always been the hardest for me at Carisbrooke and this time was no exception. The runners I had been pacing off pulled away and I was left struggling, unable to maintain a 5min/km pace. The mood soon passed and I found my second 10k wind, but there was nothing left for the faster paced assault on the final 2km, which I normally enjoy thanks to the lax start. I had lost the mental battle and finished the second lap for 10k in 51min55sec by my watch. Not bad, and a 10k PB for me, so it looks like I will have to set my sights on a half marathon PB in May.
Post race turned into the usual banter, finding out who had run well, commenting on the accuracy of the course (no doubt as an excuse for a poor time, hehe), watching the pre-teens busting a gut over the 1km dash and complaining when all the random draw prizes seem to go to the place getters. No shoes for me again.
I hope there was a sizable amount of money raised for the Melissa White Foundation because the sausage sizzle was great, the marshals and drink station attendants were appreciated and this is one of my favourite events on the SARRC Calendar.

And So It Begins

Tomorrow is my first race for the year. The Carisbrooke Classic and so begins the lead up to the Adelaide Marathon 2009. The last time I completed the Classic was in the marathon year of 2007 and I finished in a touch over 55mins. I hope to smash that time tomorrow to prove to myself that I am way ahead of where I was 2 years ago. My 10km PB is 53:45 and my goal for the year is sub 50mins. I won’t be too devastated if I don’t do sub 50mins as it is still early in the year and I have really only just gone sub 25mins over 5k. Having said that, I will come home disillusioned if I don’t get a PB.

My race strategy (though it may change in the stomach knot twisting lead up to the start) is just to run as fast as I can, by listening to my body and pacing off those around me. I could set the Garmin Training Assistant to 5min/k pace, but I don’t want to put myself under that pressure and just want to see where I am at.

I better be at that magical PB place…you’ve been warned legs, lungs, heart, brain. Failure is not an option.

Kersbrook Forest

I woke up Saturday morning early and restless. I couldn’t get back to sleep. Only one thing for it I thought – head out to the run early. Seeing as the start time had been pushed out from the usual 7am to 7:30am, getting there early wouldn’t be too bad in case someone missed the time change.

The drive to Kersbrook was dark (we are coming to the end of Daylight Saving and it is still dark at 7am) and when I got to the car park there was no-one else there but the rabbits and roos. I spent the next 30minutes having a look around, getting my pack ready and taking some photos of the spectacular sunrise and the beautiful curves of our car.

Eventually I heard the familiar drone of a car coming along the dirt track that leads to the car park and then the first car appeared, followed by another, followed by another, followed by another and so on…6 cars arrived in the next 30 seconds…what? did they all follow each other? The last of the 6 to arrive was TerryC and as I wandered over to help him set up the table and sign on I commented that out of the other 5 cars I didn’t recognise anyone from any of the other trail runs…excellent.

Eventually a group of 30 to 40 odd people set off in a rather sporadic fashion. The early running was on fire trails and over low rolling hills along the edge of the forest with wide open grazing land on the right.

Soon we cut in through the wooded forest until we reached the reservoir…well at this end there wasn’t much reservoir-ing to observe as it was bone dry…around the reservoir and through the pine forest, where fallen logs criss-crossed the forest floor, leading to leaping, climbing and even crawling for some runners.

My favourite parts of the trail were definitely these intimate, shady and enclosed sections, were the wilderness envelopes the trail and provides a stark contrast to the rolling, open fire trails of the first few kilometres. Unfortunately I was too busy enjoying those parts to take any good photos, as the photos I did take came out blurry and indistinguishable.

Apart from a few short, sharp, steep sections in the back half of the run, there were no real long slogs. The longest hill was sufficient to provide a magnificent view back over to the Warren and Hale Conservation parks, but didn’t leave the calves screaming for a mercy.

The run back down the final hill to the car was a very welcome dash for the finish line as my knees and strangely enough, hips, were beginning to tell me, in the usual fashion, that I had carried 3 kilos of pack around on my back. This time, and for the first time since these monthly shenanigans started, I had finally completed the full length trail and stopped the Garmin at 22km in a tick over 3 hours.

What a pain in the…

Today I have my first ever Physio visit…and who would of thought it? it is not running related…I literally have a pain in the neck. You know the kind. You wake up one morning and it hurts to turn your head one specific way but not the other.

Well normally I would just tough it out for the day or two that it hurts, so I tried…5 days later it still hurt, so I made the appointment. I am now having my first taste of what it would be like to live with cronic pain…and I don’t like it. I skipped running on Wednesday and Thursday because I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. The constant pain made me feel depressed, exhausted, incapable of doing anything…well I could do things but I just did feel like doing anything.

When Thursday morning rolled around and it hurt the same as it did on Sunday, I bit the bullet and made an appointment. Behold! next thing you know and by that very same evening, the pain started to subside. I ran this morning, all the way to the top of Mount Osmond, and the pain is still there, though a bit more subdued than earlier in the week, so I will keep my appointment.

Those cronic pain sufferers out there are some tough cookies.

Dragging My Heels

This morning the SARRC group run was a relatively flat one for a Friday morning. The only problem with that was that without the hills to slow people down I was quickly left behind a majority of them as they raced off down the hill.

The steeper than gentle and the gentler then steep downhill is where I always get left behind. I like to coast too much and can’t bring myself to push harder down those medium slopes on an ordinary training run.  Maybe I should take up bike riding so I can free wheel down…nope…I value the skin on my face, palms and elbow too much for that.