Certosa di Pavia

This was a real wintry run. We headed out from the town along the street towards the Certosa and then just before reaching it we turned off to start a circuit. I'd looked at the map and picked what looked a simple route where we couldn't get lost, a big square around the Certosa.
Almost immediately we were in a little village and then out of it again. All around were frosty fields and it was colder than previous days. There were frozen irrigation channels and the area was totally flat. After a while Denis turned off on a side road, which was actually the route I had intended to take, but I decided to continue on.
I passed another village and went under the railway line, then I was able to run a bit off the road on a sort of dyke along a rice paddy. The water in the rice paddy wasn't frozen. Finally I came to another village where there was a small street market setting up. I was looking for the Certosa di Pavia railway station which should have been close by, and fortunately I saw someone to ask for directions. I went through the village and then ran through a passageway under the railway line. As I ran I could hear a train announcement but I never saw the station. It seems odd that Certosa di Pavia station is in a village with a different name (although the station is called Certosa di Pavia) - confusing for visitors at any rate.
I emerged onto a bigger road and was right opposite the back entrance to the Certosa, so I had a lovely view of it in all its grandeur. But after that I had to be content with running alongside the very high wall that surrounds the Certosa grounds. Oh, but I did see one other runner.

Christmas in Como

There only appeared to be one place to run from central Como but it was very good. We enjoyed a nice Christmas morning run along the lakefront path, passing the war memorials and stadium before reaching the Villa Olmio, one of the larger villas on the waterfront whose grounds you could actually go into.
From here we ran along the road which for a couple of kilometres is right by the water. The views across the lake to the hillsides dotted with small villages were lovely, in a slight haze. There were a few runners out and very little traffic. Then we came into Cernobbio, a longish town, and we parted company at the waterside promenade.
Not far out of Cernobbio I found myself running up a long hill. Beyond the town there was no footpath by the road and mostly not even a shoulder, but luckily there were almost no cars. There were intermittent lake views between the houses, which included some larger villas and hotels. Every tiny village appeared to have at least one old stone church with tower.
I had intended to turn back at Moltrasio Lido but it was so small I ran right past it without noticing it. I continued through Moltrasio and up another hill. When I got to the top of this one I decided it was time to turn around. Running back was fun too. Cernobbio was lively with pedestrians and the whole place had a scent of freshly baked pastries.
On Boxing Day I didn't go as far. I went past the Villa Olmio and on along the water to Cernobbio where I did a small loop by the promenade and turned back. It was hazy again by the water but the sun came out. There were a lot of runners out.
The next day I did the same. It was warmer, no haze and full sunshine. There were virtually no other runners. On my way back I did a detour through the Villa Olmio gardens on the hillside behind the villa. There would have been a wonderful view of the lake were it not for the villa in the way.

2 days in Bergamo

Yesterday was another nice clear morning and we set out to run around the walls of the upper town in Bergamo. The main street in the lower town was busy but the upper town was quiet, although we saw a number of runners.
This was quite a hilly run, especially ascending to the upper town, but the views from the walls, looking out over Bergamo, whose large size surprised us, were impressive. It was pretty much possible to follow the exact contour of the walls and this meant taking many detours around some little parks. On the far side of the upper town were residential areas and the views were out to countryside, where the ground was frosty. It was nice to see mountains on the horizon.
We had to go back after breakfast to tour the sights of the upper town properly.
I liked yesterday's run so much that I went back there this morning and did two laps of the upper town. I just got up to the walls of the upper town in time to see a wonderful red sunrise over the Bergamo valley

Brescia

A short run in Brescia which didn't turn out quite as planned. But it was a change to be in Italy and for the temperature to be above freezing and I only wore one layer. We intended to run the whole way around one of Brescia's hills, the one with the Castello. The route there involved narrow streets with cars and pedestrians, and then a winding climb up the hill.
Fortunately there were footpaths on the hillside leading right to the castle and beyond the main gate we were able to run all over the castle grounds. There were a few pedestrians around. From several vantage points we had great views over Brescia and the castle itself is pretty solid and impressive.
When we came down the castle hill we realised we had come down in the wrong place. But instead of retracing our steps we headed for another of Brescia's landmarks, the Capitolo. We couldn't go inside the grounds of the adjacent Roman temple and amphitheatre ruins but the Capitolo itself, with its partially reconstructed columns and roof, looked very fine.
We finished the run by crossing the Duomo (well, actually old and new duomo's) square.

Another Innsbruck run

I wanted to have a short run before heading off for a day's skiing. When I woke up and saw the totally clear blue sky I wondered if I should abandon the run and go straight to Kuhtai to ski, but the desire to run got the better of me and I set out on a short one.
This was a good move, since I got to see the mountains all around Innsbruck, whereas yesterday they were hidden by the fog. It was seriously cold, and soon I could see why: there was an icy wind and it was coming straight off a very snowy looking mountain range.
I did a loop around the river, running downstream from the Christmas market in town for a couple of bridges then crossing the river and heading upstream, past my starting point to the next bridge, and then back to the centre, and the Christmas market. Most of the time I was on a riverbank footpath so it was pleasant running despite the arctic breeze. I was very happy to get to see the Innsbruck backdrop, and I also enjoyed my trip afterwards to Die Bäker Ruetz. I've been to so many branches of this bakery but I can't help myself.
The skiing at Kuhtai was great, perfect bluebird day, except that the lifts seemed slow and the skiing part was over too fast!

Innsbruck river run

I had an enjoyable 16 kilometre run in Innsbruck this morning. Last time I ran  in Innsbruck was in 2006, the Tirol Speed Marathon, but I had also been for a training run there which was psychologically significant to me. The previous weekend I had had my most disastrous marathon ever, in Phuket, and it was not only hard but it was my fiftieth marathon. The way that marathon had panned out had really upset me. After this awful experience I worried that my running days might be over so, to reassure myself, I went for a run along the Inn River in Innsbruck a few days before the Austrian marathon. I remember this run very well because it seemed like make or break time, and it went well. I don't know how far I ran, I just stayed by the river.
So this morning I set out to follow the same route. I ran through the city centre, through the Christmas market, across the river and headed west, as I had last time. The whole Innsbruck valley was in a dense fog and at 8am it was hardly daylight yet. It clearly wasn't going to be a run with great scenery. There was some old snow around but the riverside path wasn't slippery.
The river wasn't flowing all that fast, unlike last time, which had been summer, but it was the same glacial blue. I saw a few other runners. After a while there was a tiny and short lived break in the fog over one part of the mountains and I had a peek of a couple of snowy peaks, but they soon disappeared again. Then I saw a church in the distance, and thinking it was on my side of the river I decided to to turn back when I reached it, but somehow I never reached it. (I later realised it was on the other side of the river.) Instead I found myself running along the perimeter of the airport. I didn't expect there to be much action at the airport with all the fog, but I saw one plane go up.
Just beyond the airport there was a bridge across the Inn so I decided to cross the river and head back into Innsbruck on the other side of the river. Since there was a motorway close by that bank of the river I knew the path wouldn't be as nice as the one I had been following, but the idea of a loop run is always enticing.
The start of the trail on the other side was fine, until I came to a tiny creek-like branch of the river that didn't have any kind of bridge for crossing. I was surprised. The creek was too wide to jump. Luckily I noticed a sort of natural weir where there were lots of trapped logs and branches and I managed to scramble across. Almost immediately I came to another such creek, but with a bit of a detour I found the main path again. As I hit the main path I came across a couple out walking and I checked with them that the path I was on went to Innsbruck because I didn't want any more scrambling.
The rest of the run was unproblematic, but noisy from the traffic.
Later on the skies cleared and it was a beautiful sunny day, with great views of the mountains.

Morning in the Stubai Valley

Another short run at a ski town, this time in the Stubai valley. I wasn't expecting to see any other runners out there, but I had seen one yesterday afternoon so I knew that running wasn't unheard of here. I found a figure 8 route on the map and gave it a shot. Anyway, even if you run along the main road it's nice here, pretty houses on the hillsides and mountains all around. Quite honestly the houses look as if they have been put on the hillsides, linked by narrow zig-zagging roads, to make the scenery even more appealing, but I'm sure that wouldn't be the case. I think life through the long cold winter can't always be fun, even if you ski.
I ran though the town, Neustift, which was quiet on a Sunday morning, and found my riverside trail. It had a bit of old snow on it but it wasn't slippery. It was slightly uphill. This river wasn't frozen, and the water was lovely and clear, the bottom was pebbly. The trail didn't go very far, only to the next village, where I crossed a branch of the river and did a loop through a snowy meadow before turning back for town.
For the second half of the route I went back through town and headed out in the other direction, where I could again pick up a riverside trail. This trail passed the town's own gondola which goes up a mountain right from the town, but it wasn't running. This part of the trail went through a series of meadows beside the river and then met up with the main road. I had a kilometre along this road to take me back to my hotel.
Only a short 7.5 kilometre run but I felt envigorated for the day ahead.

Early morning run in Sölden

Well, not that early. I had to wait for daylight first. I thought it would be nice to run along the river because it's a very pretty river partly because of being frozen in places. I managed to stay by the river bank through town, having to switch from side to side several times, and there certainly weren't any other runners about.
Once out of town I noticed a sealed path heading a bit away from the river and going through a little village so I followed that one. I thought it would eventually lead me back to the river. But soon it started to climb, and climb, and climb, until I was way above the river. The path was no longer sealed, just dirt, and it seemed to be an access path to several hillside huts among pastures..
Looking back, the view towards and beyond Sölden was wonderful: the town is in such a narrow steep-sided valley. I could see lots of snowy peaks among the many, many mountain tops. After a while the path went into forest and its condition deteriorated. As I came to a very long frozen waterfall I decided to turn back. I was concerned because if anything happened to me, like a fall, there was just nobody around and it was cold.
I hadn't been feeling cold until now but I realised my hands were freezing even though I wore gloves.  My left hand was aching where I hurt it when I fell in La Saintélyon. The return run was much easier, having a lot of downhill. It was great to run towards the fabulous view over Sölden especially as the sun was by now illuminating the higher mountain tops.

My Running Year

2016 - Reflections on my running year

2016 was the year I decided to try not to run any marathons. Having just run my 200th in December 2015 I wanted to take my time to savour the accomplishment. I also worried that I had got into a bit of a rut running nothing but marathons and that I should run some other distances for variety, even if I ultimately returned to running marathons.

Back in January I wasn't at all sure how the year would pan out. And, in fact, my first experience of not running a marathon was not a good one. I lined up for a half marathon in Germany, the Johannesbad Thermenmarathon, feeling pleased with myself for being able to resist running the full marathon, and the day did not go well. I was reduced to a walk early on and all I could say to myself for comfort was 'thank goodness I didn't sign up for the full marathon'.

I didn't do much in the way of races in the first months of the year, also part of a new strategy of not entering as many events as possible. In 2015 I had run 23 marathons and one ultra, and I decided that ten ultras was an appropriate goal for this year. Again, I wasn't sure if I would be able to stick to this; the lure of a race can be great.

Then I got to planning a trip to America in June/July and the pressure was on. I selected three ultras, of which the McCall Trailrunning Classic 40 Mile was to be my goal race. This one would really take me out of my comfort zone, I believed, but it sounded wonderful on paper. And as it turned out, this race was without a shadow of doubt the highlight of my running year. The course was so spectacularly beautiful that it wins my gold medal easily. It was a hard race but maybe not quite as hard as I expected, and I was pleased with my level of fitness which enabled me to tackle the many hard climbs.

This year, while at home, I had managed to run trails often, and for the first year in a long while I had not been so preoccupied with tapering and recovering from marathons. This meant I could do harder training runs all year and some of the routes I picked in the Dandenongs were nasty. I ran the Brimbank 50 km, Oxfam Trailwalker 100 km, Great Ocean Road 44 km and then the Mount Macedon 50 km before my US trip.

I felt wonderful on the day of the Great Ocean Road 'Marathon' and was all set for a course PB but the weather did not cooperate, with strong winds and even hail.  I missed my PB by one minute. The Macedon race was a perpetual series of hills and tested my early year preparation. I was happy with my result, even though I ran an extra 5 km by mistake. The big payoff came in July in MCall, Idaho. Actually my payoff started in the preceding two ultras I did, the St Mary's Peak 50 km in Oregon and the Afton Trail Race 50 km in Minnesota.

At both of those races I felt well in control. At Mary's Peak I got all the mud I had been expecting (but not got) at Macedon, and people lamented the hail and fog, but I loved the atmosphere brought on by the bad weather and didn't mind missing the coastal views because I wouldn't have had time to enjoy them had they been available. I felt so confident before the Afton race that I even said to someone in the car park that I didn't think the race would be as hard as it sounded on the website; dangerous words, but although I accepted that the course had lots of hills, none of them were individually anything like as hard as what I had been doing in training.

In August I did something I haven't done for years: I changed my mind about doing a race, cancelled my accommodation and enjoyed a weekend at home when I had planned to be away. This was partly due to a sore calf, but mainly because I realised the choice was available to me. I simply didn't have to do the race if I didn't want to. Sounds facile enough, but this was a big deal for me.

I also seriously contemplated running a couple of marathons that I have much enjoyed in the past, Wagga Wagga and Adelaide, but was able to resist the temptation by assuring myself that I can run these next year.

I went back to Walhalla for the 50 km in September. This had been my 200th marathons-and-ultras-combined race on my birthday in 2014. It went ok this year except that I was in a bit of a grumpy mood for two reasons: I was made to take the early start because my speed was deemed too slow for the normal start and I don't like being made to face up to my slowness like that; there were too many four wheel drivers on the course making lots of noise and impinging on my running track.

In October I had a dilemma because I didn't want to do the Melbourne Marathon, for reasons already explained, but I wanted to be home to be able to go out for my daughter's birthday dinner on marathon day. By an amazing stroke of luck I was able to do the Hume and Hovell 50 km on the Saturday and be home for Sunday evening. This race was mentally the hardest I did this year, at least in the way it compared with my expectations beforehand. Right from the start I found the going tough and I realised I was going to have a problem with dehydration on a warm day where I had to mostly carry my own refreshments. I suddenly understood why lots of people like to run the same races year after year: knowing the course can be a big advantage when the going gets tough. Had I known this course I may have experienced a different sort of day. I would have known that the difficult terrain of the first 13 kilometres does not continue all day, that the very long hill does have a summit and that there is a substantial section of not too hard running in the second half.

So it was with pleasure that I turned up for the Marysville 50 km. I knew the course, I knew it was hard and all I could think was: bring it on. The Saturday before the race was challenging; I couldn't wait for the race to start. I was in a great head space all race and I loved it. The only thing bothering me was that I thought I had finished in a slower time than last year despite feeling better this year and having done all that hill training. The day after the race I looked up last year's results and was pleased to see that I had indeed finished faster this year; I pride myself on remembering my race results but this time I hadn't remembered correctly.

And those were my ten ultras for the year. But it doesn't end there because I had also signed up for a very unusual race in France in December, one year to the day after my 200th marathon.

I pondered whether or not to do La Saintélyon for ages, well, for at least a week. It wasn't so much the distance, the 72 km, that worried me, it was the fact that the race starts at midnight. I couldn't imagine how you go right through a day, stay up well past your bedtime and then run for hours and hours. I read several blogs by previous competitors and came to understand that many competent runners take 12-13 hours to do this thing. I didn't even have a decent head torch. But when I saw that the field is capped at 8000 runners I thought: if that many people can do it I probably have a reasonable chance too. And it turned out fine. Hard, but fine.

In addition to these races and all those mornings in the Dandenongs and at Lysterfield, I am going to remember very fondly my two days on the Yurrebilla Trail in Adelaide in November. This was my little adventure, running the trail on my own. I hadn't anticipated running the trail in such hot weather and I had expected there to be some water available along the way. It was a tough run for me, but more picturesque than I had expected, and I was happy to be able to have such a satisfying non-race experience.

La Saintélyon, France, 3 December 2016

La Saintélyon is a long race at a strange time of day where you don't get to see much: 72 kilometres, starting just before midnight in Saint-Étienne and finishing in Lyon, and you'll only be running in daylight if you are on the slow side. I liked the sound of something a bit different, even though it's usually all about the scenery for me.

Standing on the start line for an hour before things got under way, the temperature below zero, I was shivering uncontrollably beneath four layers of clothing. I had just woken up from an hour's sleep on the cold stone floor of the huge hall where runners waited for the start time to come around; I had not expected to fall asleep but I was very glad to get a real rest right before the race. Now as I stood there I tried to convince myself that this was like any other race starting in the dark in the early morning (except that it wasn't yet early morning, it was late evening). It's all about the mental games. I had gone outside to the start line so early because I wanted to be sure to get into the first of the six starting waves that were necessitated by the huge number of runners, 8000 in all. The 9000 other runners in the shorter events would be starting closer to Lyon and we would be passing their start lines on our route.

Once we got going I was warm almost immediately and regretting my top layer, a fleece vest. The early kilometres in Saint-Étienne were well lit but it was just factory after factory, car and bus yards and nothing of interest. I discarded my fleece onto the footpath, a bit reluctantly but I had no way of carrying it. (I had a sentimental attachment to it as it was at least 15 years old.) I didn't have a pack with me, just a waist belt with pockets and a hand held bottle.

Soon we hit our first country lane and it was pitch black. I hoped my new head torch would work well for me. It was really foggy and I couldn't see any moon or stars. We seemed to be running by farmland judging from the smells, but if the surrounding countryside was hilly or flat, forested or cleared I had no idea. I could only see frost, lots of frost, on both sides of the road. We were climbing and it was getting colder. Runners were chatting gaily and although we were all quite close together it was an eerie feeling.

The best part about the whole night time experience was looking forward or back and seeing the long line of lights from all the runners' head torches, snaking through the blackness. Sometimes the lights zigzagged upwards or downwards and sometimes they stretched forever in a solitary thin line.

By the time we reached our first village, 16 kilometres done, I was ready for some excitement: a floodlit church on top of a hill. And there were people out in the streets to cheer us, even at this ungodly hour. The aid station was in a hall, a heated hall, and offered all sorts of delights. The aid stations were a high point of the event; there were only five of them but they were all except one in a warm hall with an array of foodstuffs. I had to tell myself not to linger because I thought the warmth would make me sleepy. There was water, Pepsi and hot drinks, and then chocolate, Madeleine cakes, cheeses, salamis, crackers, mandarins, bananas and more. I found that the little cakes, chocolate and mandarins were perfect, and I'm ashamed to say I drank nothing but Pepsi the entire night. It kept me awake at least.

I took off my top layer, a windproof jacket, and wrapped it around my waist. I still wore a thin thermal and a longsleeeved running shirt. I was completely comfortable at this body temperature despite the chilly air. Some runners wore really thick jackets but there again some runners wore shorts (and the organisers had specifically warned against this).

From here there was much less road running and a lot of trails through forest. The trails were rocky and undulated but we were predominantly climbing. There was leaf litter constantly underfoot and it disguised a lot of hazards. Runners were tripping all over the place on rocks and roots. I slipped many times but without falling .....yet. Where there wasn't leaf litter there was mud, lots of it. The French seemed a little reluctant to get their feet dirty but I ploughed straight through it. In some past editions there has been a lot of snow along here.

Another village, another hall and we ran on through the dark night. We went in and out of forest and contoured along hillsides. Sometimes there were people standing at a road junction shouting 'allez' or 'courage' . Not one person tried to tell us 'almost finished'. The runners around me grew quieter. I began to recognise the same people as they pulled away and I would catch them again. I felt reasonably good as we hit the start of the 44 kilometre race. Despite my natural timidity I wasn't the slowest on the downhills (I wasn't the fastest either, some bombed downhill like maniacs) and I was able to pass people on the uphills. There was a fair bit of downhill as we had now passed the highest point on the run. The fog had lifted but there was still nothing to see. It was in the forest at around half way that I had my first fall. I slipped on a large rounded rock and went flat on my bum. It was a big surprise. I had had a sore back coming into the race and the fall made me reflect that now I would have a different back pain to focus on.

Not long after I was doing a hilly section that was especially muddy when I did that classic thing where you lift up your foot but your shoe is still in the mud. I instinctively grabbed the hand of another runner, which was fine as the French are very friendly, and both he and someone behind me gave me a push up, thinking I was having trouble with the steepness of the hill. I was more concerned about leaving my shoe behind and having to run just in a sock! Fortunately I was able to explain that I didn't want to say goodbye to my shoe just yet. My sock was encased in thick gloop but I just pushed it straight back in the shoe; I didn't even undo the shoelace.

As we reached the village where the 21 kilometre race started, some 51 kilometres down the track for us, I realised I was really hungry. I had to make sure to grab plenty of food. This was the lowest I felt the whole night; quite suddenly I was engulfed by an overwhelming exhaustion but I knew there was still some way to go. The route through the village to the aid station was a long winding downhill which seemed like it went on forever. But as I left the village hall I felt totally renewed.

The first kilometre out of this village was all pleasant downhill running so I carried the food in my hand, waiting for an uphill walking break to eat it. And then all of a sudden I went splat, I slipped on the icy road and took the full force of my fall with my left hand, the one that didn't have the food. This fall really hurt. I was worried I had broken my hand but there was nothing I could do about it. I did learn that where the roads were icy it was better to run on the crusty, frost covered grass as it was less slippery. The problem was that you often couldn't see if the road was icy or not and you didn't know until you started slipping or saw others falling. 'Ça glisse' became a common cry.

I was rather surprised at the good pace of the runners around me; they were motoring along when I would have expected a bit more of a death march after 50-60 kilometres. But this may have been a reaction to the long downhills and our leaving the twisty forest trails. Pretty soon most people appeared to slow down again.

Within five kilometres of my fall there was a hint of daylight. There had been cocks crowing well before this but they were only a false alarm. Once daylight came we only got to see foggy meadows covered in frost. We ran alongside a creek for a while and passed through our last village with 11 kilometres to go. Those last kilometres were far too long. They included a long hill as we returned into Lyon and a stretch along the Roman aqueduct (which I'm ashamed to say is the only tourist site I saw in my time in Lyon), and we had to climb down to the river bank and back up again on long flights of stairs. I made myself run, even on the uphills, just so I would get to the finish faster; by now almost no one was running. The river was very smelly but when I saw it I recalled with pleasure that it was close to the finish. Finally I was crossing the courtyard and entering the Halle Tony Garnier where I could run under the finish arch while spectators in the grandstand cheered. It was a nice touch, this indoor finish.

The finish area was not well organised and it was hard to work out where you were meant to go. I kept trying to get into the various areas through the exit instead of the entrance and the security guards were rather too enthusiastic in patrolling their patches. It wasn't just me, in the space of about five minutes two other runners asked me where I had got my T shirt and meal. Although the food at the aid stations had been great, the meal at the finish was disappointing: instant noodles. In France! I didn't spend long in the eating area. I went to the first aid post to get my hand looked at; the medical post was far less busy than I would have expected. They asked me an awful lot of questions and then wanted me to lie down while I waited for the doctor, but I knew I would fall asleep if I lay down. Anyway, he said nothing was broken and bandaged it up.

There's a nice conclusion to this little adventure. I went back to my hotel to shower and lie down, and then as I didn't actually know my finish time I went online to have a look and I was amazed to see I had won my age group, Veterans 3. There was a trophy for first place in each age group and I saw from the race program that the awards ceremony was starting in ten minutes' time. So I rushed back to the Halle Tony Garnier. My 9 hours 33 minutes was ahead of my expectations. The ceremony was held on a large podium with lots of Lyon dignitaries and a lot of cheek kissing. Being a charming Frenchman, the host said to me that I could not possibly be that age!