The Compass Club Cockle Creek Half Marathon

 

As it was a 400-kilometre drive from Devonport to Cockle Creek, we left late on Thursday morning and drove down to Oatlands where we stayed for the night in the overflow RV parking area—including with another couple whom we later saw drive into Cockle Creek for the run (and I later booked him up to instal a diesel heater in our van because we had some very cold nights down there). During that night I made the decision to opt out of participating in the Tassie Trail Fest’s 45k event in July because the monstrous elevation, along with my lack of having been able to train, would see me fail to finish the course. Even though the van was already packed, it was still mid-morning before we drove out of Oatlands, having been to the ATM and bought a takeaway coffee. We refuelled at Kempton (including filling a jerry can) and made our way through Hobart, finally stopping at Dover where we made ourselves a sandwich and stretched our legs on the foreshore path, before continuing further south.

After setting up the van and being welcomed by Superb Fairy-wrens that hopped around our feet (with one getting into the car) Val and I looked at the first part of tomorrow’s track and it was wet, muddy and slippery—even the boardwalk was slippery. We stopped after a few hundred metres because of water over the track as we didn’t want to get our feet wetter than what they already were. That night, Darlene and Jackie popped in and told us that the course had been changed and will now run 7k from the Whale Statue to Recherche Community Hall and then back to the statue before returning to the hall because there were trees down over the track at around 4k into the event. Given the dangers that that could pose to runners, the organiser made the right decision to go for the alternate course. This is the third time in six years that he has had to make this difficult decision—but a very wise decision indeed. We will now run the entire race on a gravel and dirt road with many puddles to navigate. And while we will miss the trail run and not be able to get our photo looking out towards Antarctica, we will still have our race to compete in. Thus, I opted to use a pair of old road shoes rather than my trail shoes and flirted with the idea of not using my running vest—but, upon reflection during the long hours of the night, decided to take it with me for what I thought I needed.

I had very little sleep during the night and when I looked outside there were stars—a far cry from all the rain we have been having for a few days. Maybe, just maybe, we will get a fine day for our race. However, when I was up at 5:15 am the cloud was building up again. After a couple of mugs of tea and 500g of rice pudding I dressed ready for our friends to pick us up and take us to the start. And the drizzle started! And I felt nauseous and wanted to vomit—but I couldn’t! Just before the start I realised that I didn’t have my phone, so I went back to the car to try and find it—but it was nowhere to be seen. Thinking that I must’ve left it in the van I decided that I would get it on the way. Following the briefing, with another apology for the change of course, we were directed to gather behind the starting gate. As usual, I chose the very back row to start. And then we were off. I was the last person away but it only took a few hundred metres before I began to catch others who had taken off a bit too fast. However, a bit after the first kilometre I ducked off the course to the van to get my phone—but again it was nowhere to be found. As I reluctantly locked the van, Val pulled up and I searched the car again—and, lo and behold, there it was in the pocket of my wet weather running jacket. I estimated that I had lost close to 3 minutes and there were now no other runners in sight as I took off again. By the time I had run to around 3k I saw some others in the distance and began to slowly reel them in. That’s my way of running from the rear of the field as I see myself as an old greyhound aiming to run down the “bunnies” who are in front of me. That encourages me to keep going. And all the while the drizzle kept up! The scenery was magnificent. Low and threatening cloud hung low over the mountains; patches of mist drifted in front of mountains; and the water gently lapped the beaches—and then we ran though rain forest with moss-covered forest giants standing tall; there were vibrant patches of manferns beside the road; delicate fungi abounded; birds sung to their heart’s content and Superb Fairy-wrens hopped around—and still one could hear the gentle sound of the water continuing to lap the beaches. If this was so stunning in its beauty then what must the original trail have been like as it wound its way down to the south coast. There’s always next year if I’m so inclined.

The road, as I’ve mentioned, was gravel but that included sections of dirt and some hardish sand. There were puddles aplenty to step around—and I avoided them like the plague. Even so, my shoes and socks were quite wet by the end of the run. However, the road wasn’t too slippery at all, which was good, and that made running all the easier. There were a couple of times when the sun was obviously trying, though in vain, to break through the cloud cover and its sheen could be seen on the water.

So, how did I go? Apart from running without stopping—I even ran all the hills—I was very happy with my race. For over twelve months now I’ve had knee problems. Even with that problem I did the Scottsdale Rail Trail 27k in September and then the Gone Nuts 50k in March. But the knee was just getting worse. I saw my exercise physiologist some months ago and he gave me exercises and a reduced programme. For a few weeks I just walked then introduced easy runs twice a week, with an increase to three runs a week for the last couple of weeks. Last Monday week I had a 15-16k training run but I had to abort that at 14k as I had had it—and my last kilometre was around 10:00/k! That’s been my preparation. At the start, I had hoped that I might be able to run the course in under 2:30—which I did! So that was a plus. Strava gave me a recorded distance of 20.81k in an elapsed time of 2:23:53 (my moving time was 2:19:37 which took into account my searching for my phone and stops for photos) at an average pace of 6:55/k (far slower than my average of 6:19/k at Scottsdale) and the elevation gain was 136 metres. AND I even came first in my age group—though I was the only participant!!! Following my norm, every time I caught up with someone, I didn’t just run past them. I stayed with them for a while, running beside them to check on how they were and to encourage them on their journey to the finish line—whether that be those in the 7k or the 21k. It’s something I love to do, even though it slows me down—but at 72 there is no way that I’m going to threaten anyone for a podium finish. So, I just run for the sheer pleasure and joy of running. I’m a bit strange as I usually have a cool down run that goes back along the course to run people home. There was a young mum (hey, everybody is young compared to me) with whom I ran for a couple of kilometres until the 18k mark when I told her that I was going to take off and when I ran back to her, she threw her arms around me in appreciation and wanted photos taken with me and a couple of her friends at the finish! All during the event most people were shouting out words of encouragement to others. What a great running community we are part of—for even though we are competing in a race we do so with a great attitude!!!

And my knee? Well, it held up remarkably well and I hardly felt it at all during the whole event, though there is a bit of soreness in it two days later. So now I am definitely looking forward to this year’s Scottsdale Rail Trail—and I’m hoping I can get enough preparation done to enter the 54k event! Bring it on! And Bruny? Well, I’ll just have to wait and see about that one!

Gone Nuts 50k 2021

A month out from the event I had a four-hour run through Don Reserve, up and down North and James Streets, over The Bluff and along the cycleway to River Road at Ambleside. I thought that I was doing reasonably well but, on my return leg, I really slowed down and came to the conclusion that this year’s Gone Nuts 50k would have to be the last long run I ever did. From then on, I would have to limit myself to parkrun events. However, by the next day I had changed my mind and was already planning future events. I even wondered whether it would be possible for me to run the Gone Nuts 75k as a 75-year-old and I also began to think about celebrating my 75^th birthday by running our Devonport parkrun course 15 consecutive times, starting with the event, having my time recorded and then continuing on for another 14 times. But, in the days before Gone Nuts I began to be rather apprehensive. Would my aging legs hold up for 50k? Would I be able to handle the hills? And would my knee, which has been a bit sore for some time, allow me to keep going? Doubts filled my mind, but as I had already registered, I was going to start and endeavour to have the same attitude as that of John Stephen Akhwari who represented Tanzania in the marathon in the 1968 Mexico City Olympics. It’s a story that brings tears to my eyes as I watch highlights of his run!

He was never likely to win the marathon, but his chances were wrecked when, perhaps because of the effects of the high altitude, he succumbed to cramps that slowed his progress. If that was painful, then worse was to come after he was involved in a melee of athletes jockeying for position. He fell to the ground, gashing his knee and also causing a dislocation. He also smashed his shoulder against the pavement. Most observers, seeing his injuries, assumed he would pull out and go to hospital. Instead, he received medical attention and returned to the track to continue his race. His pace, of course, was now much slower, but his resolve to complete the event remained intact. Eighteen of the 75 starters had pulled out; he did now wish to add to that number. And so, more than an hour after the winner, he crossed the line in last place, cheered home by a few thousand spectators who had remained in the stadium after the sun went down. By the time he reached the stadium, he was limping and the bandage around his leg was flapping in the breeze. He was asked why he’d carried on, and his response has gone down in sporting history. “My country did not send me 5,000 miles to start the race,” he said. “They sent me 5,000 miles to finish the race.”

We were awake before the alarm went off at 4:00 am, not having slept as well as needed. And so it was up to make a cuppa and have my 500g rice pudding for breakfast. At 5:15 am we headed off to the area behind the Rocky Cape Roadhouse where my run was to commence. What a crowd had gathered, but not all were competitors. I joined the line up for the toilets, but somehow dropped my headlamp as I left the queue to scan the QR Code to say that I was there. I re-joined the queue, after searching around for my headlamp, but by the time I was next in line everyone had been called to the start. Thus, I missed being there when they all set off. It certainly meant that I fulfilled my desire to be at the rear of the field at the start—this is my favourite starting position for these long races. I know that I am slower than most and I don’t want to get caught in a scramble for positions. Besides, it is always far better to be passing people who have taken off too fast (or at least faster than I do) than have multitudes overtake me because I started too fast and couldn’t keep going at that pace. And, at my stage of life, as I’m not likely to be in the running for a prize. I’m out for an enjoyable day’s stroll.

I made sure that I crossed the starting mat then headed along Rocky Cape Road slowly hauling in a number of walkers and runners until I caught up with Leigh Evans. From there on in we basically ran together until Sisters Beach, though there were times when he was far out in front of me and times when I was out in front of him. It was great to have his company along the first 18k and he was a great encouragement to me. As the first signs of dawn appeared, we had reached the end of the road (at least the end of the road for us) and turned to head up our first hill through the Rocky Cape NP. The track was quite sandy in places, but, of course, it soon changed and became rather stony. All the while I had to remind myself to watch my feet and not have the trip of a lifetime that would put me out of the race. I was certainly walking the hills—the only thing that I would be capable of doing if I wanted to get to the end. Dawn began to break as the sun rose above the horizon. I was able to look back to where Val had been for this, our first ascent, and could see lights bobbing along the track behind me. There were times when the track seemingly disappeared under a thick matting of grasses and bushes so I had no idea where I was putting my feet. We twisted and turned around rocks and up and down hills as we put more and more distance behind us. Each kilometre was an important point for me in counting down how much I had run and what percentage of the run was left to complete. Each 5k was a milestone and represented 10% of the total distance I had to cover. I always find this a helpful way to handle any event in which I am participating.

I have an old man’s bladder and, when I reached what I thought was a convenient spot, I let Leigh go on while I went off the track behind some low bushes. Unfortunately, I hadn’t allowed enough time for the young lady whom we had passed and had to apologise to her when she came passed where I was standing. By now Leigh was well ahead. Occasionally I could see him powering ahead—I thought that he was sprinting to put as much distance between us as he could. He was certainly on a roll and going great guns. And all the time, I was slowly catching up with and passing other runners. My 2-litre bladder of water was somehow leaking and I think that it was from the mouthpiece. This meant that my right side was saturated. Now, that mightn’t be too bad in the middle of the day but it was still early and still quite cold at 5^o. When I was running in gullies, before the sun had risen over the hills, so that I was in the shade and the breeze was blowing I felt rather cold on that side of my body. I was taking frequent sips of either flat Coke, which didn’t fully appeal to me, or my Powerade to keep going. I hadn’t taken any of my gels at this stage, which later on proved to be a bit of a mistake. I successfully passed the spot where I had taken my first tumble two years ago. How vivid was that memory of lying in the bushes on my back struggling to get up with no one around me to offer help before Darlene and Lisa had caught up with me. So, on I kept, enjoying the solitude, continuing to take care but still having lots of trips and stumbles, especially with my right foot catching things, but I didn’t fall. Ever since I injured the tendon in the ankle at Bannockburn Bush parkun in February 2020 it has never been the same as it both flops to the ground and doesn’t lift far enough—especially as I tire.

I had made up a “cheat sheet” of my splits from two years ago but had forgotten to bring it from the van so I had no idea how I was going in comparison. All I knew was that I had to run this first half slowly enough to be able to finish off the run satisfactorily with a PB. A PB shouldn’t have been out of the question since about 70% of that previous run was with cracked ribs. But as someone who likes statistics, I enjoy comparing how I am going compared to previously or whether I am on schedule.

Then there was a low-lying section where the track was a bit muddy and I could feel the wetness seep through my shoes as I didn’t bother to try and keep to the slower method of getting over it. Oh, well! There was some very narrow boardwalk crossing boggy sections which was much appreciated and then it was along a recently slashed fire-type trail, at the end of which there were containers of water for those who needed to replenish. Then we were into Anniversary Bay and it was here that I caught up with Leigh as we plodded together along the sandy beach, trying to find the firmest surface upon which to run. At the end of the beach there was a brutal climb up steep steps that seemingly didn’t end—but we had great views back over Anniversary Bay. And still I hadn’t had a gel but it wasn’t affecting me at all as I felt strong. We approached a long and steep downhill run where I left Leigh and then it was the final stretch into Sisters Beach where Val was waiting for me and my good news that I had arrived there without having fallen. Bruce (Val’s brother) and his wife Sue had come walking up the track to see what it was like. It was great to see them. Sue was taking photos and Bruce jogged me down and kept telling me that I was running strongly. I made sure that I had the first of my gels so Val could see that I had it while walking. After a kiss (that’s with Val, not Bruce) I kept on, with Bruce pacing me for a bit up the road where I noticed that I was running at 6:10 pace. At the fire station, where a volunteer checked my number, I had some Coke (freshly poured so that it wasn’t flat) and grabbed myself a Cliff bar to start nibbling. It felt strange running along this section without my two guardian angels (Darlene Jacques and Lisa Beresford) from 2019, especially when I crossed the bridge where I had taken a photo of them. Following the fire trail for a bit I managed to pass another couple of fellow runners before starting up the Postmans Track. I wondered how it got that name because it was a rough, stony track if a postie had used it with a horse to deliver mail. There was more overgrown trail to navigate but I managed to do that successfully and spent time running with Ruth Orr who, with her husband, was part of a relay team. She had already had a fall and we were into a rather difficult downhill section where it wasn’t so easy to keep your feet. She lost her footing but simply sat on her bottom. After helping her up we continue on together for a bit when, after helping her through a fence, I left her behind as I made my way over a rocky area. I was so glad that I’ve tended to find rock hopping fairly easy to do, but I still did so gingerly to try and avoid a disastrous fall. We had to take the high tide route around one stony section of coastline, with it twisted with tight turns before heading back down to the coast where there were more rocks to clamber over and around. Bruce was there again as I made my way off the rocks and up a pathway (Sue was there taking photos again) to reach the road for the final run down into Boat Harbour where Val was taking her copious number of photos. As Bruce paced me along the road, I saw that we were running at 5:50 pace. Perhaps a bit too fast, but it didn’t feel uncomfortable.

This was another checkpoint where I had two cups (only partly filled) of freshly poured, bubbly Coke before heading off again with Bruce taking beach photos and encouraging me on. I didn’t have the energy to jump down onto the beach so ran along the small retaining wall until I could use the ramp. So now I was into the final half of my run. I had reached Boat Harbour in a fraction over 4 hours and was even contemplating a time of close to 8 hours. As it was low tide, I was able to run on the sand for quite a bit until I was forced to run on the rocks again. Up ahead of me was Cherie Lowe who wasn’t finding it as easy to navigate the rocks. I, however, was rock hopping quite happily from rock to rock to sand but, looking down from one rock I saw sand so stepped down, only to find I was ankle deep in crystal clear water. Both feet landed in it and both shoes and socks were saturated. It was my own stupid fault for not being more careful. Catching up to her we spent time walking and running together up hill and down dale. Just out of Boat harbour was a small shack where a family were camped and had water and nibbles for anyone who wanted some. Back up the hills through paddocks that were rough to navigate as cattle had left hoof marks; where the slasher had been so we had a clearer path to travel over, we continued on together until I told Cherie to go ahead and not let me hold her back. I watched her slowly go ahead walking and running. At times I appeared to be gaining on her, but it didn’t last long and she was soon out of sight or way off in the distance. There were now lots of folding ladders that were being used as temporary stiles so we could climb over fences. About 5k out of Boat Harbour a landowner couple and their grandson had set up an aid station with bottles of water and dozens of boxes of Cadbury Favourites for us to help ourselves to. Neal Ames caught me at this aid station, but I got away before he did. I had a water, topping up my Powerade flask and drinking the rest before, having thanked them for their generosity, I plodded on, my pace having slowed considerably. I was having, as I did for so much of the run, to keep my head down to look where I was putting my feet rather than at the stunning scenery. So often, when I did look up and around me, I stumbled by kicking a stone. Fortunately, none of these had me sprawled out on the ground. It wasn’t long before Neal caught up with me on one of the long uphill sections and we spent a fair amount of time running and walking together through cattle-roughened paddocks and on flattened stubble.

I paused briefly to speak to a lass sitting beside Tollymore Road. She had had to pull out of her race but was waiting for her husband and a friend. At the top of the road Val, along with Bruce and Sue, were again waiting. Not needing anything, Neal and I pushed on through the gate. On the downhill sections I was easily able to outpace him but once we hit the hills it was a totally different story as he left me behind. So, it was a parting of the ways. After running through bush, it was back onto farmland and then I reached what has been called Heartbreak Hill. It was long. It was steep. But I began to pass many of the walkers from the 25k event. Part of the way up I stopped for a lady who was in obvious discomfort. She told me she had an elevated heart rate and would consider her options at the top of the hill. I told her that, from memory, this was the last steep climb to the lighthouse and that it was then basically downhill after that. I had been finding the going hard and was wondering whether I was getting a bit dehydrated and needing more gels. At the top was another wonderful farm couple giving out water (with ice if wanted) and jelly beans. I had a quick drink, took a bag of jelly beans, thanked them profusely and ran on along the road. Shortly after that, the route went off the road and up into the bush—it was steep and dusty and had some more technical places to get over and around. I began to wonder if that lady would curse me. On looking back over the results, I saw that she did finish, so that was good. After another steep descent on soft track, during which I kept passing walkers, it was on to a flatter section of track beside a fence. I was edging closer towards the lighthouse. Bruce was there again giving me great encouragement and telling me how strongly I was continuing to run. I was again checked in as I ran into the competitors’ area, where I grabbed a Coke and ran on towards the lookout along the track beside the farm fence line. After the lookout, where I asked a fellow if he’d like to trade his bike for a pair of running shoes, it was down the sealed road before turning into a farm driveway and then across paddocks. I stopped to talk with a young fellow and his mother who were 25k walkers. I told them about the hang gliders that I saw from this spot two years ago. I walked with them for a while before continuing on, and by now I had caught up with Georgina Jackson so we ran together through driveways, passed farm sheds and the smouldering remains of a fire before reaching the road. Bruce was there again to provide some pacing as we headed down to the river to follow the river trail to the Inglis River Bridge. Just shy of the 44k mark I was attempting to pass three fellow 50k runners, who were now walking, when my troublesome right foot caught a stone. I lurched forward, rolling as I fell so that I landed more on my shoulder as I rolled onto my back. Though I had wonderful offers of help to get up I was able to manage by myself, even though a bit of a cramp began to develop in my left hamstring. As I again ran on, I jokingly told Georgina that my wife wouldn’t be happy with me for falling again. But it wasn’t much further along when cramps again developed just as I was about to pass Lee Potvin, a 25k walker. I had to stop and take a gel, thus letting Georgina go on. I then walked with Lee for some distance before heading off, crossing the bridge with the end of my run not too far off. It wasn’t long before Claire Zabel, with whom I had run some time earlier, passed me running very strongly. I couldn’t keep up with her so watched her disappear into the distance. I struggled on, my form deteriorating as my shoulders became more hunched; my left knee and hip continuing to cause me discomfort as they had for most of the run. And then I came to Austin Street to be greeted by Val, Bruce and Sue. To my great surprise and delight there was John Castledine cheering me on—but more than that he ran me all the way to the oval to keep me company. Jason Kuys was driving past and stopped to encourage me as well. I endeavoured to pick up my pace, especially when I entered the oval and ran the final metres around the cones. And then it was over—but I wasn’t quite with it and was guided to the medical tent where I rested and had my elbow cleaned by Lucas from ESS. John Tickell, with whom I had spent a little bit of time in the early stages, popped in to see me and tell me that he had had to pull out at the top of Heart Break Hill as he knew that he couldn’t keep going. For the first time in any of my long runs I just didn’t have anything left in me to go back out and run people home. While I missed doing that, I knew that it would be foolish to try and do so.

The good news from this run was that I finished in an official time of 8:45:45 thus taking over 1 hour 45 minutes off my previous time, and I finished in position 89 out of the 127 who started and 120 who finished and I was first in the 60+ age group, beating home many younger runners.

Looking back over the run, I would say that the first half from Rocky Cape to Boat Harbour was far more technically difficult with the terrain we had to cross but that the second half from Boat Harbour to Wynyard was more challenging because of the hillier nature of that section. During the run I spent time contemplating future events. Because I knew that I was capable of handling this distance and elevation I wondered whether I should upgrade from the half marathon to the marathon for Cockle Creek in June and totally forget about the Tassie Trail Fest marathon in July because of the 4,000 metres of elevation. I should be able to handle Scottsdale Rail Trail 54k in September and maybe even Bruny Island again. But I will have to think about these events a bit more and I definitely will get some new trail shoes and go back to the Salomon brand. I like my Brooks for road running but I don’t think their trail shoes are as good as the Salomon.

We headed for a coffee shop on the way home as that was what I had begun to crave following so much sweetness during the run. Then it was back to the van for a quick shower and some computer work before driving back to the oval to watch others finishing and see the presentations.

Val said the most surprising and amazing thing to me later on—that I would be able to do the 75k run, especially in the year of my 75^th birthday, which will be in 2023. So, then, do I wait until then or attempt it next year? Decisions, decisions, decisions!