Chapter 55 : I want to finish the Canberra marathon...

I want to proudly cross the finish line of a marathon.  I don’t want to stagger and stumble across the finish line. I don’t want to see the finish line as blessed relief. I do expect to be aware of every aching muscle in my legs.  I want people to congratulate me and ask me how I feel.

What is a marathon?

The marathon is a long-distance running race with an official distance of 42.195 kilometers (26.219 miles, or 26 miles 385 yards), usually run as a road  race.

The modern Olympics began in 1896. The organizers were looking for an event that recalled ancient Greece. They decided on a race from the town of Marathon to Athens. The race was to commemorate a local Greek fable. The fable was that in 490 BC a Greek messenger soldier ran from Marathon to Athens to announce that the Persians had been defeated in a battle. When he arrived in Athens he ran into the political assembly; shouted, “We have won”; collapsed and died.  The initial race commemorated the fable and says nothing about the fable being historically accurate. 

Why such an odd distance?

In 1896 the first modern marathon was won by a Greek water carrier. The distance from Marathon to Athens, going the chosen way, was about 40 kilometers. The length of the first few Olympic marathons varied. In 1908 the Olympic Games were held in London. The organizers decided on a marathon course from Windsor Castle to the stadium in White City followed by a lap of the stadium.  The course that was used was 26 miles and 385 yards and after 1908 this became the standard length of any marathon race.  Johnny Hayes from USA won the 1908 Olympic marathon.  His victory popularized the event and led to cities hosting Marathons.  

There was an aura, a mystic associated with running a marathon. The word marathon entered our language.  With phrases such as “like running a marathon”, “the final steps of a marathon”, “a marathon effort”.  A marathon tends to symbolize something that is difficult to achieve; something that requires a long sustained effort; perseverance and determination and the dogged ability to keep going.  Not intelligence or luck or skill or creativity.

What does a marathon mean to me? 

To me a marathon means self-knowledge. Self-awareness. To me it means something that is not for everyone. Definitely for a certain type of person. Certain type of physic. Certain type of personality.

In Australia we are blessed.  We often have the right environment for a marathon.  We often have the right places to train. And multiple well run and organized marathons are available everywhere. In this country we are lucky runners.

I need a reason for attempting this marathon. I need motivation. Going back 30 years, my motivation for running my first marathon arose from fun running. I would enter a race of a certain distance, finish and then think that I could run further. “I can go further. How much further? What is my limit?” My motivation was to find out what I was capable of doing.  I would not think of time. I would only think of finishing. 

I would listen to other runners. They would talk about marathons. I would listen to a guy talk about his marathon and I would think, “If he can do that then so can I.” Other runners only reinforced my motivation. If he can do that then what can I do?

Finishing marathons gave me confidence. It gave me confidence to do other things. There was a slight change in the way people treated you. I thougt some were impressed to a slight extent. Maybe some were unimpressed. Nowadays my goal is the same. My goal is to finish. But my motivation is different. My motivation is to prove to myself that I am not old and ill. To prove to myself that I am fit and healthy. It’s all about me. I don’t care what other people think.

My previous experience tells me finishing a marathon will not occur serendipitously. I will need a training plan in order to finish a marathon.

For me every training run should be about enjoyment

I don’t want my training to feel like a chore. I want to look forward to my training runs.  Every run should be an aim in itself. Not done because it leads somewhere else.  My training runs may begin because the body is telling me to run. I may become addicted. I may run because of my hormone levels; maybe for relaxation or for social reasons. I don’t care. Maybe a form of mindfulness or meditation. Once again I don’t care. 

I want my training to involve slow, steady and gradual increases. From my view the initial increase should be of distance. I will increase my weekly distance until I reach what I think is the right distance. I will then increase the speed or intensity of my running. For my body to adapt it takes time.  I am expecting that training will result in changes in my muscles, nervous system, blood vessels and hormones.  It takes time for blood vessels to grow; for muscle cells to change; for hormones to become more efficient. Any of the changes I am expecting will take months. I am also expecting changes in my brain. I am expecting to learn.

I am expecting my body will adapt, grow and change after hard training. My body will only grow new cells, put down new systems when resting. Hard training must be followed by hard rest and recovery. Without the recovery from training my body will not adapt. Adequate recovery will also help me avoid injury and illness.
Every training run has to be either pushing the body, resting the body or maintaining the body.

A lot of experts advise against over training. The other problem is under training. My aim is to arrive at the start line at my absolute peak.  Everybody needs different training and recovery. Every body’s life is different.  Amount of incidental exercise outside of training varies. Amount and quality of rest varies. And every year for every marathon my training has varied.  This is what I love. I have constantly monitored myself and adjusted my training.  I have never taken pleasure out of correctly following someone else’s plan. I take pleasure out of adjusting and changing my training plans and keeping within my guidelines.

Under training will mean body adapts insufficiently. Overtraining means illness or injury or mentally tired. My aim is to find the right balance between over and under training.

Every training run requires self-assessment. Do I have a cold or flu or a systemic illness? Do I have any local problems such as tenderness, swelling or pain on dysfunctional movement? The weather, social engagements, work commitments, shoes and training gear all influence my training. My marathon training is not an island separate from my life.

My training involves a period of intense quality training. 

Internet experts suggest 8, 10 or 12 weeks of quality training. My previous experience tells me I need ten weeks of quality running which is consistent with the experts.

I cannot suddenly start quality running from zero.  I need a period of poor quality running prior to the period of quality running.  The amount and quality of physical exercise in the lead up period will depend on my lifestyle.  My lifestyle will vary year to year and within the one year.

The aim of training is to build up the body or adapt the body so that it can run from 30 to 42 kays. All of my training is aimed at running the last ten kays.

How many kays a week?

My previous experience:  60 kays a week resulted in better performance than 47 kays a week. 60 kays a week is my target at the moment. I can do this easily without any adverse effects on my life style and it seems to be enough to give me the necessary endurance.

What do the experts suggest?  They all suggest something different which is good. I love this diversity of opinions.

What type of training?

My previous experience says that the average speed of training had little effect on race time. My experience says my average speed in training went up from 6.78 to 7.52 min/kay. My final race time decreased. Other factors were involved.

A speed session or a time trial once a week had little effect. It does give me an indication of general fitness and keeps training interesting.

Experience and all the experts and most runners tell me one long slow distance run a week is crucial. Nothing but empirical evidence. I haven’t seen much scientific evidence or studies which proves long runs are an essential part of training. I have found that the long runs allow me to adapt psychologically. I know every time I do a long run it becomes easier emotionally.

The experts always recommend endurance first and speed second.  I attempt to build up endurance by running long mileages per week. I record my weekly mileage.  I don’t care how it is achieved.  I find my race time is related to my weekly total. Once I can do my targeted weekly mileage easily then I try and introduce speed sessions. I have found that this basic idea works for me. Speed comes second and is built on top of the endurance foundation.  What speed sessions? I try a variety. Depends on my mood or the weather or what others are doing or the stars.

Taper?

Conventional wisdom is that after a period of quality running you need a taper.  The aim of a taper is to arrive at the start line in peak condition.  The taper is a period of decreased running.  The taper should allow my body to rested and recover from all the hard training while maintaining all the adaptations from training. 

My recent experience is: 

In 2014  2 week taper

Week I ¾ of normal mileage

Week 2 ½ of normal mileage

In 2015 4 week taper

Week 1, 2, 3 ¾ of weekly mileage

Week 4 ¼ of weekly mileage

Race in 2015 was 15 minutes faster. Taper in 2015 was associated with better result.  My conclusion is that there are more important variables than the taper.

But the taper is still important and I treat it seriously. I have a few guidelines which I attempt to follow:

Training changes the physiology of my body. Training alters red blood cell numbers, the oxygen carrying molecule haemoglobin, blood capillary density in muscles and muscles cell mitochondria and oxygen carrying myoglobin. These changes last for around 8 weeks.  These changes will outlive most tapers.

Speed decreases quicker than endurance.  I maintain some sprints up to the day before. The closer the race the less the sprints.

Lethargy and sluggishness can occur during a taper. Which I treat by doing some sprints.

The taper should eliminate any muscle damage or muscle tenderness.

Taper is also a time to prepare mentally. Rest and meditate on the race. Calm my mind.

Taper needs to be very flexible. I will monitor myself constantly and try and react appropriately.   

Food and drink and race tactics

Only a small amount of carbohydrate (about 600 gm) is stored in muscles as glycogen. This is enough to get the average person between 20 and 30 kays or about ninety minutes. Not enough to finish a marathon.

After all the glycogen in the muscles has been used the extra energy either comes from carbohydrates ingested during the race or fat stores. 

Energy gels are largely carbohydrate based. These are the conventional method of getting energy during exercise. Some people train with gels.

Some experts are recommending a low carbohydrate diet so that the body adapts and uses more fat and less carbohydrate as an energy source. They are recommending this diet as a permanent life style change.  This is one of the debates in our society. Should energy come from fat or carbohydrates?

My habit is to train without carbohydrates. The body shifts to fat as a fuel and becomes more efficient. On race day I will use a carbohydrate gel.

I have seen this regime called the train low, race high regime. Not my idea. It gives me confidence knowing it is an established regime with a name and proponents who have won Olympic medals.

·         CONTACT US

23 February, 2017

.

Chapter 54 : Driver Licence To Remain Suspended

Chapter 53 : my first fun run; my last fun run and some in between

"The Mercury" newspaper published an article I wrote about a fun run. On the 21.2.86.  The original article is reprinted below. The newspaper edited the article and added a few photos.  

My first fun run coincided with the very beginning of the running boom. The running boom was triggered by James Fixx. James Fixx’s story began in 1967. He was 97 kgs and smoked two packs of cigarettes a day. Ten years later he was 27 kg lighter and smoke free. He attributed his changed lifestyle to running.  James Fixx wrote a book called “The Complete Book of Running”. In 1977 it became a best seller and sold more than one million copies.  The book discussed the physical and psychological benefits of running.  The running boom began. James Fixx was a media star. Virtually everybody in that first fun run I entered knew of or had read James Fixx.  

James Fixx had a heart attack and died in 1984 at the age of 52. His heart attack was attributed to a genetic predisposition for heart problems and his previous lifestyle. The running boom continued unabated.  It was around the time of James Fixx the phrase fun run was first used to describe an organized run for multiple disparate people.  Fun runs began, originally in USA, and the idea quickly spread around the world.  Other sports should be jealous of fun runs. They introduce non-athletes to running. Some of these fun run participants will go on to enter competitive athletics. Other sports don’t have a way of getting non-participants to participate in their sport. Most fun runs are open to all who want enter. There is no restriction. And the rules are simple. Everybody can easily enter and easily follow the rules.

My first fun run was about 1978 when I was at university in Melbourne and was around Albert Park Lake. The place appropriated today by F1 cars. My last fun run was Cross the Bridge in Hobart 2017. Almost 40 years of fun runs.

Almost 40 years of standing in a crowd of people waiting to start running.  Some are stretching. Some are jogging. Some are standing on one leg and stitching the other leg. Some are talking or greeting friends. We are standing outside the massive stadium that houses cricket and football. There is no uniform. Nobody is dressed identically. There are some similar shirts or tops. Advertising or promoting something; commemorating some past event.  Some of the shirts tell people what team they are in. Very egalitarian. Everybody is treated the same. And very global. Anywhere in the world the procedure would be similar and easily understood. Anybody anywhere in the world could run in any fun run occurring anywhere else in the world. It is a global event not an event specific to Hobart. People all around the world run in similar ways. Everybody runs uniquely. 

What changes have occurred in the last 40 years?  James Fixx said that regular running would increase life expectancy. Ignoring the potential physical benefits has it been worth it? Has it been fun? Has it been a good way to spend my ideal moments?  Have I benefitted? How have the changes in society of the last 40 years mirrored the changes in the fun runs? 

Back in 1978 the fun run was promoted and advertised in the local paper. My recollections are: you turned up on the day; you paid your entry fee at a trestle table; you were given a number to fix to your shirt; the gun went off; everybody followed the guy in front; you ran; you finished running; they gave you a certificate with your time written on it; you went home.

Today on-line entering of races exists. The internet also makes results and photos available on-line. It is possible to have instantaneous on-line recording of results. I remember the Gold Coast Marathon. A few years ago when running the race I wore an electronic timing device. At the half way point I crossed over a bump in the road which recorded my time. It was possible to sit in Hobart and see a live recording of my time at the half way point of the race.  The race hadn’t even finished. At the finish my time was once again recorded and uploaded. Nobody rang to ask me how I’d gone. They already knew. The information was available instantaneously to the whole world.

In fact the system works so dramatically well I tend to get upset with slight glitches or the slightest slowness.  With entries and results and race calendars the change has been dramatic. With this change caused by the internet my expectations have gone up. I now expect to be able to enter any race any time I like and to view any results instantaneously. I get upset at the slightest gremlin. I would tend to think that the internet has resulted in positive changes to fun runs and that it would be impossible to separate fun runs from the society hosting them.

The other change to entries nowadays is the waive you have to sign. This is a change in society which has resulted in a change in fun runs. Today expect to sign a form saying whatever happens you will not sue anybody. Years ago, whatever happened, nobody sued anybody. Nowadays everybody signs a form and then nobody sues anybody. Once again fun runs and society have changed together.

I s search the crowd of runners for someone I know and somewhere to stand. I head towards the back for security. The race starts and I don’t. I walk and eventually cross the line and start dodging other people and jogging. I spend my time working out where to run. Should I go around them or not. If I follow this person they may drag me. The other runners slow me down and speed me up. They slow me as I avoid them. They carry me along in their slipstream.  I am stunned by the number of people. And I know virtually none of them. Where have they all come from? There are crowds and crowds of people I would like to know. Most of them must live in Hobart and yet I have never seen them before. They have appeared and they are running. With me. We are all in this together. All heading in the same direction.

The fun runs. The basic idea hasn’t changed. You start together, run the same course and people are defined by the time it takes them to run the course. Prizes to the fastest. My memory is that all the early races had watering tables. Trestle tables with plastic cups. Much like today’s system.  Right down to people chucking their used cups on the road. The road still gets littered. Nothing has changed. Today more runners are fussy about what they drink. Their particular drink. There has been an increase in knowledge has meant more people have an opinion on what should be drunk and eaten. 

Today every fun run seems to be raising money for a particular charity. The charity and the fun run are promoted simultaneously. Both sides seem to benefit from this symbiotic relationship.  Any fun run appreciates support. And any charity needs additional promotion. A charities, business or government department will provide some sort of support. To aid with marketing and managing the event. A lot of fun runs need to run somewhere exciting.  Or somewhere unusual. They need a gimmick. Like the bridge. You can run a cross the bridge any time but to have a lane of the road closed to all except runners is exciting.  To run across the bridge with other people is exhilarating. It’s special.

More people run as a member of a team now compared to 1978.  People seem to like running as part of a team. With their workmates. Once again I see both groups benefitting. The fun run gets more entrants. The work place gets improved team spirit at work. The staff should work together better. Might even make them fitter and take less sick leave. The average fun run is within the limits of the average healthy adult.

Since 1978 the type of person running in fun runs has changed. In 1978 my memory is of predominately young males. Like me. Now I see a lot more females running.  Often more females than males.  Fifty: fifty would be ideal. It would accurately reflect our society.   The age of the entrants has also changed. The average runner now is older. In 1978 it was rare to see an old man. It was worthy of a comment. Not now. Once again the more the age of the entrants accurately reflects society the better. A certain age doesn’t consign you to certain things or areas. Age should not limit or restrict people. People of all ages should mix with people of all ages and then all people will benefit.

If you compared the time of the average runner 40 years ago with the time of the average runner today I feel that today the average runner is slower. The other area fun runs have to reflect society is in disabled people competing. The number of disabled people competing should accurately the society we belong to. The disabled people should compete with the able bodied. There should not be a line in the sand which separates the disabled form the able bodied. Everybody should be in together.  Whatever the disability. The physical disability is the obvious one. Intellectual or emotional disabilities are more difficult to address. How do we encourage participation from someone suffering a mental illness? That’s the new frontier.

Clothes have changed. More special running clothes. More clothes specific for a purpose. More materials which are designed for sweating bodies. Less people throw on the shorts they spend all day Saturday in. Shoes have improved. Which is good not only sartorially but helps prevent injuries. More females wearing make-up. So I have been told. This is something I don’t notice.

The finish teases us and then we run past it, up the road and back towards it. At the finish is a clock which gives the race time and a bump in the road.  My partner tells me there is a table with bananas. I head towards it.  I would love a banana. Another improvement over the years is multiple events starting or finishing around the same time. It means people of different abilities and ages can participate together.  It results in more people running for fun.

Over the years every fun run I have entered I have never come first or last. Is that glass half full or empty? Have I beaten the guy who came last or been beaten by the winner. Neither. It is a personal challenge. A personal test. An activity that brings enjoyment.  It does more than that. It has helped increase my self-awareness. It has helped keep me fit for work. It has help me make friends. It has improved my social life. It has improved me emotional. It is 40 years of positives.

The prize giving. There are prizes for different ages and sex.  Some races have prizes for certain disabilities such as wheelchair athletes.  I don’t even consider getting a prize. If there was a prize for my particular age, sex and disability I would win. I would be the only one entered in my special category. I look around and most people are the same. Prizes were given for their particular category they would win.  Which means everybody wins. 

Chapter 52 : The bike track

Reprinted from The Mercury:

Good hearts make pulsating artery of our city even better

ALAN CARLTON, Mercury

February 13, 2017 

I START my jog without thinking. And then I suddenly have to think.

A car is approaching. If it turns I will have to wait for it. If it goes straight I can now safely cross the road. The car turns without indicating. Luckily I thought he might do that. I wait for the car and the car continues on its way. We both continue our journeys.

I approach the bike track. I glance up and down the track before entering. I’m safe to enter. I enter and start my run along the bike track. I can see a cyclist hunched forward, head down, bottom up, pumping his feet and approaching me. He seems safe. A sudden sound behind me and suddenly a bike veers in front of me. Bit close. Just missed me. I didn’t hear a thing and now the bike has overtaken me. The bike prepares the way for me. I follow him as the cyclist I was watching sweeps past me on my right.

Cyclists approach me from ahead and sneak up from behind. Legs are pumping furiously and bikes glide effortlessly. Wearing tight closely fitting shirts, racing shorts, work pants with bicycle clips, backpacks, fluoro vests, helmets with hats peeking out underneath. I try to read each shirt before it flashes past. Sometimes I manage both the front and back.

Approaching me are two cyclists. Talking continuously and riding abreast towards me. I veer towards the left of my side of the bike lane as these two approach. They are overflowing their lane but they are more in their lane than my lane. They are very happy and I smile as the two of them pass me. What could be nicer than a bike ride with a friend?

Well I suppose talking to a friend on a mobile phone as you ride. This is my next encounter. A lady riding and talking loudly on her phone. I wonder if the person on the other end knows where their call is going. I wonder if the cyclist is aware of anything around her. Her phone may connect her to her friend but it repulses everybody around her. I avoid her and anywhere in her vicinity.

I pass some proud parents. Their kids lead the way as they meander their way along the track. Another pleasure to see. They are not a danger to me but their lack of speed contrasts dramatically with the speed of some of the bikes passing me. I can see the ingredients for an accident.

I can hear the next bike before I see it. It is a motorised bike. It doesn’t slow or observe the view. It motors remorselessly up the track. Unlike most of the cyclists it is not riding for health or the environment or with its friends.

A man is wearing in-line skates. His feet make grand sweeping gestures across the track. Silently. I pass a man in a hurry to zip his fly up. He can’t hide the puddle on the track.

Another runner says, “Hello”. He must be running faster than me. He has caught up to me. Now I need to speed up and chat or let him overtake me. I speed up slightly. We talk about the coming running races around Hobart, the weather and our kids. I enjoy the talk and a cyclist says something as he goes past. I don’t know what he said but I realise we have been wandering. It is possible a part of me ventured onto the other side. I was distracted.

I approach a road crossing the bike track. There is a barrier which blocks half the track. I see a cyclist approaching with speed. I get out of his way, stand still and wait for, “Thank you”. Instead he brushes past me as close as possible and I receive a glare which says, “Get off my track.”

His attitude seems to be. I will treat you, you annoying nuisance, the same way I have been treated by cars. I stand and look around. Shadows from the gum trees shimmer on the track. Above me birds flock in the gum trees. The river meanders slowly in the distance. No dolphins are visible at the moment. A sailing boat veers near to shore. A man hopefully throws a fishing line from the shore. I glance up the track at the rapidly disappearing cyclist and then recommence my run.

A powerful swarm of cyclists approaches and threatens to overwhelm me. The bike track is busy today. Full of happy people using it. I think I will head towards the hockey fields.

Looks good. I run around the outside. The grass is soft and sponge like. I am approaching a dog and a dog owner. The dog approaches me followed by the owner yelling, “He’s never done that before.” Well that is very reassuring. The dog doesn’t do that every time he is taken for a walk. Is that supposed to please me? Is that something I should rejoice in? As I rub my leg and resume my run I comfort myself. I am lucky. He’s never done that before. I have just met a well behaved dog acting out of character. I head under the Brooker Highway to some neighbouring fields. One guy is practising hitting golf balls. And while intently watching the flying golf balls I head to the next field.

On the next field I see a sign which says, “No golf. No dogs”. A few more laps and then I head up the footpaths and between the houses.

One guy is blocking the footpath with his gates. He has done this so he can take his car out for a drive. Ah well. I run around. When they return and park their car in their driveway they will move the gates off the footpath.

I return from my run and hop into our car. My partner and I are on a small journey that heads back past where I was. As we cross the bike track I spot a cyclist. The cyclist gives the car a hand signal for something we have done. I am distracted from “our indiscretion” by the cyclist. It is the same guy who passed me on the bike track. He rode dangerously close to me. He doesn’t recognise or remember me.

I peer at the long grass, wire fence, the disused railway track and the path with white line up the middle. It cheers me up. It is a living, pumping, pulsating artery from the heart of Hobart through the northern suburbs.

The bike track attracts rules and regulations which are obeyed to some extent by some people. Let’s ignore them and celebrate Hobart being alive.

The rules aren’t winning. It is the heart that wins. A good heart wins. A heart full of empathy, respect and love wins. So how do you get the people on the bike track to show love, respect and empathy for the other people on the bike track? How do you get them to think of the other uses that they meet?

I don’t know. People vary. People who respect others will do it anywhere. And people will change. One day a person will happily greet you on the track, the next day resent your presence.

The more people think of others the happier and more joyous their life will be. Being good to others will make people happy. I know people will read this and say I should practice what I preach.

The reality is people will not suddenly do what I write about. Some guys will solemnly obey one rule and ignore the next. Who cares? What matters is if they are interfering with other people or creating work for other people. Love and respect. Empathy and community feeling. A feeling of belonging to the community. A feeling that you are will be listened to. These are the things that matter.

I like a cafe that is busy, that is full of satisfied punters. To me that means the cafe is serving good food and makes good coffee. That is the place I will head for. But when I go to the cafe I want the place empty. Then I can more easily get what I want. I want a busy cafe which is empty.

The bike track is the same. I love to see it busy and full of people. That reinforces in me that it is an important part of our community. But when I go on it I prefer it to be devoid of crowds. Very sparsely populated. It makes my life easier.

Alan Carlton is a former Hobart dentist. He retired in October 2015. He has lived in New Town since before 1993. In 1993 Paul Keating promised Hobart a bike track if re-elected. He delivered on that promise.

Chapter 51 : Tasmanian Masters Athletics (Part two)

I wait for the 400m by watching the 3000 m. The runners are very fast, fit and in control. No drama. I ask a few more questions and the answers are. Each runner is given a lane. You start behind the line in your lane. You stick to your own lane. At the start the runners will not be next to each other. They are what you call staggered.

I hang around and finally get the nod. And joy of joy I finish up with the inside lane at the back and will not be passed.

We crouch for the start and I start running when the others start running. They seem very quick. I push my arms. I breathe deeply. I try and speed my legs up. No I can increase the length of each stride. That’s better. I feel like I am in a rhythm. I must keep this rhythm. My feet feel numb. In fact they are not my feet. They belong to someone else.  They feel like artificial clods of feet slapping the track. I can still run. I must keep this rhythm. The rhythm feels good. They are going away from me. I must keep in touch. I round the final curve into the straight. The others are finishing. I am now running on my own. I didn’t choose to be on my own. Breathe deeply. My feet feel numb. Normally I run on the bike track and my feet behave themselves. Why did they choose now to play up? I pump my arms. There is a crowd of people at the finish line. None are interested in me. I finally stop and breathe deeply. One of the runners shacks my hand. Fantastic.  Other runners do the same. It was worth it just for the handshakes.

What is my time? Is it good or bad?  Who knows? How does it compare to other people of my age. I could look at the state records. That would give me some sort of idea. It is the only thing I can compare myself to. I could compare myself to people who don’t run but that’s not possible.

I lost the race. It was easier this afternoon. I weeded an area of my garden. I won. The weeds lost. And this morning at a cafe. I won there as well. In the café I ordered a flat white. I achieved my goal.  It came and I drank it.  Why am I pushing myself now? I volunteered to run and come last.  It was my choice.

I haven’t found my event. Part of me dreams of being discovered. Of suddenly trying an event and breaking records or winning medals. Well that is not going to happen.  If I hadn’t come here today I would have been able to keep on dreaming. Keep on thinking that I was about to be discovered.  I now know this is not going to happen.

Why did I run? Where does the pleasure come from? It doesn’t come from being the best or winning or beating other people. It must come from the feeling you get when you run. The enjoyment of physical movement. The wind in your hair.

I also ran to increase my self-knowledge. I won there. I learnt something about myself.  And there is more I can learn. As I learn things about myself my time should come down. This is not always pleasurable. Sometimes you learn something painfully.

And then there is the fellowship. Enjoying the company of other people who are basically the same. People you have something in common with.  And the other reason for doing this is you have to do something. I could stay at home, watch TV, and get drunk. No I think I would rather be here.

In the 400m all of the people were younger than me. And faster than me. Perhaps I can get better. Well I can. I know that. If I flounder I can revert to my staple event. The long slow distance. Perhaps at the end of my odyssey I will find out that I am best suited to what I was doing all along.

For the people racing ahead of me I am not giving up. I can’t explain why. I am not a great hidden talent. I know I am lucky to be able to run on such a fantastic track in such a great organization. I know I am lucky that I can run. Not everybody can. I am lucky that I live a short distance away from a quality running track.  Not everybody does. And I am lucky that TMA exists. I don’t know why? All I know is what I see. I see good people, taking the time to stand around and record my time. Recording our harmless fun.

And the people here. They are relaxed, self-confident, polite, purposeful and active. They are not boastful, flamboyant, arrogant, deceitful or unhappy.  When running they are self-possessed but they are not selfish people. They are honestly pursuing self-improvement.

And as for the future? What will happen? There are three options.

My times will improve.

My times will remain in the same area.

I will give up and stop.

I learnt one thing. They don’t like it when I complained about my feet. They were happy when I tried my best. When I started to talk about my numb feet they turned away. Not interested in complaints.

Well I have to see what I can get out of it. I suppose I will get out what I put in. 

Chapter 50 : Tasmanian Masters Athletics (Part one)

It’s Wednesday.  I check my computer. I will go to the Tasmanian Masters meet. I’ve already announced my intentions to myself. I’ve made a commitment to myself.

Time to look at the program. I chose 100 m and 400 m. I have never done neither of these events ever. Well maybe at school 40/50 years ago. I don’t think that counts. Easier if I  assume that I have never done these events.

I walk across the overpass to the domain. Above a stream of traffic flowing beneath me.

I walk through the trees and birds and weather towards the room that contains the forms. This room is reassuring. Some people fill in forms and go. Others linger and talk.  I pay my money and search the scattered forms. Not for this one.  Ah here is the form I need. What names are down on the form? Don’t know the names. What ages are they? What sex are they? I add my name at the bottom of the list and check the start time. And peer out the window.  I see people randomly jogging the oval. Bags lying disorganized.

The 100m is my first event. The course is sort of obvious. I know where the finish line is. I jog to the start. I jog up and down the track. I stretch. Other people seem to know what they are doing. I copy them. Some people are holding the things you stand in when you start. I ask. They are called blocks. Of course. That was obvious. Another question from me.  Which lane do I take? The answer is, “Take any lane. The one that suits you.”

Other athletes are stretching. All different. They all seem focused. Preoccupied. Purposeful. Self-centered and thinking of their coming run without being selfish. They are all very polite and very considerate. Not over concerned with me which I take as a good sign. What I am seeing is the tip of the icebergs. I see people stretching, jogging, bending and preparing to run. What I don’t see is the back story. Behind everybody there is a great story. A story about why they are here.  What they are trying to achieve.  What time they are aiming for. And why. What they have had to overcome to get here. What has helped them? What motivates them?  What is the story of their life? None of this is visible.

Most are pre-occupied. Busy not stressed. Not tense. Just doing their warm ups.  All shapes and sizes. All ages. When we run I think there will be arrange of abilities. Most are younger than me. I am one of the oldest and one of the most inexperienced. I can see younger and more experienced runners.

I feel lucky. Lucky I have access to such facilities. The running surface is just about perfect. I can’t imagine anybody complaining about it. Not possible. The weather maybe. We are on the side of a small hill; a lump; a kopje. It is very exposed. Any wind or shower is attracted. We can see them coming. Showers come from the mountain or the north or south. Whenever I see dark clouds I try and look at the direction the clouds are moving.

It is a great ambiance.  Trees surround the oval, track, and stadium. I was here last week and there were ducks paddling across the track. And magpies foraging in the grass. I search for my feathered friends. I can’t see them today. Ah well.

My heat and I take a lane which contains blocks. I had better use them. They can’t harm me. I keep on jiggling my legs and stretching my legs and jumping up and down. Seems easy. All I have to do is run down this track. Can’t get lost. My legs feel good and loose. Not tight or tense or sore. I have no idea what time I will run.  I am about to run a PB for 100m. Nothing could possibly go wrong.

I place my feet in the blocks. Is that right. I don’t know. I move around in the blocks. I think that is good. I hear a gun go off and look up and see everybody running away from me. I watch them run and a voice inside my head says, “Start to run”. I start running. Is there any way I can catch anybody. I must not let them get further ahead. I try and keep in touch. Must keep this distance. I stare at the backs of people moving up the track. I must catch up with these backs. I can’t. I must pump my arms. I must move my legs faster. I must take bigger strides.

I must not let them get further ahead. I think they are. My feet feel numb. Where did that come from? The numbness was nowhere and now it has suddenly appeared. My feet feel like artificial clumps.  I am going forward. They must be working. What do they look like? Don’t look at them. Please keep on running. I reach the end. And stop. Now I need to know if my time was good or bad. I came last. I know that but I need to know my time. Why? Because maybe I can do better next time. I wander towards several people holding clipboards. I look for my time. What was it? I am told. And that’s it. I now have a time. I now have something. I have now something by which I can be defined.  At the age of 60 I have just run my fastest ever time for 100 m.   

The other runners are peering at watches and clipboards. Nobody is visible excited or disappointed. Most people nod or search for their time or shake hands. No joy or disappointment at beating or losing to another runner.

Chapter 49 : “Don't give up your day job.”

Reprinted exactly as printed in "The Mercury" newspaper

According to a recent article in this paper, “Talking Point: Retirement blows Sunday clouds away”, work is evil or bad. It has to be endured until you retire and then suddenly you have choices about you do. When retired you can choose to what do. And you only do what you enjoy. Retirement contrasts with your working life when you always have to do what you don’t want to do.

It is not the way I have lived my life. My life as a working and retired person. I worked for forty years and about a year ago I suddenly and abruptly entered retirement land.

I think of work as a stage I was going through. My life began with a stage of pre-school life followed by a stage when I was a student. Both of these stages came and went. I never looked back on either stage as being perfect and as something I long to return to forever. When at Uni I never dreamed wistfully of my years at primary school and wished I could return. I thought one stage had ended and had been replaced by another. I took the same attitudes, friends and beliefs from one stage to the next. I was the same person doing different things. Different challenges, goals and activities.

My working life. What can one say? I never hated, dreaded or despised it. I never sat around dreaming of retirement. I just tried to do my best. I always tried to learn. To know my subject better. I always tied to relate better to the people I encountered. To get to know the people better.  I tried to get pleasure from it. Or to find out why I wasn’t getting pleasure from it.

I confess I had bad days and good days. I had times when I succeeded. Times when I achieved my goals. Times when I failed. Times I was proud. Times I was embarrassed. Times I thought about changing jobs. Times I loved my job. I ran the full gamut of experiences. In fact I could write a book about my life working. You couldn’t separate my work from me. It was my life. My life would not have existed without work. I can’t imagine my life without working.

About a year ago I suddenly retired. It was unplanned and unprepared for. It was a different stage I had entered. It was not days of continuous bliss. It was not a time of sadness either.  It was a different stage I had entered.  A lot of the things I did were the same. I was the same person. I believed and behaved the same. I reacted with people I met the same. I continued my interest in gardening, sport, writing and my family. In fact playing tennis some evenings, people have been surprised I am retired. They have given me   a slightly strange disbelieving look. Which sort of proves I am the same person.

Since retirement I have experienced various emotions. They have been the full range of emotions and strangely they have been exactly the same emotions I experienced when working. Though now, if I disappointed, it is more likely to be with the choices on the menu in the cafe.

I have not celebrated my retirement. I have never spent time wishing I was back where I used to be. I have just accepted everything I have been dealt and got on with it. 

When you are retired one thing that happens is you don’t get days off. You don’t look forward to the holidays or the weekends. All days are of the same importance. There are no special days to look forward to. And you are not allowed bad days[i]. You are not allowed a day when everything goes wrong. A day when you can rale about life, the traffic, the crowds, the receptionist, the checkout chicks and telephone marketers.  If you are having a bad day there is no one to criticise. Nobody to blame. You can’t go home and throw darts at a picture of your boss. You can’t get on Facebook and rent your spleen about management and their stupid decisions.

Many people don’t retire. Artists, musicians, writers, poets and people who have an occupation which is more than just a job, never retire. Rupert Murdoch is working many years past the age at which he could financially retire.  This is great. I love a businessman who enjoys his job so much he continues. This is the way I would prefer everybody to be aiming. Aim for an occupation where you don’t want to retire. Aim for a career that doesn’t bind you or restrict you. A career where retirement is not thought about. This is what you should aim for.

And back to the important issue. Can you do what you want when you retire? Of course not. I am a social animal.   Everything I do involves other people. Everytime I do something involving other people I must consult with them. I must consider their feelings, attitudes or them. Now that I am retired I have not suddenly become an island that exists without needing or helping other people. In fact the opposite could be true.

 I know retired people who become more engaged more connected. One way is via doing voluntary work.

A large number of retired people do volunteer work. Do voluntary work and you can regain a few of the things you lose when you retire. You belong to an organization that has a goal. You have a reason for living. You are responsible for something.  You are included in notices, messages, emails, the tea room and Christmas parties.  It will be noticed if you don’t turn up.  You have somebody to talk to about good days and bad days. 

The idea that adult life consists of two completely separate and distinct halves is a dangerous myth. The attitude that work is to be endured until you retire is very dangerous. The attitude that retirement is a reward and consists of unbridled bliss is very dangerous. For both working people and retired people.

For working people the attitude is that work is to be endured and consists of putting up with your boss, boredom and enslavement. A period of servitude will eventually be followed by a reward.  This myth stops people from living their lives in the moment.  It is as distorting of the truth as the myth that a man in a sleigh flies the earth delivering presents. 

For the retired person the myth is that you have reached it. You are now in paradise. You are going to enjoy everyday and everything.  It is a dangerous belief. Because reality will intervene. One day you will realise that your life does not match the perfect image that you were told about. And what happens when there is a difference between reality and the myth in your head? That is the question.

Alan Carlton is a former Hobart dentist. He was retired medically in October 2015.  He know spends some of his time running, playing tennis, gardening, with his family and writing for his blogs.   

---

[i] Apart from bad hair days.

Chapter 48 : The end of perfection

In October 2015 after playing tennis I went home and went to bed.  Two weeks later I slowly woke up. Sometime when slipping between sleep and comatose I had been reclassified. I was now a patient.
As I began to wake and emerge from the unconscious land I inhabited I tried to connect to a world I vaguely remembered. As I did this I realised I was wearing a label. A label which said “patient”.  I had been classified and put in the box that said “patient”.   My family were called “carers”.  We had all entered a world we had only ever seen on TV. 

The carers had a role to play. They had to care for the patient. They had to do things for him. To look after the patient. They had to protect the patient. They were never to complain. They were always to help. They were never to ask for help.  They were always to expect stability or constant change. They were never to be faced with unexplained or random changes.

And the label above me said “patient”. That was my role. A patient is always compliant. Always sits or lies on a bed. A patient always waits patiently. He depends on everybody. He waits for everything. When he has an appointment he says thank you. He is always gracious. Always accepting. And everybody asks him about himself. And he always answers politely.

Well a year later.  How did we go?  Did I play my role well? And the others, how did they go? What did the critics say? How many stars did they give?  Did the show should finish with everybody having learnt their lesson and having a laugh together followed by the credits.

In the hospital I was surrounded by nurses and other paid carers. Lying in bed I always tended to classify them as being good or bad. To be efficient at following the rules, to know something about the medications, to remember your name; to remember how you drank tea.  I always classified them as either good or bad. Now I don’t I see the medical staff as human. They were better at some things than others. For a variety of reasons. Maybe they had seen a similar case the week before. Maybe they had gone to a lecture which helped. Maybe their child was watching TV the day before; saw an ad for a breakfast cereal; refused to eat his normal breakfast; caused her to be late for work; which upset her superior who admonished her in front of a patient.

For all the staff everyday was different. Their work varied. Their attitude and behavior varied. Everything about them varied. They did not deserve to be put in a box marked good or bad.  I could say most of them did their best or tried their best but that is over simplistic. Some days some of them, for an unexplained reason, didn’t concentrate on what was in front of them. Everybody was different and each individual person constantly changed.

Well how did I go as a patient?

The reality is I didn’t love or hate being a patient. I never thought that I had chosen it or I could chose something else. I never thought about it. There were times when I was the perfect patient. I sat and talked about signs of improvement and getting better. There were times I was compliant and grateful. Is the reverse also true? Well I suppose it has to be. There are times when I was a difficult patient. when I was going through “a stage”. Most of the time I just tried to live each day as best I could.

What I found is that both the patient and the carers were random and unpredictable in an unpredictable fashion. Sometimes they were predictable. Sometimes for a multitude of unexplained reasons they did things which were unexplained. Is it time to end perfection and embrace chaos?  No because chaos has such a bad reputation.  The word cannot be said without conjuring bad thoughts. Well what then  is the alternative.

Living in the present, being aware of your surroundings and reacting or acting sensitively. Increasing awareness helps. Not the first person to say this. You can phrase it any way you like or use any words you want or believe in any underlying philosophy or religion you want but I would think that when perfection ends it should be replaced by living in the present and increasing awareness.

Well how many stars? I would mark this show harshly because of the finish. Nobody explained what had happened and why. No clues to the future.  It was as if they were leaving the ending open for a second show. Coming soon.

Chapter 47 : the Point to Pinnacle

Several Days Before

At Tasmanian Masters Athletics I feel a bit insecure and overwhelmed.  I hear some people are talking about the Point to Pinnacle race. If I do the race then I will belong. I will be part of the local community by participating in one of the local community events.  I check out the website and it is advertised as the world’s toughest half marathon.

How much do I need to train? I normally run on the Domain. I’ll keep doing that. It’s hilly, close and pleasant. And pretty similar to the actual route.

I go to the local running shop to pick up my number.

They display splash jackets which temp me.  The forecast is for rain.  Do I need one? I buy one. It is very light and well made. The equipment available is much better than in my previous life.

The display gels.  The packaging is impressive. Do I need food during the race? Do I need glucose? Will I collapse due to lack of available glucose? I buy a couple. What harm could they do if packaged so well?

And the other thing to do is check out the route. We drive and look. It is incredible hilly. Nothing but up. I don’t think I will make all this uphill. I could run and then walk the final bit.

The Day Before

Today the weather looks good. The forecast foretells wild, wet and inclement weather for tomorrow. I believe the forecast not what I see out my window. The website warns of the course changing. That will affect what I wear. Which is what? I don’t know. I lay out my clothes. Every possibility.  

I am asked what my goal is.

My goal is to proudly run across the finish line. To run most of the way. Not to finish and talk about my muscles and joints. Not to feel faint or dizzy. Not to collapse. Not to trip or fall or stumble. To run past the ambulance.

Sunday (The Day)

I look at the bedside clock. It says 4:30.  Too early. I close my eyes. I am not sleepy.  I lie quietly for an hour. I listen to the rain.  Sounds very peaceful.

How do I feel? Good. No dizziness. No faintness. I get up and check the internet. The course is changed. Due to rain and wind we will run half way up and then down.  What does this mean? To me it means accept what is happening. I now know the course. I don’t know what clothes to wear?

How can I dress safely? I chose long pants and overpants.  And a couple of shirts underneath a splash jacket.  And a cap under the jacket. I feel safe. I will be warm. How cares where I finish. It’s not my aim to win or run a good time.  It’s not my aim to look good.  My goal is to finish safely.   No matter what.

We arrive at the start.  Nobody is dressed as me. I don’t care. I’m not defiant or embarrassed. Where is the best place to wait for the start? I aim for the very back of the group.

We depart as a group shuffling up the road through the drizzle. I thought I was in the last group but some people run past me. I settle down into a group shuffling up the road. I now think about my first landmark. The Skyline Service Station 4 kays up the road. Everything feels good. I don’t know any runners. There is little talk. The light rain continues. I adjust my hat. The water has seeped through. What does that mean?

We arrive at my first landmark.  And pass it quickly. I check my watch. Watch is working. Time is okay. How can I get this hat better fitting? It feels wet.

We plod on until runners appear on the other side of the road. They are going down as we go up. We cheer the first few; then stop looking at them. They become a blur. I concentrate on the runners around me going my way. We are in this together.

We go higher and wetter and the half way point suddenly appears. That was easy. I could go on and up. I can now speed up. Push myself as I go downhill. Drizzle has now become rain. When did that happen? The road has streams of water which I try and avoid. The chamfer near the side is also to avoid. This puddle. Should I avoid it or run through it. The same question keeps arising. 

The road bisects the bush. It’s the same road as uphill. Uphill I was plodding looking at my next step; the next corner; checking my watch. Downhill I am now trying to run fast. To dodge puddles. What is the best way around these walkers? I must try and pass as many people as possible. Including that lady wearing black leotards. She’s next.

Now down to the houses.  I am getting faster. It’s getting easier. Everybody is getting faster. The rain continues. I adjust my cap again. I try every position. The water has seeped through. I see a guy eating a glucose gel. That’s what I have forgotten.  I fiddle and find my gel. Feels good. I don’t feel sick or nauseous or light headed. I can think of nothing but which path to take?

And the finish line. It’s wet, gloomy and anti-climactic. A man drapes a medal over my neck. I look at him. He doesn’t understand how much this means to me. Twelve months ago my only physical activity was walking to the hospital toilet. I didn’t know the way and I had to rest by leaning on the other beds. And nobody gave me a medal when I finished.  And now I have run 21 kays and I feel fantastic.

But I still have the same problem. I need to go to the toilet.  Where is it?

I am now a runner. Not an invalid. I remember a few days ago. At the supermarket a man greeted me and talked about running and the race. He didn’t talk about my health. His chat cheered me and is fondly remembered.

Today, due to the course change, it may not have been the world’s toughest half marathon. But the past twelve months have been the world’s toughest and that twelve months is finished. Now I have a medal which tells everybody I have finished a really tough twelve months.