Princes Park Rerun

The wind that has torn at Melbourne these past few days has, at least for the time being, finally abated. Today has been quiet and calm. The birds endlessly call to one another, their minds on Spring hatchlings. The traffic hums pleasantly. Not one siren sounds, the MFB and Ambulance vehicles are cold and still in their depots after a busy night. Even Thor's hammer has been laid to rest, having beat out a few cracks to join in with last night's chorus.

I cannot recall the last time I had such a luxurious morning. The dawn might have called but only noonday was answered. Weeks busy with training and work and not enough sleep between seem to have finally caught up with me and so I slept long and hard as I have not done so in months. I still have a 9k run to warm my legs on this dwindling afternoon and an engagement with that old whoremongerer the 1000 Steps with my new weighted vest tomorrow. But I feel rested and unhurried in a way that I have missed.

I have finally broken my running drought, particularly the long distance one. A few short 2.5 or 3k jogs here and there (most often with my weighted pack down to the car park from the top of the 1000 Steps), 3 weeks ago now I put on my much loved and increasingly worn ASICS Kayanos and took myself on a 2 lap trundle of my old training ground, Princes Park. I spent months acquainting myself to its 3k circumference while training for Nepal last year. I ran my first half marathon distance there albeit broken a few times at the end to make use of its water fountains and to stretch my sore legs. As part of my training for Kilimanjaro, I intend on running (read: jogging) more than one of those bad boys but I also intend on doing it with more finesse and care. I was on a tight schedule last year and so those last 2 laps of the park grew increasingly uncomfortable until it did not matter whether I ran, skipped or walked back to my car, only time relieved the impressive soreness left behind.

I have become much more clever in managing the recovery of my legs also since I discovered that iced calves do not persistently ache the way that they had been when I first started stair training a couple of months ago. I work my legs a lot, knowing how important it is that they be strong and resilient and enduring of the steady work that will be required of them for days on end. That was the second biggest mistake I came across in Nepal after acute mountain sickness. Something that I've heard tell time and again from others also. People taking for granted the importance of their legs to a trek, their knees especially. Persistent downhill is hard on knees. That is a reality of trekking. I have met those with bad knees from trekking trails such as Kokoda as young 20-somethings without prior training. Developing osteoarthritis from a 1-2 week trek competed at age 22 is an absurd and unnecessary lifelong complication. It is ultimately far better and less inconvenient to train.

I recently read an article about a 60-something gentleman who had just competed his 200th sub-3 hour marathon. In all that time, he never suffered a major running injury. He strongly advocated listening to your body when exercising. If your body told you that you werenl not fit to finish your weekly long run as planned, then you did not do so at risk injuring yourself. He advocated also training tired. I do not mean that he recommended training injured or training hard when your legs are tired, but going for a long slow run on tired legs better equips them for what they will experience in a marathon. The same is true for trekking and hiking, I do believe. If I want to spend 1-3 weeks walking in excess of 5 hours a day every day (something that my ordinary life does not provide for) then my legs must have the endurance to do so. They learn that endurance by training until they are tired multiple days in a row. I will endeavor to improve upon this endurance slowly over the next 4 or so months. While I certainly do not advocate doing too many kilometers too quickly (as I may have done), I never experienced the pain or exhaustion in Nepal as I did for every kilometer ran over about 16k. I was grateful for the comparison and preparation it leant me but I need to be fitter and harder for Kilimanjaro, at least for summitting day.

Everest Circuit Rerouted VII: Rain, Rain, Go Away

Tuesday, 15 October 2913 19:10 Hrs at 3650m (Phortse Tenga)

The Dudh Kosi, our almost constant companion since Ghat, rages beneath the campsite, louder than I have ever heard it. Water runs down the nearby mountainsides in great rivulets. There are always a handful of waterfalls in view at any time, falls that I am told freeze in winter attracting ice climbers. Water runs down the tracks also, so deep in some places that we rock hop across to the next patch of damp dirt. At one point during the trek from Namche Bazaar to Portse Tenga, we had to climb up a flight of stone steps holding onto a low handrail as the waterfall broke over our heads and brushed our shoulders and ran over our feet. Our sherpa, Basu was not particularly amused being the last of our group to brave the sodden crossing.

It has rained almost constantly since we arrived in Namche Bazaar on Sunday. Not heavy rain, and often no more than incessant drizzle, it has slicked the tracks with thick mud and left us wet to our baselayers. A frenzied search for the ‘perfect’ poncho through Namche’s winding streets yesterday saw at least T and I – and our packs – mostly dry with minimum condensation. Much less than my Montane eVent jacket, the condensation on which transfers too readily to my mid and baselayers, subsequently leaving me cold on stopping (as I discovered on our forays in and around Namche on our acclimatisation day there). The last minute find earned the tick of approval of Basu, as he told me more than once today that the poncho was a very good rain jacket. He, himself, made do with what appeared to be a heavy duty plastic bag intact on two sides, which he drapes over both his head and his pack. We saw a very many variations of this among the other sherpas and porters and Nepalese people treading the wet trails, as well as a surprising number of umbrellas more often than not furnished by one of the locals. The Westerners, however, proceeded in their rainbow parade of Gortex jackets and Nepalese made ponchos (whose zippered sleeves disqualified them from being the perfect ponchos) and waterproof overpants. There was a surprising amount of foot traffic, even following the separation of the Everest Base Camp and Gokyo trails, in both directions. We witnessed as a helicopter landed in a nearby village, presumably to collect a trekker suffering from AMS (only the first of many to come). Our own pace is steady and we do not rush the trails. Even with the extra traffic and poor weather conditions, we still managed to conclude the trek to Phortse Tenga within 5 hours and without any great exertion.

The trail itself is much more difficult than that to Namche Bazaar. And while there was talk of this awful ascent into the town and to our eco-lodge, it was no more difficult than the 1000 steps in the Dandenongs, Victoria, the greatest challenge being unable to see the end. I do believe our gentle introduction to Nepal is at its end, however. The next few days, at least, are relatively short ones which will be fantastic for acclimatising, with afternoon ‘excursions’. Today was the first day I did not go on the excursion. After the long wet slog in the rain with a sore throat and runny nose, I felt it more prudent to rest. As such, for the second time now I pulled my camera tripod out of my kit bag and took a few photographs with the adjusted exposure time. I am looking forwarded to seeing them enlarged when I return to Australia.

Headwind

This week, short as it has been with only four days, has been a trying one nonetheless. A rest day tomorrow is well overdue, although I am trying to mentally prepare myself for a short run in the hopes that it will come to fruition. I've struggled with the motivation to really get back into running.

It seems more and more that I ride my bike uphill into a headwind in the evenings with other road users that behave with ever more self entitlement. This week I have been forced to swerve car doors opening into my path when my strobe light into their rear vision mirror, especially in the dim light, should have made my presence plainly known. To stop and give way to cars that have pulled out into the road in front of me, cutting me off (both from turning right across my path into a side street and turning left onto my road from a side street). To stop because a vehicle is abreast the shared bicycle-pedestrian pathway. To negotiate cars parked in clearway zones at clearway times. To avoid cars that drive two wheels into the bike lane.

Cyclists are by no means a perfect community of road users but the damage a cyclist could cause to a driver and vice versa are incomparable. A fright and scatched car versus death or lifelong impairment hardly fit onto the same scale. Yet how careless some drivers have been toward me, and I'm not even including those that have failed to overtake me at a reasonable distance. To top it all off, winter winds push against me, fighting me for my forward momentum, as I square myself against the enduring rise of St Georges Road, my hip flexors protesting and teeth set. My calves are particularly sore and hardened, their recovery from last weekend delayed. I am grateful for the breeze, however, that keeps the sweat from sheeting off me, the cold blooded Scotsman descendant that I am.

There is something invigorating about riding to work in the morning, however. Even when it is so cold gloves must pad my fingers to retain the sensation in them and my ears are hidden beneath the neck buff that I tuck under my helmet. A little bit of water on the road is even better, as there are less cyclists to contend with and it is quicker to ride than to drive. I try to ride to work at least 3 times a week, each day saving me at least an hour of petrol. I feel that I begin those days at my desk alert and functioning, without the need for a strong caffeine injection. I begin the day well grounded also, especially if I have seen the homeless gentleman that sleeps beneath a narrow overpass on my route, his belongings packed into 3 or 4 green square Woolworths bags lined up neatly in a row.

The weather is truly winter now, our mild autumn ended a fortnight ago. It is so cold that I can hardly feel my hands as I carry my bike down a flight of steps, even in my windproof gloves. I store a cap in my bag in the event I need to keep the rain out of my eyes while I ride. And today as I made my way toward Ferntree Gully to climb the 1000 Steps, I watched as mist enveloped the hillsides so thickly and unexpectedly that I wound my window down to smell for fire, I could hardly believe what I was seeing was cloud. The damp day did make for much less traffic during the 2 hours that I was on those stairs.

My Salomon XA PRO 3D Ultra 2 GTX shoes are slowly but surely being broken in. I bought them specifically for training conditions such as the Steps where I might be inclined to jog or trot downhill. Something that I do quite frequently where pedestrian traffic permits, today being no exception. It is, I believe, the reason for the slow recovery of my legs this week even with a few days of hill and step work already breaking them in. They are less sensitive to the touch today, and I'm hoping they will improve and not worsen again.

On a trek proper, I prefer to wear my Scarpa Mythos nubuck leather hiking boots. They are much sturdier and provide greater ankle support. Last weekend I realised that I have cracked the heel of one orange Superfeet insert that I took to Nepal. Possibly on my rapid descent down the mountainside after the ascent to Kala Pattar. As someone with high arches, I prefer the extra arch support of the orange Superfeet on long hikes to prevent cramping although so far, I have not needed any additional inserts in my Salomons. I have not done a full day's hike in them yet but I will in the next month or so.

I will need to rejoin my hiking club to insert full day walks back into my training calendar for Kilimanjaro. I hiked at least 2-3 Sundays out of the month in preparation for Nepal, routinely carrying 12-14kgs in my pack, keeping pace with other hikers carrying less than two thirds that weight. This, I felt, was an important contribution to my training that I would have wanted for had I not included it in my training regime.

Tonight at my best friend's bridal party dinner, I was seated across from the partner of the Best Man who intimated to me that she thought that while trekking the Kokoda trail a few years before she got by mostly on the vitality of youth and not training, the consequence of which seems to be a persistent weakness in her knees. This is not the first I have heard of knees permanently damaged in twenty-somethings lacking trek preparation, I have heard it applied to Mont Blanc also. Descent is wearing on joints. I try to train specifically to build up the stength of the stabilising muscles around my knees to protect them which is what makes the 1000 Steps such an appealing training ground. It seems that others share that sentiment as I saw a singleton as well as a group hiking with weighted day packs and hiking boots while I was there today.

Over preparation has to be better than under preparation when trekking. Within reason, of course.

1000 Steps, Dandenong

The 1000 Steps located in Dandenong Ranges east of Melbourne is, at least on a pleasant day, a frenetic place to train or to even take a stroll as many seem to do, but there is good reason for it's popularity. The narrow stairs are, in places, hardly the width of two shoulders passing one another. There are regular gaps in the handrail to allow climbers a place of respite out of the way of the other stair-goers and water often collects on the trail making it extraordinarily slippery. It is, however, a beautiful trail. Ferns expand in either direction beneath the great eucalypts. Moss collects on fallen logs. Birds twitter and call and sometimes even flit across the path to hide in the undergrowth almost within reach of it. Through the trees, there is the most beautiful view. It is always slightly cooler and damper than the car park below.

It takes me approximately 15 minutes to scale the steps carrying packed weight. There is another 15 or so minute walk to get to the base of the steps from the car park which I tend to trot down afterward to get back to my car, pack bouncing against my back. I am not a fast climber by any means but I do not stop except for the occasional step aside to allow another significantly faster person to pass me. It is more important that I work on my endurance and longevity than to run to the top with many little breaks. Carrying a bag tends to slow me down. Newly back into training, today I carried 8 litres of water plus my day pack, a couple of bananas, wallet, keys, phone, fleece jacket and wet wipes. Around 9-9.5kgs in all carried up and down that muddy stair case 3 times over. Before Nepal, I was carrying between 16-18kgs and climbing the stairs 3 or 4 times but today was a good reintroduction. I only carried around 5kg here a few weeks ago and I hardly had the leg strength then to go down those slippery steps the second time, they shook so much from the exertion. I let myself get well out of practice.

It never ceases to amaze me the number of small children climbing the steps. Pint size 3 or 4 year olds, perhaps even younger, that really haul arse up that stair case quicker than some of the adults with legs 3 or 4 times the length of their own. Mum or Dad, brother or sister, aunt or uncle following dutifully behind them, maybe with a baby in a front or back carrier. Usually in casual clothes and not leggings and sweat shirts.

People that visit the 1000 Steps for the experience and people that go there to exercise are readily discernable, even in the car park, the latter looking as they would if they were walking through the doors of their gym and not a walk through the bush. Both carry water most of the time. Tension sometimes exists between these two groups.

Those that have come for the exercise do not usually block the stairs and almost always step off to the side to rest if they need to but they can be inpatient to pass other climbers, especially those that run the track even though they are not supposed to. Conversely, casually clothed persons are sometimes slow and very unaware, causing mass congestion by failing to remove themselves from the narrow stair when they are tired or want to take a photo. They can also be seen wearing the most inappropriate footwear: ballerina slippers or high heeled boots, ugg boots with foam soles. Anything that looks like it is not made to walk through the prospect of mud or lacks traction on the sole should be avoided in winter, it is just too muddy and slippery as my blackened legs could attest. Then there are people like myself that carry a day or full hiking pack and usually wear hiking shoes or boots. Occasionally, someone will have a single hiking pole, or a pair, or a stick pulled from the undergrowth. These can form a trip hazard for other walkers although I see benefit in descending with one as it can be very slippery and there is not always a handrail available on the left.

While the first climb is always anonymous, the serious trainers are the faces with which you become familiar because they, like you, are climbing the steps multiple times. The guy in the superman t-shirt. The woman in the increasingly muddy red sneakers. The person hand carrying free weights or wearing a weight vest or a day pack. Not all are thin and wiry, I most certainly am not, but enough are to kind of wish you were too. Just look at the definition of those calves on their third trip past you!

I don't usually find people training alone to be rude or obstructive. Personally, it is those climbing the steps in groups, even in pairs, that I find frustrating. The faster party will scoot past you and then you have to pass them again as they wait for their friend. Or the group rests together, only there is not space enough off the path to do so, so they obstruct some of the narrow pathway causing congestion. They are also harder to overtake going downhill as they are reluctant to separate but they descend slower because they are talking and one is constantly turning back.

There is something endearing about the place, though, even for all the foot traffic. Weekends are busy but they are also the only time that I can train there as I have to commute from the more Northern suburbs. I know that I should just go earlier, it becomes increasingly difficult to find a car park in the afternoon. I need to work on my love of sleep. Speaking of which, I need to right now. I'm riding my bike to work in the morning (it's only a measly 9k or so) and that's always better done rested than not or I become dreadfully forgetful.

There are still more Everest Circuit Rerouted to be posted for those interested.