Inevitability

2018 was the year when I fell four times on runs. The first was a pre-dawn fall in the Domain; a vehicle came up behind me with lights on and I moved to the verge, my own shadow making me oblivious about the drain I was about to put my foot in. That was interesting because I was fine apart from a bit of a graze at the time, but my knee swelled up a few hours later at work. Then there were the two minor falls on daytime long runs: one I was crossing a road while fiddling with my waist pouch and looking out for traffic; the middle of the road had a raised section which I clipped my foot on and had me in a heap in the middle as concerned motorists stopped on either side, but not grazes to show for it. Then less than a week later, my foot hit the base of a sign on a Great North Road footpath sending me again into the pavement but with some lost skin. Then what was the most catastrophic of the series, I was waiting for the Omaha Half to begin and jumped up onto a boardwalk only for my feet to slip out from under me and a heavy fall on my buttocks. I completed the run but the delayed effects of the fall put me out of running for some time; it took almost two months to get back to it. It was freakishly high to wonder whether I should really be out there running at all. Yet in all the years around it, 2016-2017 and 2019-2022, I only had one other fall, a wipe-out on gravel at a sharp corner in an event. 

The forces of probability over a habitual action are worthy of us all to consider, just like speeding on a windy road, even one that you know, could eventually end in disaster. As a runner, and morning runner at that, there are many factors that raise the probability of a fall. There is visibility, which, even with the waistlamp I bought after the first fall in 2018, cannot illuminate every threat in a timely way. Little unevenness on the path is enough to catch a shoe and unbalance. Even with illumination, you can be dazzled by headlights, twilight can cause less visibility than in darkness, and rain or fog on glasses or in the lightbeam are dangers. The moisture factor boggles the mind: I don't know if it is shoe technology or sheer intuitive skill that means the many thousand footfalls on wet footpaths do not regularly result in slips. However, three of the four 2018 falls happened in broad daylight, some surfaces are perilous and distractions can lead to misfooting.

On the 29 July this year I had the fall that broke five straight years without hitting the ground. It was inevitable, thinking of the above, that I'd have another moment of grazed hands, but this felt almost unavoidable on a practical level: I entered a trap. On one of my regular pre-dawn loops I turned onto Portage Road crossing it earlier than usual. I would usually take a newer footpath on the outside by bus-stops but it hadn't yet started and traffic was coming, so I ran onto an older, inner footpath that passed businesses. It was a bit cracked and a copse of trees were to its side blocking street light illumination but I charged down it with only my own light. It was going to be tricky because I'd have a sharp right-hand turn at the end (so not to run onto the road) but not something I hadn't managed before. As I approached the turn my lamp revealed late that the end of the footpath was a stretch of shiny mud, but it was not like I hadn't run in mud before. I slowed and took it with caution but as soon as my first foot hit the mud it slide out and my momentum took me face first to the pavement, my hands fortunately bracing the impact. There was a half second of fright and then a half second to rise and run, and another half second for the burn on palms to register. I was still five kilometres from home and still had work ahead. The result once at home and in the light was several wounds, three on my hands, both elbows and a knee. 

I ran the loop again in broad daylight and I can only conclude that running it if ten normal runners went through that path in the dark, at least five of them would come to grief. It allayed some worries; I knew it just had my number and now I had its. 

A river run through

The north island was blessed by a massive high pressure system that just stalled above it, granting blue skies that had long left our memories, frosts that were absent last year and for us in our home at least, a respite from the fear of wind and leaks. It was also perfect for a run.

But it wasn't just the weather. The last few days of running were good; after some hesitation, I chose what turned out to be the right pair of shoes to run in; my sleep before was smooth; the trip to the venue went without hitch. The only hitches were that it was rather cold, 5 degrees at best; and the Hamilton Gardens where Christy was going to wander, brunch and wait for my arrival wasn't going to open until an hour after the start of the race. 

And so I began my run across frosty grass until a beautiful blue sky along a route that had a scenic inland 14kms, which is seven kilometres to and back from the Hamilton Gardens, and then 28km along the river and back.  I knew a bit of the river section from runs - I knew that there were more slopes than you'd expect, although no "hills". But the fact is that it has more ascent than Auckland or Rotorua marathons. It was a beautiful route, though.

As we got going, I tried to lock into my target pace and get to know the people in the general pacing that I was in. The pace was the tricky thing - I felt like I was running easy but my watch indicated I was going too fast. One runner mentioned that we had gone into a low coverage area so the GPS distancing might be off. We had different paces on our watches. The one runner I knew well, who I will call Cherie, I expected to be faster than me, so intended to just keep her in sight, and during the inland phase slowly ground her way out of range. 

By the time we had looped back to the Gardens the pack had thinned so there were only pairs of runners, with solo runners in between. The river section near the city had its undulation and as it was now mid-race, the legs really started to feel it. I was aware now that I had probably gone too fast on the first part and I tried to rein it in. Worse, during this section Cherie reappeared in my sights, at first 200m away on some of the longer stretches, then 100m away, then 50m away and finally towards the turn back, I passed her. She, who I had thought of as a pace marker, had gone out too quick and had hit the wall, now 28km into it I was slowing and still passing her.

The burn in my calves felt evident around 32km and though I tried to maintain effort, my pace was dropping, later my right hip flexor started to feel creaky. And then the city section undulation hit. I did the largest bump with a very slow grind up the slope, but one slope, the second to last real slope during the 38km, my will broke as my calves screamed for relief. I walked, the first time I had stopped in this fashion in a marathon since 2018. Once I was to the top of it though I got going again and didn't stop till the finish line.

I crawled into the finishing area just after 3:34, about nine minutes slower than I had planned. If I had paced it better I still think a 3:25 time would have been possible but who knows. I was knackered, a bit speechless and a bit sore. I walked around in circles a bit before eventually having a lie on the ground. Fortunately despite a few niggly sensations on the course and a lot of fatigued muscles and tendons, there was no damage or injury.

Despite the mild disappointment, I'm happy to notch up my sixth official marathon. (My 2019 North Shore Marathon was cancelled due to weather but I still ran it.) North Shore will be my next one at the end of August.

Get a niggle on

Three more sleeps and I put on my shoes and run the Kirikiriroa Marathon, Kirikiriroa being the te reo Māori name of Hamilton, kirikiri being a term for gravel, and roa for long, so maybe it was a long gravel stretch, maybe by the riverside, which if so is now a sometimes paved and, yes, sometimes gravel path. 

My path to the start line here there is a curly one. I had got the supercheap earlybird for 2020's edition, but got injured in the December of 2019, and then I had the blessing of the pandemic, the lockdown knocked the event and my entry back a year. 2020 was an average year of running but I still intended to run it when the postponed event of 2021 arose. Fortunately 2021 started very well with my running till a few weeks before, I sprained my ankle coming down Mt Eden. I forfeited my entry and when I eventually started to run again the rest of 2021 was rather uninspiring running-wise. I entered 2022's event more in hope than anything else, but in the Auckland Half-Marathon a few months before the event, I felt my Achilles flare up and it put me off training and knocked me out of running the 2022 Kirikiriroa event. Unfortunately/Fortunately, Omicron wave surged to New Zealand shores and in an abundance of confidence, they postponed the event, and all entries, to 2023. So my attempted entries were alternately stopped by pandemic, injury or both.

Saying it like that makes it sound like I'm always hurting myself, but there are long stretches of wellness in between. The dilemma of niggles and injuries is part and parcel of being a runner. Injuries  can be accidents like the ankle sprain happen, but they can arise out of overuse such as my Achilles flare-up. 

But niggles are a different kettle of fish. As you train and slowly stress your body more and more, parts of the body inevitably go through the adjustments and aches and pains arise. These can sometimes feel like injuries, but are not; or worse, may appear to be niggles but are actually the early signs of an injury. As such, there is a lot of anxiety when the first niggles appear. My training this year had its early minor niggles but my first moment of uncertainty was in late April when after the Concrete Monster run, I had some tightness near my knee that felt like a possible strain. I rested a few days and massaged the area and only via that did I realise it was not an issue of the tendons around the knee but a muscle knot deep in my quad. After releasing that knot, the issue disappeared. A definitive non-injury niggle. Two weeks later the hinge point of my left ankle felt sore after another challenging run. I rested it a couple of days before running again to the same issue, but while running I thought about a solution of using heel inserts temporarily, and also that my usual work shoe insoles had been swapped into the running shoes. After putting in the inserts (which I wore for two weeks) and changing the insoles, the feeling disappeared. Another niggle. And then just last week, after my last "fast" workout my right lower calf was tight. This time I more or less "ran through it" (i.e. I didn't change my training or add rests) and a few days later it resolved itself.

One of the key lessons from my many trips to physiotherapists is the wisdom of the "3/10" on the pain scale. Pain has various levels and though subjective, there is a descriptive spectrum that people use, and 3/10 is the highest degree of pain that one should persist in an activity, although depending on how the body part in question feels after and the next day. For many niggles and injuries, it is in fact better to be active and potentially taking your body to the 3/10 as a way of healing rather than rest. All of my niggles were in this zone and fortunately were nothing worse than an unhappy muscle or joint. 

Even with the niggles, it has been a smooth training block more or less. But strangely I'm not 100% what time I should be aiming for for the marathon, I would say it's a broad aim for 3:28 and see how I feel at halfway, which is not how it should be as my MP (marathon pace) should have been something I had my training set around. This morning before one of the few runs this week, I also realised I hadn't even settled on which pair of shoes I should run in, an important consideration. I guess I've been distracted from the basic decision making for the race though clearly still going through the motions of what looks like good training. Almost four years since my last full marathon, I guess I should be just glad to finish the distance under my perennial target of 3:30 and do so with ease.

The Ding Dynasty

Anyone who has watched The Queen's Gambit knows that the Russians are a chess superpower. It wasn't always like that though. The first official world champion (in the nineteenth century) was an Austrian, the second a German, the third a Cuban and the fourth a Russian who defected to Vichy France, then just before the war, an honest Dutchman became took the throne (commonly thought to be the weakest world champion ever) before the man he defeated took it back and before being the only man to die on the throne. But from 1948 to 1972 the Russians held the crown.

It was only in 1972 that one extraordinary player emerged outside the Soviet Union to smash their dominance for one cycle. That was Bobby Fischer and he obliterated the opposition before disappearing from the chess world completely and became the first champion to refuse to defend his title. After doing what he did you could almost imagine he had already declared his mission accomplished. The second stanza of his life was quite bizarre and probably helped create the chess player archetype of an extreme intellect who does not follow conventions. Cue another 30 years of Russian dominance, the summit of which was the Beast of Baku, Garry Kasparov, generally considered to be one of the greatest of all time. It was 2006 before there was another undisputed world chess champion not from Russia. An astonishing Indian, the rival for Garry as the GOAT, the next level Norwegian Magnus Carlson. 

Magnus has been the highest rated player in the world and, for parts of that, the strongest player in the history of the world. When someone says the word "unrivalled" it is genuine. All of the contenders who have challenged him have failed in his ten years as champion that ended this year. In the time, he has beaten the challenger, usually a very strong player who successfully outscores the world's other best players in a grueling "Candidates Tournament", winning seventeen games and lost twice over five matches against four different players. In 2022, on a podcast he let drop the megaton news that he was unlikely to defend his title as it was too tiring to prepare for and little interest for him. Some took it as a bluff. He even added some spice to the mix by saying it would only be interesting if it was against a young Iranian-French player who was at the time rocketing up the rankings. In the end, the contender from his 2021 match won the Candidates again and Magnus confirmed he wouldn't defend his title. Instead, a match was arranged between the winner of the Candidates, Ian Nepomniatchi of Russia, and the second placed player, Ding Liren of China.

This made everyone and everything extremely awkward. How can you have a world championships without the strongest player? When Fischer refused to defend his title he wasn't even playing - Carlson is still very active and whoever becomes "champ" will probably be losing to him, and probably not dominating the chess world like a champ. Making it worse, Magnus had dismantled Ian in the 2021 match. But it was a date and Ian and Ding were in for the championships.

Ding Liren is a interesting player. Chinese men for a long time were not in top chess - it was in fact a Chinese woman who did the Fischeresque act of breaking Russian hegemony that had existed from the first champion in 1927 until it was broken by Xie Jun in 1991. Since then China has had the womens crown more often than not. The womens world championship this year will be an all-China affair. Yet the Chinese men for a long time did not have a player even close to the top ten. But in the 2000s the first strong players emerged and in the last five years Ding has been a powerful force. But the Covid period was not kind to him and his chances of qualification for the Candidates. He never seemed supported by the State to begin with and struggled to get outside of China to play chess. (Some other Chinese players managed to base themselves outside and keep active.) He played many online events but to qualify for the Candidates you need to fulfil a complicated set of qualifying categories such as winning the chess equivalent of the Majors. Initially he missed out on that before a Russian player who had qualified said outrageous political comments in relation to Ukraine and was removed leaving a space open. One way for him to qualify was to be the strongest player by rating besides Magnus, which Ding was, and who had also played a minimum required number of games, which Ding had not. In a method that many criticised at the time, tournaments were set up for him to play at short notice for him to play the required number of games. And then after a slow start he won a must win game at the end to scrape into second place and thus put himself in the world championships match against Ian.

Prior to the match there was a lot of speculation that the match would be a fizzer and struggle to grab the imagination. But it quickly became quite the spectacle. In fact, it became quite the slugfest with five decisive games in the first seven, with Ian winning three and Ding winning two. The last of this brutal phase was a loss for Ding where in a strong position he "froze" - he only had four minutes for about nine moves and inexplicably thought for five minutes for one move, a bad one, after which he quickly lost. Ding is quintessentially Chinese from the movies - inscrutable, composed and unflappable; yet he was in a visible collapse. Many thought that the match would be a collapse but a sequence of fighting draws began. It was to be the best of fourteen, and if that was tied, they'd go into a "rapid" play-off (a faster time control). Until the twelfth game, Ian held his lead but in that game, with black, the less advantageous colour, he put Ding's king in a vice and all he had to do is squeeze. Now it was Ian's time to do the unimaginable - he did what has been one of his greatest strengths but also his Achilles heel: he played fast. Ian must be uncomfortable to play because you never rest - he is always thinking on your clock and soon as you move, he sips his tea and then blitzes out a move. Here, a few impulsive moves turned his commanding position into an equal position, and then a single move played after just seconds reduced it to rubble. It was now his turn to visibly shatter. Ding equalised and after two draws, it was 7-7 and they had to go into the rapid play-offs.

The rapids were all played on a single day, for me it was Saturday night. And compared to the play in the "classical" fourteen games, the quality perversely improved with the players having less time to think. Three tough draws led to the final game of the rapid play-off; if this was drawn, it would be down to a blitz play-off that wouldn't end till there was a champ. The final game, Ding with the black pieces, was a complicated affair with Ian strong in the beginning, before Ding wrestled him to equality. It could have been a draw but Ian kept trying to win; it could have been a draw but Ding after wavering decided to play for the win, too. Ding under pressure found some extraordinary moves quickly that Ian, unused to being the one with less time for once, struggled to find responses, too. The final scenes of that game were complete disintegration for Ian. Ding became the champion.

So a spectacle it was between two less than superhuman players of immense chess strength. To be clear, the quality of play was roundly criticised. Magnus matches demonstrate clinical precision; this match was two guys playing below their strength. It remains to be seen whether Ding can regain his previous powers with the title now weighing around his neck. 

This weekend I'll complete my 1500th kilometre of the year. This has been my fastest year to this milestone, a whole one month faster than my best previous year, 2019. However, I don't feel as fast as 2019. In that year I did more events by this time whereas this year it has been just training up to this point. In fact, that year I had already completed a 3:27 marathon in Rotorua, my best back then. Would I be able to do that now? I am a bit doubtful but have done some rather good efforts, including conquering the Concrete Monster at a pace that had me doubting my watch. I had a much strong running partner that day, in horrendous conditions, and even towards the end I was able to belt out high speeds. Immediately after that effort though I had my first niggle of 2023, I had some tightness near my left knee, which was actually a hidden muscle knot higher up in my quad. I stopped running basically for five days - it felt like a year - and did other exercises and daily massage until it resolved. 

Five weeks to go basically means two more "peak weeks" of 100km/week and then the start of a gradual tapering of training, which focusses on running less but faster, and focussing on rest. I'm looking forward to this as much as the race. I hope I can keep these weeks "clean" of injury and niggles while also getting my confidence to maintain a good pace. I still think it is possible for me to go below 3:27, or even if things go smoothly, set a new PB below 3:22. Tomorrow though is a rest day after seven days "running" so I get a glorious sleep in to 6:45am.

But the Kirikiriroa Marathon is now five weeks away. 

Twist and shout

It has been four months since my last blog, which may well be the longest time without an online record here. It's not a great surprise - this last four months, let's say the first third, has been something of a frenetic swirl. Looking back to December 2022, my blog was merely my first chess tournament in well over 20 years. Chess is something of a luxury now - I'm quite lucky that I only paid a small $20 for membership at the Auckland Chess Club for the absolute pleasure of six over-the-board games. 

What came next? Well, there was Christmas of course - a small scale celebration compared to other years. And then a splendid trip to Australia where we finally reciprocated with our Australian friends and enjoyed the swings between 36 and 16 degrees. Upon my return back to work, I was jerked back into my old two-role status as my replacement quit after a tumultuous 5 months. Then there was our spin into house-hunting. There was the now historic downpours of this late Auckland summer, and once things vaguely dried out, there was the big move to our new neighbourhood, mother and all. And there was the bounce back to marathon training. To be clear, there hasn't been many moments to sit back and reflect, literally. I would count this as my busiest period of life ever.

Pick a swirl and there are threads aplenty. Moving house, and into our first home, has been an interesting experience. The search, our second attempt, was a normal bustle. We tried at first to do it ourselves, plotting out open homes and what-not. There were some mildly interesting places but nothing compelling. Then one of our friends landed their first home and recommended an agent to show us around and we agreed to give that a go - and it was quite the adventure. Being primarily a do-it-yourself kind of person (but not much of a DIY type), it was a bit of a leap. But entrusting such a process to someone else had its advantages - he would find all the places that matched our preferences, noticed why we rejected places and found better and better places until an area had no more places that met specifications and we changed focus area. We searched North Shore, specifically Glenfield and Albany. A few places were attractive but missed key features.

The biggest reason to reject was the lack of a ground floor bedroom with no stairs leading into the house. This was because we wanted to preserve the option, or even welcome the option from the get-go, of my mother coming to live with us. She has been "getting older" but at a faster rate than most elderly it seemed. She had her lucky breaks in not breaking bones when she had her occasional falls. She "humorously" got lost when driving once. Though she was diligent about remembering certain things, some day-to-day things often became big issues. It seemed only a matter of time for an accident, or her ability regressing to the point that living alone and self-management were not possible. Whether moving in with us straight-away or as a later option, we had to avoid steps or ramps in our future home and all facilities had to be available to the person on the ground floor. This took requirement took some getting to understand and be aware of. We would walk into a house and immediately note something such as there being a bedroom on the ground floor, a toilet, but no shower or bathing facilities. One place close to where we eventually bought was an excellent one level place, except for the fact that one that one level had steps up to it from most angles. As it was, when we started to talk about places, she was very open to the move and this consideration gained more weight. 

Another criterion for us was parking - most new-builds had minimal parking, apparently part of council requirements to reduce car use, increase commercial intensification and public transport use. (Not sure if that is the case - our agent mentioned it at one place that we liked but with minimal parking.) As it was, with my mother moving in, we'd have three cars, and many places were on "no parking" areas on the roads they were built on. 

We had our own room requirement of two or bathrooms, three bedrooms, but telling were the things we were willing to sacrifice for the above: a backyard, a convenient area and a new-build home. In the end, the place that fulfilled that was an older but renovated home, with a backyard but relatively inconvenient area out west. The settlement process was filled with hesitation, anxiety, sudden hopes and stabbing regrets as our money was ceremonially tied up into a mortgage.  

The move itself would count as the biggest exertions of my life, especially because I did not stop my marathon training at the time. For over a week, I was averaging 35,000 steps a day as we moved first to mum's and then collectively to the new place. I ran in the mornings then did the packing away of objects, moving them from house to car, car to garage, or out of car and eventually up to new place. We had a moving company, of course, for the large items but the packing. And then there was the donation of items, the disposal of gathered and deteriorating items, the assembling of new furniture and the arrangement of it thereafter. In a curious twist, I'm pretty confident that the moving worked as a "prehah" workout, building a great core that supported the dynamics of running. 

And with the running and moving my weight plunged to 60kg. There was a perverse fascination that unlike previous marathon training where I would approach but never touch the 65kg asymptote, this has been an exceptional period. It might have been the concurrent exertion of moving house. Or perhaps the slower transition up to higher mileage - as soon as I cross the 80km/week line I get ravenous and this time I lingered a longer time in the 60-70km range. I also started doing self-made smoothies for the first time in life with superfoods, as a post-workout drink, but possibly not replacing all that I burned off. Most of my morning runs were done "unfuelled" because I don't have time for more than a coffee before I head out the door. The most common superfoods in my smoothies are berries, maca powder and cacao, with occasional additions of ground hemp, hemp protein, chia seeds, greek yoghurt, arepa powder, matcha, kale and acai. 

The addition of maca, and also my first use of ashwagandha, I might speculate was quite critical in not really feeling much stress during this period, aside from an anxious night or two. As mentioned my successor as Director of Studies resigned the second day back from summer holidays, meaning I had to swoop back into the role while still doing a very busy role. We had two massive weather events in Auckland that required a Covid-esque scramble to notify students of online arrangements, train staff, etc. A staff member had a heart attack and another was arrested and then paranoid, perhaps due to drug use. (The latter was dismissed not long after but not before making accusations against me.) A greenhorn staff member was going rogue at the same time. And two staff members in my other school became estranged and required me to intervene. All while I was moving house! Considering my episode last year, I was almost waiting for my psychology to react negatively. It didn't. I wouldn't say that I was exactly a Zen monk but it was pretty much all in-stride, but with little time to do anything but what was in front of me.

I am really looking forward to that normal, quiet life that the future often promises. I'm looking forward to our eventual housewarming when everything will be in its right place. I'm looking forward to my sixth official marathon in June. I'm looking forward to reading a novel on our excellent balcony and planting things in the backyard. I'm also looking forward to writing again and thinking more and doing a whole lot less. 

Roundly six beaten

Round Six out of six concludes this series reporting my first chess tournament in half a lifetime. It has been quite the experience. This round was quite the rollercoaster, and considering there has been some rollypolly games it was rather fitting. 

The week before was a bit of a blur. It was according to my Fitbit my worst week of sleep. (Average of 5 hours 40 mins over the week, which I'm sure insomniacs and Margaret Thatcher would find a luxury but it took its toll.) I had thought I knew my opponent but barely had time to do much about it. I did my analysis practice but I had a pretty bad streak on that too that sunk my rating. The omens were not good. 

I walked in to find the hall relatively unpopulated and about half of the competitors "taking a bye". If you cannot come for any reason, you can the equivalent of a draw, 0.5 points but no rating change, etc. I don't really know why they did that, whether they were aiming for a good overall result and their previous rounds hadn't been ideal, or it was end of the year and they were busy. Either way, my predicted opponent was among the "byes". In his place was the slightly bigger brother of my Round 3 opponent, all 13 years of him. He approached the board with a face of utter distain and disinterest. I only knew later, but that is just him being him. He's a nice young man.  

Anyway, I had white; the clock struck 7pm and were off; my opponent played the Sicilian and I replied the way the Round One game should have gone: 

1. e4 c5 2. Nf3 Nc6 3. c3 - the Delayed Alapin; this is what I have played recently against the Sicilian, except in that first round game went when I was mesmerised into playing the Open Sicilian which I have no experience. 

We continued: 3. ... d5 4. exd5 Qxd5 5. d4 b6?! Despite his face of distain, up to this point he was immediately playing the main line of the Delayed Alapin - he knew his stuff. But with his last move he takes it into unknown seas for me. I've never seen this before and I didn't think it was good. It wasn't, but as he said after the game, he plays it because no-one else does and so have to figure it out over the board. Tricky little fella, huh.

6. Na3 Bb7 7. Bc4 Qd7? 8. d5! (?) For you Dearest Non-Chessplaying-But-Reading-Along-Anyway Reader, you will probably be tired of references to what the computer says. The computer will sometimes spit out the inhuman, impossible moves; but often it sheds a light on how best to play and can be quite instructive. The funniest thing about this game is that I played this move completely blind of his next move, which I inexplicably didn't see. I thought I was winning when I was clearly not. He played his next move, 8. ... O-O-O and I was plunged into cold water. I hadn't seen his obvious move at point blank range. And it was now a thorny position. I spent about 20 minutes peering at it. I saw some tricks but none of them forcing. It looked like I had just surrendered a pawn and would be on the back foot. 

Except, on returning home and looking for the best move, the computer again spat out: 8. d5! It is significantly stronger than anything else. When the computer evaluates a position, it will give a number positive is an advantage to white, negative to black, with 1.0 roughly equivalent to being a pawn up, 3 points for a bishop or knight, 5 points roughly for a rook, and 9 points for a queen. The move d5! in response to his Qd7 changes the evaluation from 1.0 to 4.5! Essentially the position is gives me about half a queen advantage. But I played it without knowing what the computer knew and I was the one sweating bullets in this "difficult" position. Not surprisingly, my moves were not what the computer thought were the best.

9. Bf4? Qf5 10. Qd2? - Now the computer evaluation dropped back to 1.0; I was still "winning" in bytes, but thinking I was losing. I spent another 20 minutes on Qd2. Remember I have 75 minutes to start the game (and 30 extra seconds for each move I play). So, my last two moves took half of my time for the whole game. And they weren't great moves. Meanwhile he was taking only a minute or two per move, still with over an hour on his clock.

My last move was a cunning move, though - there are plenty of ways for him to proceed that I thought would give him a strong advantage and one that does not. It is a trap which I am proud to say I had spotted and analysed. And after a minutes thought he played exactly that: 10. ... e5?? 11. dxc6 11. Rxd2 12. cxb7+ Kxb7 13. Bxd2

His e5 move looked strong but he allows me to "sacrifice" my queen. It isn't really because it will cost him two pieces and a rook for my queen and a pawn. Using that maths from above, I was taking 11 points of material and giving away 10 points. Generally speaking, if coordinated, three pieces including a rook would be much better than a queen. After the game he admitted that he hadn't even seen it. He saw that my 11th move would lose the queen so he didn't need to analyse any further. Now he was taking more time! I thought I was winning now, although the computer is a dick and only says I have a 2 point advantage.

Both of us now try consolidating after the aftermath of the massive material exchange: 13. ... e4 14. Ng5 Nh6 15. O-O Be7 It was here that I had another moment of blindness. It would be easy to explain it with the lack of sleep, but generally it is unforgiveable: I saw a combination that would win me a pawn. But it didn't - it simply lose a knight for the pawn: 16. Nxe4! (?) Qxe4 17. Rae1 Qh4. Somehow I missed his very obvious saving move. 

But, incredibly, and unbeknownst to all concerned. It wasn't a blunder. It isn't the best move but doesn't move the computer's needle much. It still had me with a 2 point advantage. Thinking I was losing, I started playing faster: 18. g3 Qf6 19. Nc2?

It's only now that the two players agree with the computer: Black is now winning. 

19. ... Nf5 20. Ne3 Nxe3 21. Bxe3 Rd8 22. h4 Qg6 23. Re2? Bxh4

And now I blunder a pawn. I didn't even see it before he snatched it from the board with glee.

24. Bf4 Bf6? 25. Rfe1 - out of the carnage finally my pieces are now all working together, though fewer in number than before. And what's more, I have my first real concrete threat. There is a checkmate in the position, which would get some weaker players. He spent a lot of time before settling on: 25. ... Rd7? - which apparently can lead to a draw, which I was not able to see. Instead, my calculation fails be again and I miss a significant point in my kamikaze attack: 26. Bb5 Rd8 27. Re7+? Bxe7 28. Rxe7+ Ka8! 

It must be said his analysis is pretty good. He found his way through the threats and probably both of us thought I was busted. But after some self-loathing I found one unexpected resource: 29. Be2!

29. ... Rd3! - There were only two moves to keep the advantage and this move was the best. It shut down my threats and offers me a chance to simplify. It might have been the tiredness but I thought that was the only realistic strategy and went for it, not seeing a more active continuation: 

30. Bxd3? Qxd3 31. Rxf7?? Qd1+ - and it was over. My 13 year old opponent took no time spotting an easy tactic which I again missed to win my rook. Child's play, in every sense of the word. Before he could, I offered my hand in resignation. 

With a disinterested look, he happily agreed to analyse the game with me. And with distain he shared his worries and his own heart-in-mouth moments. He got revenge for his brother; and even though they are numerically rated quite similarly, this one demonstrated with his understanding in analysis that he is the strongest at this time. I chatted a bit with his dad and I congratulated him on the new addition to the family, another daughter, or as he put it, another chessplayer.

So, the tournament is over: 2 wins, 2 draws, 2 losses, both with white. Almost all the games were full of intrigue, attack and possibility. All had things to learn and think about. I probably won't play another tournament till February but think I can try my best to discipline my thoughts, improve my openings and analysis and win more games in the future. 

Thank you for reading.

The Weekly Grind

Coming off my win against a young junior, I got served up with another in Round 5 (of 6). That means only one of my opponents have been over 14 years old. This week's 10 year old was a young Shanghainese speaking youth, completely unknown to me. I only found after the game that he was actually the highest rated opponent! And he appears to have shot ahead in rating in the last year, from 1600 to almost 1900. 

I had thought I was to play an even stronger opponent, a new friend, who played on the board next to me. One of the humorous things was the first few moves were the same, both his opponent and I went for the Caro-Kann, which makes that two weeks in a row for me, too, having been paired black.

1. e4 c6 2. d4 d5

I had an interesting week of preparation. A new app has me hooked and I've barely played any online games. This app is really good for strengthening your mental calculation in chess, in other words, seeing moves ahead in your mind. The thing that hooked me is that I really felt the improvement - I could see things and get sequences right many moves ahead and was better at noticing some hidden resources. It has meant though that I haven't really spent much time on strengthening my opening knowledge. Despite it being my favourite line, I don't know much in the way of continuations, and after what was one of his longest thinks of the game, on move three, he chose the Tal Attack of the Advance Caro-Kann:  3. e5 Bf5 4. h4

Mikhail Tal was the populariser of this line, and quite incredible among World Chess Champions as an unorthodox, sacrificial player who was a true force of nature on the board, sweeping all aside to take the throne. He then lost the return match to his predecessor to have one of the shortest reigns in history. Though always dangerous, he never got back to challenging but remained a cult hero. 

My opponent was not Tal though. 4. ... h5 5. Bd3 Bxd3 6. Qxd3 e6 7. f4 

And with one move shows he knows even less opening theory than me. This isn't such a great move, although it has a few benefits. He told me after the game that he didn't play the Advance Caro-Kann and this was his first time over the board. Anyhow, it is playable so we played on: 7. ... Ne7 8. Ne2 Nf5 9. g3 c5 10. c3 Nc6 11. Nd2 Qb6? 

My calculation practice didn't serve me well here as I missed a beat, and a chance to get an advantage. I thought what I played had a better chance but 

12. Nf3 Rc8 13. Rh2!? cxd4 14. Nexd4 Ncxd4 15. Nxd4 Nxd4 16. Qxd4!?

Now, I did mention that this boy was the highest rated of my opponents, didn't I? Yet, his moves are extraordinarily drawish. He just wanted to exchange off all his pieces. Although the computer said I had an edge, he still had plenty of play. After the game, he said he was actually playing for a draw from the beginning and I don't really know why! Either way, I didn't know at that time that he was a higher rated opponent and refused to exchange more.

16. ... Bc5 17. Qd3 g6 18. Re2 a5 19. Be3 Ke7 20. Bxc5+ Rxc5 21. Kf1 Qc6

We'd exchanged off more pieces but I still have a lingering edge but I'd also muddled my way to a rather large time deficit again. These juniors don't um-and-ah. He still had 1 hour on his clock and I was down to 28 minutes. I picked up the pace a little but he didn't slow:

22. Rd1 b5 23. Qd4 Qc7 24. Rdd2 Rc4 25. Qe3 Re4 

Whether it be time or ability, I didn't exploit the edge and it started to go a bit level-ish. 

26. Qd3 Rxe2 27. Rxe2 Qc4? 28. Qe3

Now it's my turn to offer to exchange off more material. Now we're both down to just down to a queen and a rook each and a ton of pawns. He initially refuses before forcing queens off a few moves later:

28. ... Rc8 29. Qa7+ Qc7 30. Qxc7+ Rxc7 31. Rd2 b4 32. cxb4 axb4 33. Rd4 Rc1+

But now the tide began to turn a little bit. He had been going pretty hard at exchanging pieces but that brought us to the "endgame" - a phase of the game though apparently simpler actually gives very subtle moves a lot more power. A small mistake in the endgame can leave you in a world of pain. And young people tend to do worse in the endgames. Lucky for me it started to show:

34. Ke2 Rc2+ 35. Rd2 Rc4 36. Ke3 Re4+ 37. Kd3 Kd7 38. Rc2? Re1! 39. Rg2? Kc6 40.

Rc2+ Kb6 41. Rg2? Ra1 42. b3 Rc1 43. Kd2?

He played this move still with 50 minutes on his clock and me dipping below 10 minutes, and asked: "Draw?" It is acceptable to offer draws in chess and to be clear, for the last 20 or so moves, at best I had a small edge at times. But the last few moves were played poorly by him. I just replied: "I'd like to play on a bit more.

43. ... Rc3 44. Rg1 Kc5 45. g4?? 

And two moves after his draw offer, he "sold the farm". I could see victory in my sights! My clock was at 9 minutes so I was playing fast but pressuring him. 

45. ... hxg4 46. Rxg4 Rh3 47. Rg1 Rxh4 48. Ke3 Rh3+ 49. Kd2 After the game, he said he knew he was lost but could see one "trap". Though playing fast my time was still going down, and it just took two moves of mine to take his bait and grab a draw out of the jaws of victory.

48. ... Rh2+? 50. Kd3 Rxa2?? 51. Rc1+ 

It only dawned on me now that something had gone wrong. I had not seen the come back and thought myself safe. To be clear, I still had the edge, but to try winning now was risky and my time could catch me out if it got more complicated. 

51. ... Kb6 52. Rc8 Ra7 53. Rb8+ Kc5

And after 53 moves, I offered a draw, which he took in a heartbeat to be clear, even if he wanted to continue, his best would be just to repeat moves and in International Chess, repeating positions three times is a draw. And here is how it looked:

He was really great in the post-mortem. We both saw killer moves that the other didn't see, and both saw strong strategies in the opponent's position that our opponents didn't treat as viable options. Overall, a draw seemed the right result. So now that leaves me with two wins, two draws and a loss. In my two draws I have had outright wins that I've missed and a lot of that comes down to my time management. It's definitely something to work on. Also, with the computer at the end, I found again that I did not know that I had the edge for almost the whole game. There were times when I thought his position was better, very similar to last week. 

So, next round is the final round and I will have white. It may be possible for me to anticipate my opponent, who will be on three points but having played three whites, and two blacks previously and who has the highest rating (because I will have the lowest). Can't wait!

Yes, I kann!

Every chessplayer knows the rollercoaster of emotions and motivation around their play. After two rounds I was believing I could win them all, and then after my round three capitulation, I was wondering if I should even bother. Chess, especially classical chess, can a very long struggle for an eventual loss; and defeats can feel, well, defeating.

Round four I came twenty minutes early to find a car crash on the road outside and not many people inside the chess centre. It was a peculiar evening. There was no-one familiar so I just sat at a playing table and played chess on my phone until the pairings were announced. The arbiter was talking to some juniors and coincidentally raised my name, presumably because one of them, possibly my opponent, asked who I was, "unrated but strong, about 1700" was his summary. And it is probably accurate. 

Once the crowd disappeared I saw my pairing was another junior, different to my last two rounds though as he was from a Pasifika background. A little search found him and his family in the news with trophies galore. At 11 he was rated much stronger than my round two opponent, close to my "1700".

Fortunately, just like my previous round's opponent, he was mature and comfortable around adults and we could chat before the game. Then it was show time and I finally got to play the opening that defeated me in the last round, the Caro-Kann, this time from the black side. 

1. e4 c6 2. Nf3 d5 3. exd5 cxd5 4. Be2 Nf6 5. O-O Bg4 6. c3 e6 7. d3 Bd6 8. Bg5

O-O 9. Nbd2 Nbd7 

The game was not any usual start to the Caro-Kann. In fact, I've never had an opponent play like it: He just set up his pieces, seemingly without trying to have them interact much with mine. He said after the game that he hadn't played against the Caro-Kann before and was just really making it up as he went along. The moniker "All pawns and no hope" comes when people attack the Kann and this wasn't yet much of a challenge. But, the young man hadn't done anything wrong. And for what it's worth, I was just setting myself up without really trying to do too much either. But now he began to make moves against me.

10. c4 

I have never seen this move in the Kann. But the more I looked at it, the more I was unsure how to deal with it. After much hesitation, I played a nothing move that I had vague plans around. Immediately he showed he had solid plans:

10. ... Re8 11. Nd4 Bxe2 12. Qxe2 Rc8 13. Nb5 Bb8 14. Kh1 a6 15. Nc3

Now, I go through these games with an engine to understand my opportunities better and to be clear around this point I was having some dread that I was being outplayed. Perhaps this is the feeling I will always have. The computer thought I had a solid edge, but all I could see was his initiative.

And it was here that happened one of those sequences where I conceive of a line and then immediately regret it thinking it was losing:

15. ... dxc4 16. Nxc4 Qc7 17. f4 Nd5 18. Ne4!?

Now, he is really getting in my face. In fact, he has a really concrete threat of planting a knight in my throat and forking my rooks that were arranged perfectly for forking on account of that nothing move earlier on. I was burning through time. He already had about a thirty minute advantage in time and what I thought was a handy advantage on the board. The amazing thing is that the engine gives me a clear advantage. I spent a ton of time looking at a rash looking pawn grab and thought after a long time that it couldn't possibly work. (It did work.) Then looked at a banal move unenthused. (It was would keep my advantage.) Then there was a move right before me that I hadn't really wanted to think about and suddenly it looked a lot better than anything else, so I played it.  18. ... f6. Amazingly all three moves are the equal best moves, all with a strong advantage but I wasn't strong enough to realise it.

What I didn't see coming was that he would throw caution to the wind a throw a haymaker: 19. Ncd6 - he went for my throat and in doing so was sacrificing a bishop. I took it, 19. ... fxg5, and then he gave his follow-up: 20. Rac1??

After 20. Rac1?? - the beginning of the end for my young opponent.

 

It was a blunder - the kind that you have to stop and make sure it is not some elaborate trap. I'm not sure at what point he realised it was a mistake. He had attacked my queen with his rook not realising I could in fact take his attacker with impunity. If he recaptured, it would have been checkmate. So, scooting down the board my queen went to take his rook.

20. Qxc1 21. Nxe8, he moved quickly with almost the only move, and then I realised there was a possible trap. I almost moved to my logical follow up Rc2 without thought before I found an even better move: 21. ... Nxf4 

The game then went quickly downhill for him. His position to be clear had some dangerous elements but no time to stick them together: 22. Qf3 g4 23. Qf2 Rc2 24. g3 Qxb2 25. Qg1 Nh3, and he put his king on its side to indicate resignation, 0-1.

I am still amazed that the computer had me stronger for most of the game despite my intuition. I was clearly setting my pieces with a lot of latent power and that was also why, even in my middlegame frustration, almost any of the three moves were actually strong. 

He was astonishing though for his age. He could set up his forces to an opening that was unfamiliar to him and even in defeat you could see he was calculating accurately. For him, it was a one move blunder that meant I had an easier time. If he hadn't, what would have happened? The computer has me with an edge but his position would have had more life and the chance for me to make a mistake, especially since I was so far behind in time. 

Here is the game as it happened. Notice the tide turning.