On the Run

Overdressed (again)

2013-05-20T21:48:00.001-07:00

I felt too worn out to run trails this morning. But I know that I can’t run three days this week due to other obligations. So, I HAD TO run this morning if I wanted four running days. Believe me. I would have much rather gone back to sleep after I made the boys breakfast and lunches, and drove them off to school. Actually, I would have much rather stayed in bed to begin with and lazily got up, say around 11 AM.

We were socked in this morning in our seaside town. The breeze was cool, the air damp. I put on a long sleeved running shirt, filled a handheld and out the door I went for a drive to Aliso/Wood Canyons.

My run began beneath gray cool skies. My trot was slow, but deliberate. I passed two coyotes as they meandered through the dry grass alongside my single-track trail.

Quick stop in Wood Canyon to stretch tight shins:

Barely a half mile passed running through the dry, yet lovely golden meadows on Meadows Trail, when the sun popped out from the clouds. Suddenly the sky was blue, and my shirt dripped sweat. Yup, overdressed again. I turned my hat around and I begun to think that perhaps a handheld wasn’t the best idea for today’s ten mile loop. (I turn my hat around because the rim traps heat in around my face, and I hate that).

A little heat won’t hurt me though, especially dry heat. As long as I’m not lost and I have access to water, I know I’m okay. And there’s places with drinking fountains that I know of along the ridge. But first, there was getting to the ridge. Of which I, in my infinite wisdom chose the steepest hill (why? because it’s the steepest hill) to get there.

Climbing Mentally Sensitive was a bear as usual. I had to fight against conserving water. It’s almost a natural inclination when fluids are limited. I’ve found though that it’s never a good idea to conserve water when I need it.

A typical step up Mentally Sensitive:

And isn’t it all worth it? (View from Mentally Sensitive):

At the ridge, I debated running the next mile or so to Alta Laguna Park at The Top of the World with about a 1/4 filled handheld. There was a closer fountain, but I’d have to backtrack to get to it. I don’t like backtracking. “I can do it,” I thought. “It’s only about a mile.” This is what heat does to a person – it makes you stupid. But I hadn’t gone completely overboard as the salt dripped down into my eyes. I told myself, “Don’t be a fool! How many times do you have to learn? REFILL.” And so I ran in the opposite direction into Moulton Park to refill my handheld. Good thing too. I drank all of it during that short mile to the next fountain.

After reaching Top of the World and refilling again, I took the ridge to Mathis Trail for a long downhill trip on an exposed trail with absolutely no shade at all. By now I would have ripped off my long sleeves and ran in my running bra if I wasn’t so dang modest. Note to self: It’s practically summertime. Time to layer!

In all, these ten miles were a true delight. (Despite my sleepy sarcasm. It’s SO past my bedtime).

Running down Mathis into Wood Canyon:

The Profile: (Yikes! Actually, not as bad as it looks):

Mmmmm . . . Candy!

2013-05-18T21:32:00.001-07:00

This morning I woke at the ridiculous hour of 4AM. Why? So that I could drive an hour into the mountains and run The Candy Store run as the sun rose. The drive up the windy mountain was uneventful as car after car raced down in the opposite direction from Riverside county, to jobs in Orange County. I parked in lower Blue Jay Campground. Tents were erected through out the grounds, but not a person stirred. It seemed also that not a creature stirred.

I took off on the same rocky trail that we took off on in Old Goat 50. The skies were cloudy. And as I descended down the mountain, I heard child screams and laughter coming from a campground above. I felt like I was making slow time, yet I felt good. I didn’t tape my arches, nor did I roll my shins beforehand. I wound down the trail and made the first point of interest (the Chiquito / San Juan intersection) in about 37 minutes. I consider 45 minutes very decent time for me. I didn’t want to care about time on this run. I wanted to enjoy. Still, I couldn’t help but celebrate a tad.

I continued on San Juan Trail, which was shady and lush, climbing up toward the Viejo Tie. Ear phones dangling around my shoulder and not in my ears, I desired complete awareness of my surroundings. The trails were desolate. I was completely alone, except for what lurked out there in the forest. I felt relieved when I hit exposed trail because I had a better grasp on my surroundings.

Memories from Old Goat flooded my mind as I ran. I recalled where I fell. I recalled when I passed, when I was passed. The Tie went by very quickly, especially compared to the first time I ran it. Still, I felt like I moved slower than I did during Old Goat. Yet, I made the Chiquito intersection in about 50 minutes (1 hour is VERY decent for me). Again, I felt accomplished. So relaxed was I, the trails’ technical difficulty didn’t throw me.

I ran in and out of shady lush forest, on overgrown single track for the next few miles. My mind wandered to all the things I needed to do (grade papers, make calls, pay bills, organize, organize, organize). I thought a lot about our dying friend. I told myself, “Don’t think! Don’t think!” I found this quite difficult. That is until I told myself to do just one thing today: call the hospice. With that one thing resolved, I was finally able to empty my mind.

The Viejo Tie (Or San Juan Trail just before the split):

The poison oak on Chiquito was unavoidable. Even though I have been immune to the plant’s poison, I’ve heard that immunity doesn’t last forever. I’ve run through the stuff head-to-toe before with no consequences (knock on wood!). This morning, I occasionally stepped aside from a bush. But then my thigh would brush against several leaves. Eventually, I realized it was useless. There was no escaping the plant.

Chiquito Trail (notice the poison oak on the forest floor):

“The Candy Store Run” is approximately twenty miles, mainly downhill from Blue Jay to The Candy Store, mainly uphill on the way back. Beginning this run at The Candy Store rather than Blue Jay, is the much easier way to go because you run the harder part on strong legs. Both ways are long. Both ways are lovely. But I wanted hard. Excruciating in fact. This is why I began on the mainly downhill for an uphill climb on tired legs.

I passed Chiquito Falls still feeling strong, feeling like I’d make The Candy Store in under 3 hours. Then a funny thing happened on the way to the store. I saw another person running up from the other way. He wore all black, just as I did. He didn’t startle me. I could distinguish that he was a trail runner by the two handhelds. But who?

Why, this other runner was my friend John H.!! I laughed out loud. I mean, what are the chances that I’d come across someone I know? We stopped and chatted for a good amount of time, laughing over the things we put our trucks through and how we both stash water in the mountains. We talked about Old Goat (John was a sweeper who swept my friend, Emmett). As we chatted, he helped put my mind at ease over finishing a fifty miler. John seems quite “laid back” about running, whereas I tend to tense up. Anyway, I didn’t worry about making The Candy Store in under 3 hours anymore. It’s not often I get to talk trails and laugh out in the middle of nowhere with a friend.

But then, I was off running again; John was off running again as well, in opposite directions.

Out portion of the run, it’s still cool enough for my long sleeves:

Views of The Cleveland National Forest on my way down:

A quick glimpse of the many spring flowers along the way:

Toward the end of the out portion, I came upon a couple hiking groups. One man looked at me as though I was crazy. Another gasped, “Running?” At the giant fallen tree, decomposing for years, I began my climb up to the parking lot. The sun was out in vengeance. The climb was difficult. I finally ran into the parking lot in over three hours. Across the street, The Candy Store was probably still closed (unless they sell donuts for breakfast). I didn’t run across the highway to check, though I do love candy. Instead, I ran over to my water stash in the brush. After refilling, I set out for the return trip beneath an unrelenting sun.

Running back on the San Juan Loop, toward Chiquito Trail for the climb up:

It came as no surprise that the climb back out toward Chiquito Falls was miserable. But it was a lovely miserable. I climbed over boulders. I ran the uphills in the shade. Sometimes on exposed trails, I hiked. I passed more hikers, some in small groups, some with walking sticks.

Excruciating is a great word for the back portion of this run. Much of it, before Chiquito Falls, is exposed, hot and rocky. Tiny gnats swarmed my face. But despite this, I still felt good. No major aches or pains. At one point, about half way, I heard the pounding of fast running. Disoriented some, I was startled, thinking someone was running up on me from behind. Turns out, it was John. He wasn’t behind me. He was in front of me. We spoke briefly as I stumbled up the boulders. Except for the last climb up to the parking lot, he had mainly downhill to look forward to, whereas I was looking at several more uphill miles. Doh!

A big rock on Chiquito:

A simple view of the climb out:

Sleeves off, it’s now HOT, and I’m greatly looking forward to San Juan Trail because that means I’ve only got a few miles to go:

I came upon cyclists on the way out. I gave directions to a father and son. I could have cut the course short on a few occasions. But I decided to sweat it out. A cool breeze blew through the trees. And though I felt fatigued, and pretty miserable, it was the good kind of miserable. Seriously. There is a good kind of miserable – it’s the kind of miserable when a difficult, yet gorgeous run is nearly over.

Today’s elevation profile:

From above:

The Road to The Top of the World

2013-05-16T22:21:00.001-07:00

This morning I took another journey to Top of the World in Laguna Beach. How many times have I made that trip? I can’t say. I can say that it’s never terrible, even the hardest portions. And the prize is such a delight – a grand view of the Pacific Ocean, The Saddleback Mountains and The San Gabriels.

This morning the weather was cool and gray, even slightly damp. I came upon several hikers on West Ridge, some cyclists and countless bluish lizards doing push-ups in the dirt. The road to Top of the World is never boring. Today, I was practically in a trance when I noticed that what I thought was a branch sticking out of the dirt was really a gopher. At times deer roam the road. Once I saw a bobcat run across it. Several rattlers have made themselves known to me on the way to Top of the World. But, not today. The weather was just too cool for rattlers to stretch out across the road. Sometimes I reach the top and there’s so many people, it’s like a party. Today, I was the only person. And that is sometimes a joy. Like it was today.

The Road to Top of the World:

Made it!

Thirteen Miles of HOT, Joyful HOT

2013-05-15T21:38:00.001-07:00

I couldn’t believe the large number of cars parked at Aliso Wood Canyons this morning. Yet, in over thirteen miles of trails, I saw only three or four other people. Where were all the others? Perhaps they were picnicking in the meadows. I don’t think so. The meadows have now turned brown. Maybe they were breaking the rules and going off trail. Nah. I think most of the visitors found a good spot of shade. It was HOT today. A lovely, dry hot. But then, every so often I was awarded a nice cool breeze. Beautiful.

Stretching ever-so-slightly tight calves and shins about two miles in:

A long, lonely path through the meadow on my way to the big Climb:

The Big Climb:

Top of the World:

Wood Canyon:

The Profile:

Into the Wild / Limestone Canyon 20k

2013-05-11T21:20:00.001-07:00

Recently, I decided I need to run a short race. Short? What I mean is, a race that’s shorter than I’ve run lately. I don’t think “short” means easier. The race I picked in fact has a great deal of elevation gain for the number of miles. I thought “short” would help me pick up my pace. I also wanted a race that I could actually finish. After a quick search, I read that Limestone Canyon 20K didn’t “technically” have a time limit. Into the Wild even posted something like, “you will have ample time, even if you have to walk.” Well, this was my race!!

Limestone Canyon is a protected area in the Santa Ana Mountains that we can only gain access through the Irvine Conservancy, or through special events. I’ve run Limestone Canyon before, with a docent from the Irvine Conservancy. So, I knew the trails were no walk in the park. This was my first Into the Wild race.

Into the Wild put on two events today: a 12k and a 20k. When I learned that the vast majority of the runners were running the 12k, and only a handful were running the 20k (37 runners according to the results page), I knew I was going to be running by myself, perhaps coming in DFL. I’m already a back of the pack runner on the trails. You put me in a race with hundreds or thousands of runners, I can come in around the middle of the field. A race with around a hundred, or even worse, less than 50, I’m going to struggle handing off the honorable DFL.

I’ll tell you one thing for sure. Those 20k runners, they kicked ass! My marathon plus pace CANNOT keep up with these runners. They take off fast. And they don’t seem to slow down.

We took off on fire road and quickly made it to a single track and a steep uphill, and then more steep uphills. The trail was exposed and quite warm. I felt okay, happy to be on the run. Shins felt good. Arches taped, my feet felt strong. I remained with a crowd for some miles, actually up until the 12k runners split from us 20kers (around mile 4.5). At that point, one woman ran a short ways ahead, and past her I could see another woman. With all the twists and turns in the trails, I couldn’t see any other runners for quite some time.

Traffic Jam:

The field spreads out:

Finally, after about 6 miles, I headed down. For a bit, the trail was technical, single track. But then it turned to gorgeous fire road in and out of trees with lush canopies. Occasionally, I spotted two runners off ahead. But I was never close to catching them. I resolved to keep running strong. But I also resolved that I would be taking the honorable DFL.

And then the trail began to climb slightly. Through the trees, I could see one runner up a ways. She was hiking the slight inclines, but she was still far enough away that I couldn’t catch her. Onward I ran in the sweltering heat through the lovely valleys.

Approaching Aid #2:

Then I lost her, the other runner. I always lost her on the downhills. But then we began a climb at about mile 8.5. Suddenly the woman appeared not too far ahead of me. She was actually within reaching distance. As she hiked up that climb I gave it all I had and RAN up the hill. I tried to run quietly so that she wouldn’t realize that I was gaining on her. It took me a good half mile to come up directly behind her. Just when I could have collapsed, I passed her and handed off the honorable DFL, at least for now.

She smiled and said, “Hi!” I smiled as well, then commented awkwardly about the scorching heat. With a downhill quickly approaching, I knew that I needed to gun it to keep my lead. Strategic thoughts ran through my head on how to keep this lead for 3 1/2 miles. Don’t look back, I told myself. Don’t let up!

I did look back. She was no where in sight. I knew though, I could not let up. If I was going to stay away from the honorable DFL, I had to push hard. If not, I was certain that she would pass me on the downhill.

Well, I broke my rule about looking back, and looked back frequently. Occasionally, she gained on me. And I pushed onward as quickly as I could, even though I felt I couldn’t take another step. I began to think that it would have been better to pass her with only a mile left. Keeping the lead for 3 1/2 miles was almost too much to bear. I couldn’t let up for 3 1/2 miles!!!!! I told myself that if this is her usual distance, then I’ve got her. I can put up with pure hell misery running for hours and hours. This was my only advantage. Speed was not my advantage. Endurance was. I kept running, while she hiked the uphills and flats. How do I know this? BECAUSE I KEPT LOOKING BACK!

As I approached Aid #3, I saw another female runner sitting in the shade. As soon as she saw me, she stood and ran onward in a rush. I could see another runner, a male, not too far ahead of her. I ran straight past Aid #3 without stopping. And I believe the woman behind me did the same. She was gaining on me!!!

I constantly looked at my garmin. I was so fatigued, I needed badly to let up (that is take it easy for a bit). Finally, in the last half mile, I looked back and didn’t see my pursuer. Still, I didn’t trust that. I gunned it in to the finish line, placing 36 out of 37 runners.

Mama Mia! I think “short” runs are much harder than the long distances.

Though I hung around a bit at the staging area, I didn’t see the woman who came in behind me. We must have been parked in different lots. I would have liked to throw her a smile and thank her for a dang hard run race.

As far as Into the Wild as a race event goes, I do recommend them. The race directors, husband and wife, are friendly and organized. They supplied plenty of fuel and fluids. I also got a nice shirt and even a finisher’s medal. My only critique is that their aid stations were not evenly spaced. Aid number 3 was only about a mile away from the finish. Most of the runners (oddly) did not carry water. They definitely would have needed water before the last aid. I think in a 20k, aid should be as close as possible to every 5 kilometers.

Oh! One more thing. I placed first in my category (gender/age) group! Muhahahaha.

Sporadic Running

2013-05-09T22:14:00.001-07:00

Miles have been so sporadic lately. It makes me nervous. This shouldn’t make me nervous. Why? The answer lies in why I run. I run because I love an adventure; I love running trails; I love to sweat. So, why does sporadic miles make me nervous? It’s because I fear that I will somehow fall ridiculously out of shape, that I won’t be able to run for fun. (Remember there was a time when I couldn’t run a neighborhood block, a time when I couldn’t even sit an hour without a cigarette). But now, after at least 15 years of not smoking, and some years of running, running and learning, I CAN FUN FOR FUN. I can! (Just as long as I run a couple times a week.).

THIS WEEK, we have had only ONE car. Yes, I mentioned my truck is making a loud noise. But my truck is still running (and I’m praying that I get it to the shop before it stops running). Meanwhile, hubby’s car konked out this week. Konked out as in, died. Would not turn over, etc. This of course, made running trails impossible. I’ve also had that nasty computer crash, which means I haven’t tallied my actual miles or elevation gain. But all that has been moot. It’s really moot. We have a friend in hospice care right now, which is most on my mind at the moment. I haven’t visited him, yet I left an awkward voicemail on his phone. We are all heart-broken in our home right now. Yet, we don’t show it so much. As most in the human race, we try to cover.

I’ve also got senior high school students struggling to finish credit recovery in time to finish for graduation (a mere 4 weeks away!!). All this is life. It’s no harder or easier than others. It’s just my life. And like most, I think, I’ve got countless neglected aspirations and necessities to boot as well. {I have to take something back. I believe lots of people have a harder life than I do}

Good news is, as of this evening (Thursday) we have two working cars. Yay!

Before I knew that, I was able to steal our one car away and squeeze in a “short” trail run to The Top of the World in Laguna Beach this morning. Miles totaled 6.5. I fared pretty dang decently, especially with the extra weight I’ve put on, and the sporadic miles I’ve been running. Best of all, I enjoyed myself. I enjoyed the moment. I enjoyed my life. I enjoyed this glorious earth . . . Yes, it’s true. Really . . . this is what running can do.

Prickly Pear are in bloom! Fabulous.

Headed toward Top of the World:

Yup, this is it, Top of the World, a view of the Pacific Ocean from Laguna Beach, California:

Miles and elevation gained on this delightful morning:

Trail Box Launch / Review

2013-05-08T11:25:00.001-07:00

When I was a child I traveled to Seattle with my parents. Several of the stores had “grab bags” for sale. I got to pick out a brown paper bag with no idea what was inside. These were always filled with fun little goodies, toys and such. Great fun! It’s a fond childhood memory. Well, I recently learned that there’s something quite similar for trail running. At Trail-box.com you can purchase a box a month with trail running tools / essentials. (The deal for their launch is that you pay $1 for the first month, $10 for the second month. That’s $11 for 2 months, and you buy when you want. No obligation to purchase every month). When Trail Box contacted me with an offer to try out their box I jumped at the chance. The idea brought back those fond memories of Seattle.

Very quickly I received a plain wrapped package with a box inside, just like the one below (picture taken from their facebook page):

This is what I received: Trailwind Endurance Fuel (Mandarin Orange powder shake with 4 servings), 1 Energy Electro Delytes Citrus Bar, 2 OnTheGo “towels for men” (for the private parts rashing situations), 2 Tecnu samples and coupon (medicated poison ivy scrub), and lastly, a sturdy plastic, sealable Tecnu pouch.

Well, that pouch made this trail box well worth it for me! I immediately thought that it was a perfect map holder. Do you recall the time I got lost on Texas trails? I pulled out my map to find it disintegrated from my sweat. This pouch would have come in very handy then. It can basically hold any small item, like a phone, that needs moisture protection. And it has an adjustable cord to conveniently carry or attach if you don’t just shove it into your pack like I will.

The Tecno cream and OnTheGo towels I will not personally use. So far, I have been immune to poison oak, but it’s small enough that I can put it in my pack for someone else to use. And the OnTheGo towels, I’ll keep those on me as well. I have run with several males who could have used these (probably more that I know, because some guys don’t really talk about this need to female runners).

Lastly, the big surprise for me was the Electro Delytes Energy bar. It was absolutely DELICIOUS. I’m just just saying that. I truly found it delightful, like a lemony desert. I’m not one to try new energy bars because I have my usuals. Now, I’ve added another to my list of regulars.

I think Trail Box is a fun and inexpensive idea. It goes with the adventurer in me that’s always looking forward to a surprise. The best part was the variety, enclosing items that cover an array of trail running needs.

Thanks Trail Box for letting me sample!

At Last!

2013-05-05T22:02:00.001-07:00

I have been sick over the past week. At the same time, I’ve been working more hours than ever (well, not really ever, but more than in a long time). While I wasn’t working I slept. And when I was working, I was hopped up on “severe cold” medicine. It tasted like brandy. Yucky. To make matters worse, I couldn’t run. I was just too ill. And that depressed me.

Yesterday, I received terribly bad news about a friend. My heart was broken. I needed to run. Instead, I slept and slept.

Then yesterday, my computer also crashed. This time for good. My truck then began running with an unusual, disturbing noise. Yet, the computer and car news are nothing compared to our friend’s. They are only things. People. That’s what is important. Friends and family. Oh, and trail running.

This morning, it was time. I felt well for more than 18 hours. It was time to run. I woke easily at 4:30 AM, drove under darkness at 5:15 AM into the lovely canyon town called Silverado. Only two other cars were parked at the Maple Springs trailhead. But I saw no one.

I wondered how I’d handle running uphill for 7.5 miles after an entire week off from running. I thought it might find it brutally difficult. Surprisingly, I simply took off running in the cool misty morning, as if nothing was amiss. Birds sang and chirped so loudly, I thought it sounded like a jungle. Purple lupin were in full bloom. So were an array of different yellow, red and violet flowers.

Running the first few miles of paved uphill on Maple Springs Road:

I warmed up right away, but didn’t want to stop to unlayer until I reached a good stopping place – something with a good lookout and a spot to set my camera for shots. I actually have a specific stopping point on Maple Springs. It’s at about mile four. I don’t like to stop too much because taking off and putting back on the pack takes too much time. When I finally reached that point, I set the camera on timed release for a quick show of the process. (Yes, I’m silly like that)

Ready to roll:

As I ran the remainder of Maple Springs, I took in awesome beauty. At the same time, my mind began to roam. I sobbed once for our friend. Then I forced myself not to think. When anything passed my mind, I forcefully told myself, “DO NOT THINK. ENJOY THE MOMENT.”

I spotted a deer up ahead on the way up. She hopped away like a bunny. I saw another on the way down. May have been the same doe. She hopped away like a bunny as well. I didn’t see a single person on my way up. At “Four Corners” where I fully expect to find cyclists and runners, I was completely alone. It was glorious. The air was wet. The mist was so thick I couldn’t even see Modjeska Peak which was a mere mile away.

A view (or non-view) of Modjeska Peak from “Four Corners.”

A quick stop at “Four Corners” before heading down:

Going down:

So glad to run today. So, so glad

Miles run: 15.59 (25.09k) Elevation gain: 4,223’ (1,287.2m)

On the Road Again . . .

2013-04-27T21:10:00.001-07:00

Yesterday (Friday) a day off from my regular job, I would have spent resting, or running. But, I took a substitute assignment for K-2nd grade special education children. I’ve subbed this class before. I know the children. They are precious. Just like all children, they are a “handful.” I returned home more tired than if I had run for 6.5 hours instead of subbed. I mean, I WAS WIPED OUT. How can that be? How can working with children for a day tire me more than running for a day.

Still, I packed my gear, set out my shoes and clothes for a 14 mile mountain run this morning. Then I walked outdoors barefoot. You’d think I would know better. We have these trees, in fact three of them, called Tristania Conferta. They are lovely evergreens with yellowish flower clusters. Its fruit is a woody capsule, a pointy, sharp, hard, woody capsule. These litter our front and back yards. My husband wants to get rid of the trees but hasn’t due to my protests. I think they are beautiful. But those woody fruit capsules have taken me down many a time. They hurt! Well, I stepped on one last night. As I sensed my foot come down on the point, I wiggled my body in some crazy contorted way, such that I pulled my inner thigh muscle. I walked around the remainder of the night, kind of dragging my left leg, hunched forward like the Hunchback of Notre Dame.

To cut an already too long story short, I woke at 4:00 AM, made a two cup pot of coffee, sat on the couch, then decided I could never do this. I couldn’t get myself out to the car and drive to the mountains for a run. I was much too tired, and my inner thigh still wasn’t quite right. So, I fell back asleep, this time on the couch.

This does not mean that I didn’t run today. I decided to cut today’s 14 miles in two. I decided to run what I could this afternoon, then run my planned day off (Sunday) the remainder of the 14 miles.

At 1 PM, I set out the door for a road run. Yes, a road run! Two whole miles passed before my shins felt painless. Good news though, my inner thigh felt good from the start. I came upon dozens of runners, walkers and cyclists, most smiling or nodding a recognition or “hello.” I felt out-of-shape for most of the run, perhaps because I’m so tired, perhaps because I’m not in tip-top condition. And I also came to recall the many differences between the road and the trail. First off, there are cars on the road – lots of them. Secondly, stop lights dictate when I can go and when I must stop. Thirdly, people smoke cigarettes in town and at the beach. I pretty close to never smell cigarettes on the trails. Fourthly, children and adults alike, meander back and forth along the sidewalk or road, and without notice step right in front of me. Also, I run past poor homeless souls who have manufactured make-shift homes out of umbrellas and towels. And on another note, no dirt bikes blow dirt into my face as they race by on the road. There are no dirt bikes and there is no dirt on the road. There are also a multitude of drinking fountains during a road run. I don’t even need to carry a handheld (but I do). Okay, that’s enough of that. I could go on and on, but it’s close to bed time. (I’m an early to bed, early to rise gal.)

In all, I managed a tad over 7 miles this afternoon.

Where is the local campground? Look for the flags . . . I want one of these! Imagine all the different trails I could run. An unlikely, yet interesting, Laurenontherun elevation profile (The question is, how did I get 80 feet below sea level? Must have been while running behind the jetty):

Back-to-Back-to-Back

2013-04-25T21:00:00.001-07:00

This morning I was back to Aliso/Wood Canyons for my back-to-back-to-back run. Yes, that’s three days in a row. Seems like I’m starting to feel like my old self. I’m sleeping better. I feel more rested in the morning. Definitely good reasons to force this groove on!

The skies were gray when I first set out through Aliso Canyon. A couple runners traversed the trails, as did some hikers. When a hiker up a ways stopped in her tracks, I thought for sure she had come across a rattle snake. But she pointed out a coyote standing in the golden swaying grass. I told her that coyotes are usually timid around us humans (as I recalled the one who chased my friend Hank!). Then I ran past the coyote, as the young lady gasped, obviously thinking I was crazy. I turned back and told her that I had pepper spray to make her feel better. I knew the animal would turn off and run away as soon as I got within 30 feet of him. And that he did.

I also saw three or four deer through the trees on Coyote Run. I climbed the exasperating Mentally Sensitive. I admired the deep blue sea and I did some bushwhacking. What a wonderful, cool morning on the trails!

Back-to-Back

2013-04-24T20:28:00.001-07:00

I can’t recall the last time I ran back-to-back days – that is BEFORE TODAY. With my mood lately, you’d think I would have used the heavily drizzling weather to zonk the back-to-back notion. But I headed out anyway, arches taped, shins rolled. And I took off running into Wood Canyon beneath gray, lovely wet skies.

I came upon no other runners on my way to Top of the World. But after running up Cholla Trail I came upon several small hiking groups making their way along the ridge. They were bundled up, looking cuddly and warm. And I wore shorts. My long sleeve provided little warmth, however, I warmed up pretty quickly myself running the ridge’s rolling hills.

I ran today simply for the sake of running. I’m merely getting back my groove, no pace pressure, no mileage requirements. I do admit though, I’m still hoping to make Mt. Everest’s elevation this month. It’ll be a tough task, one that will require that I keep my onward momentum going.

Though I was cold and debated doing a 1.5 mile out, then back, I have to call this morning’s run a success. My shins felt great. I enjoyed myself. And best of all, I got my first back-to-back in a long, long time.

Miles run: 6.47

Meadows / Rock It Lollipop Loops

2013-04-23T20:29:00.001-07:00

I just love those lollipop loops. Wrote it before, I’ll write it again: I’m a loopy girl.

With limited time this morning, I thought I’d squeeze in a double digit run on my journey out of the rut.

The sun was hot, the breeze was cool. Bluish squished lizards decorated the single tracks. How does that happen? I thought. I’ve never stepped on a lizard in my life. I don’t think I could if I tried – not unless I hosed it down with water first. Then I remembered the bikes. Yes . . . the lovely bikes.

My shins ached for the first 1.5 miles. Stretching didn’t help the pain. Only when I began running uphill did the shins feel good. Then they felt fine the remainder of the run.

It felt good to run solo in the lonely wilderness. I relished the time alone. This morning I got 11.59 miles of alone time. Then it was back off to the grind, already looking forward to tomorrow’s run.

Running up Meadows’ switchbacks:

My “Everything’s Gonna Be Alright Bridge,” on Meadows. Once I cross this bridge the switchbacks stretch out, and the ascent lessens some, and I feel much better about running the entire thing.

Top of Meadows:

But there’s still a tad more to climb:

Running down Rock It:

Coyote Run:

Crossing over Mathis Trail to meet up with Wood Canyon:

Mentally Sensitive / Meadows Lollipop Loop

2013-04-19T21:26:00.001-07:00

I went for a “short” lollipop loop trail run late this morning. It was a doozy!

I put the word “short” in quotes, because distance perception is relative. For quite some time, 7 miles was my long run. I would hate to insult anyone by calling a 7 mile run a short run, when it really isn’t “short.” It’s only “short” compared to what I’m used to over the past few years. But 7 miles is by no means “short.” Drive the distance, and you’ll see for sure. Then add to the 7 miles a climb up a trail called Mentally Sensitive and a run down a switchback called Meadows, and you’ve got one doozy of a run!

The weather was warm late this morning, 84 F degrees! Sweating it out beneath a hot sun brought back some delightfully miserable memories of mountain training during the summer (Woot! Looking forward to that. Time to get ready!!)

Running a deceitful Meadows Trail:

My calves were tight again, and my shins ached for approximately the first 1 1/2 miles. Time to google “shin splints,” though I don’t know how I would get shin splints since I’m running so little lately.

Climbing Mentally Sensitive was pure hellish fun. Seriously. I stopped to rest TWICE. . . on a 7 mile run! I made it to the top though. And I still felt accomplished.

Going up . . .

Finally at the top, overlooking the grand Pacific:

Going down . . .

Rut Update

2013-04-17T18:56:00.001-07:00

The thing I hate about digging myself out of a rut is digging my myself out of a rut. The second thing I hate about digging myself out of a rut is that no one else can do it for me. I have to do it myself. Being that I am quite the procrastinator, I have been only half-assed trying to dig myself out of this rut. I feel like blah, like doing nothing. Instead of running (like I planned) after dropping our boys off at school, I returned home and slept on the couch until 11:30 AM!!! Then I merely sat and surfed the net an hour before heading off to work. (Oh, I did wash some dishes by hand).

Now, it’s not like if I didn’t run I didn’t have anything to do. I have LOTS to do. I just don’t feel like doing anything. This is not my “normal.” Though I am a procrastinator, I am definitely a doer. So, what the heck?

That’s my rut update. My current goal is not to run such and such miles. It’s simply to get out of this rut. I’ve got to climb through that hole to the sunshine on the other side.

Wish me luck.

Image courtesy of satit_srihin at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Sorry, but I can’t contain myself . . .

2013-04-16T20:44:00.001-07:00

Our middle son home sick from school yesterday, it seemed I heard about the Boston Marathon bombing as it happened. I wasn’t watching the news. I don’t watch the news because I don’t appreciate sensationalism. I learned of the terrorist act through the running community – though we are large, we are small and word travels quickly.

I felt that I couldn’t write today’s blog entry without mentioning the tragedy. What can be said that hasn’t already been said? I can write nothing that can ease any pain or make any sense of yesterday’s event. The bombing was a terrible, cowardly act. It preoccupied my thoughts during my entire run this morning. I clenched my teeth. I cracked my jaw. And this is what I thought: I know it’s popular to feel disdain for my country. But we are among the greatest countries in the world. We are not a perfect nation. But we strive to be better. Sure we are a materialistic society, sure we have problems. None of those problems however are as evil as a terrorist act hurled upon innocent children and civilians. Attack us from inside or out, and we grow stronger, make no mistake about that. This is our nature. Darkness may strike some blows, but it will never win against the light!

My heart goes out to the suffering families and those friends and families of the deceased. I dedicated this run to you, those who died, those who suffer, and those who helped others during yesterday’s attack at the Boston Marathon’s finish line.

Flowers for the wounded and dead:

A tranquil path:

More flowers in remembrance:

I felt like I shouldn’t be smiling. Though terrorists can cause tears and despair, they can’t wipe out the smiles that eventually return:

The mustard seed:

4-15-13:

Return To The Scene Of Defeat

2013-04-13T19:46:00.001-07:00

Well, it’s been 3 weeks since my defeat. I’ve been taking it easy, sulking, catching up on errands, trying to get back my run groove. I’ve resorted to trickery to get my feet moving (see last post). This morning, I relied on my hubby to kick my behind if he found me sleeping on the couch AGAIN when he awoke. (The pattern has been, wake early to run, hit the snooze, walk out to the living room, fall asleep on the couch.)

It sure took me a long time to get out the door this morning. I wasn’t looking forward to returning to the scene of defeat – Trabuco Canyon. I just had to FORCE it. So, I got in my truck and drove mindlessly toward the Saddleback Mountains.

If you live in Southern California you probably know that Trabuco Canyon is the same canyon that the two teenaged hikers were recently lost for 4 days. The media spread “my” canyon all over the airwaves, naming trails, etc., for four days. Thankfully, the two kids were safely found. I suspect they learned lots of lessons. Many that I have learned myself, but have been fortunate enough not to cause a 4 day “man hunt,” utilizing hundreds of volunteers, several helicopters, medics, etc.

Anyway, I finally arrived to the Holy Jim lot around 8 AM. Two runners and several cyclists stood around talking about the lost hikers. They had their theories, mine was similar (I’ll leave out my theory as to what happened, unless I hear later that it’s the case).

Taking off towards the Holy Jim Trailhead:

Though my calves felt tight at first, I found Holy Jim delightful. It was not the same beast that kicked my butt during Old Goat. This Holy Jim was cool, scenic and gave me strength. I ran with plenty of calories stashed in my pockets and plenty of fluids to drink until I arrived at the secret stash several miles away.

I ran up that switchback with four other ladies who had not run Holy Jim before. So, when the lady behind me tried to catch me, I had the advantage being that I know how to pace myself on this trail. In the end I passed the front runner of the group, only because she turned her ankle. I stopped briefly to talk with her, then whizzed my way up to Bear Springs.

Hallelujah! Me and Holy Jim are friends again.

Holy Jim:

While the four ladies headed off toward Santiago Peak, I took the Main Divide for an up and down, up and down run toward West Horsethief. The sun came out strong, yet I was lucky to have an occasional cool breeze. I felt very fortunate to have these gifts today – I can still run mountain trails, I know my way around these mountains, and I enjoy the “harsh” beauty.

Several jeeps drove past me as I ran the Main Divide. I even came upon two more female runners. I began to remember that I love trail running.

From the Main Divide:

What a delight to make the top of West Horsethief. I stopped for a quick photo op, then happily, joyfully made my way down that steep, rocky switchback. I slid a few times, tripped once, and even fell back lightly once. The trail seemed longer than I remembered. But then again, it always does. And I thought, as I always do, that it must be more difficult running down Horsethief than running up it. Toward the bottom, I came upon two hikers. I rarely come upon anyone on Horsethief. These two were sitting in the shade probably saying, “What the heck were we thinking?”

Top of West Horsethief:

West Horsethief:

I finished this 14+ mile loop at a packed Holy Jim parking lot. A line of cars backed-up on Trabuco Canyon Road trying to get in the lot Not a place remained to park. Drivers were eager to catch my eye to ask if I was leaving. I only put in a quick stretch before giving up my space. The drive out was a little odd, no not a little. It was very odd. Every available space to park along the canyon road was crowded with cars. Countless hikers made their way in, and at some points were the road was tight, a literal line of cars waited to make their way through. I have never seen Trabuco Canyon so crowded. I found this a little annoying – were these visitors there to see the sight of a near tragedy (the lost teenagers) or were they genuinely interested in this beautiful place that the media referred to again and again as rugged, harsh and dangerous?

I suspect the crowds will die down. If not, there are plenty of canyons where I can access Saddleback Mountains.

The main thing is: Today I returned to the scene of defeat. AND I remembered that I love trail running. This is not to say that I totally have my groove back. But it’s a start. A dang good start.

Back to Business

2013-04-11T19:41:00.001-07:00

It’s time to call this rut official. Every morning I set my alarm to get in an early trail run. Every morning, I hit the snooze and go back to sleep. Now this week is spring break. I’m off work, the boys are home from school. The only reason I have to rise early is to run. That hasn’t been reason enough!

Rarely do I need a push out the door to get out and run. I have felt lucky about that. Looks like my luck ran out. This rut was going to take my own pushing to get out. Not just pushing once, but perhaps repeatedly.

Today’s plan: After a family outing along East Trabuco Creek, I would run home. I packed my shoes in the back, went on a little hike and hunt for pollywogs with family and friends. Then as everyone drove home I taped up my right arch because my heel has been aching. Then I laced up my shoes for a short run home. I was SOOOO close to saying, “Just drive me home and I’ll run around the neighborhood.” But I stopped myself, because I knew that I wouldn’t run around the neighborhood. I needed to be forced to run. That’s why I let hubby drive off. With no ride home and a pair of running shoes upon my feet, I had no choice. I ran.

I can’t say how I felt at first. I didn’t think much. I can say that I wasn’t enjoying myself. My shins slightly ached. I stopped to stretch. A solemn enjoyment finally hit me at two miles in, just as I crossed the bridge over E. Trabuco Creek, for a run along the bike path (the “River Walk” back toward home.)

I can tell there’s going to be a little more forcing and trickery going on before I’m totally back in the grove. Feels a little like I’m starting over (but not really, because when I first began, I couldn’t even run a neighborhood block!)

Miles run: 5

Running through a city park along the train tracks:

Passing the petting zoo (look at those teeth!!):

The bridge over E. Trabuco Creek (many people think this is San Juan Creek, but it’s not. This creek joins San Juan Creek in less than a 10th of a mile from here):

Hashtravaganza 6

2013-04-07T23:21:00.001-07:00

Saturday, I went for something much different than my status quo trails. I ran my first Hash Run. I learned about the Hash House Harriers several years ago. I was told that they were “drinkers with a running problem.” Sounded interesting, but years passed and I never “hashed.” It seemed to me that beer and running didn’t mix. With all the falling and tripping I do on the trails sober, how would I run after some beers?

My friend Emmett Rahl invited me to The Hashtravaganza located on Orange County Trails. I thought it was a good opportunity to end my mourning over Old Goat. It was time for some play in the wilderness and to chuck the seriousness. First things first, I decided to take a bus to the event. I metabolize alcohol very slowly, which means if I get pulled over, even after a small amount of alcohol, I will probably blow over the legal limit. That’s just not a chance I don’t want to take. Call me paranoid. Besides, I love riding the bus!

My stop was 2.5 miles from the run start. At the start, the entire group, including organizers and workers take off. It’s a moving sort of run. This of course means that I HAD TO make it in time for the start. Somehow, someway, I got turned around and ran 2.5 miles in the OPPOSITE DIRECTION. This of course meant that I had 5 miles now to run, and only about 30 minutes to do it. DOH!

So I took off running with no hopes of making it in time, but really wanting to make the start, so I did the unthinkable. I stuck my thumb out. Yes, I tried to hitch a ride. Much to my disappointment, car after car after car whizzed by ignoring my request. Finally, after about 2 miles on the return 5 mile trip, a mini-truck pulled over. The driver was a male named Abraham, the passenger squeezed in the back seat was male as well. I hopped in the car with a quick back-up plan conjured up on the spot. I left my door unlocked, with an eye on it to make sure the driver didn’t lock it. I also didn’t seat belt, so I could have quick access out of the car if need be. Hitch-hiking is not recommended behavior, especially for females. Needless to say, hubby was not happy (he actually called me when I was in Abraham’s car). I am pleased to report that the driver was rather nice and drove me all the way to my destination, about a mile past his turnoff. He told me that his car broke down last week, and he tried to thumb a ride, and no one picked him up. That’s why he pulled over to give me a ride.

I made it to the Hash in time to have a small breakfast (they had a great “continental” spread) and a beer. 100+ drinkers with a running problems were in a festive mood. Each had a plastic mug hanging somewhere on their attire, hooked to their backpack, etc. I hooked a plastic mug given to me by Emmett onto my running belt.

The day was too long, with too many separate adventures to detail it here without writing a book. I will try and make it brief, by starting with how Hash Runs work (or at least these Hash Runs – Hash Runs are run all over the world, so they probably vary).

Saturday, we had 5 separate hash runs, I say “runs” and not races, because they are not races. Anyone caught running competitively gets loudly declared a “racist.” Each run started off with a couple “hares” who took off first with bags of flour to mark trails. The rest of us, the “hounds,” waited fifteen minutes and then ran off after the “hares.” Quickly into the run, there’s a “T” for Turkeys for the easier route, and an “E” for Eagles, for the hardest route. I took the “E” at each occasion.

Some of the flour markings lead off onto “false” trails. So, we listened to the whistle wearing “hounds. They blew twice when we were “on trail,” and once once for “off trail.” Often people yelled out, “Are we on?” or “On on?”

During the course, we also saw the marking BN which means “beer near.” Here we “hounds” stopped for a beer. There were also whiskey stops along the way, where runners took shots of Jack Daniels or Honey Jack. (I steered clear of the shots being that I am not a liquor drinker, liquor referring to the “hard stuff.”)

Something very interesting about Hash Runs, is that runners are allowed to cut the course. Cutting the course is taking short cuts, some small, like skipping the corner and running through a field to catch the course up a ways. Cutting the course under regular circumstances is a big No-No. In all the “races” that I have run, I have never cut the course, though I have seen runners do it (though very few). The first time I cut the course on Saturday was very liberating. I must have cut the course 5 more times after that. (With glee I might add).

After the first Hash Run (remember we had 5), all the runners met up again for more beer, snacks, awards, and drinking songs. Everyone had smiles and there was lots of laughter. Sometimes the “hares” were booed for making such a difficult trail. The person voted to have done the stupidest thing on the run was awarded a toilet plunger to carry with him/her for the entire next Hash Run. One more thing: When a “hound” catches a “hare,” it’s called a “Hare Snare,” and all the “hounds” have to wait fifteen minutes before taking off again (so that the hares can get out far enough).

The end of Hash Run #1

I was amazed to find that running while drinking beers, quite a few of them, is not difficult at all. In fact, I burned off the buzz early into each run. And I was left with the numbness. Ended up, I ran faster. I didn’t fall; I didn’t trip. I didn’t fret the difficulty. I took on the steep hills and thick brush with pleasure and a big grin. At one point, a group of us ran into what felt like Stinging Nettle. That stuff with it’s microscopic thorns hurt like heck. I said, “Oh dang, I don’t do good with Stinging Nettle.” The runner in front of me laughed loudly. “Who does good with Stinging Nettle? That’s like saying, I don’t do good with cyanide.” Then he commenced to stand off to the side, yelling and laughing hysterically, “Make it stop! Make it stop!” Soon after, the stinging ceased. We obviously had not run into Nettle. But the “Make it stop!” guy and his friend cut the course and found themselves in a sticky situation at the bottom of a ravine. Having been stuck in a ravine before, I said, “Don’t do it.” But they didn’t listen and afterward stood on the other side yelling to runners not to cut the course there, it wasn’t worth it.

The hill behind me only looks steep

The sun came out in abundance for run #3. Fortunately, a cool breeze blew through quite frequently. We had a full spread of lunch awaiting at the end of run #3 and more beer. And then we were off again for another tough run. And more beer.

Feeling no pain:

Deciding on the plunger award after Hash Run #2:

Hash Run #3:

Beer Stop:

End of Hash Run #3, meet up for lunch:

Hash Run #4, quite strenuous (but fun):

End of Hash Run #4:

During Hash Run #5, I found myself running along the Turkey route. I don’t know how I missed the Eagle. But I did see many runners up on a higher trail. I looked for a way to get there, but only came up on barbed-wire fence. One of the runners, stepped down on a portion for me, and I carefully stepped over it. This is how all the runners were, kind and friendly, smiling and laughing.

Well, we all ran along this trail that quickly ascended. Pretty soon the flour markings ended. Yet, we continued running with some of the runners yelling “On Trail? On Trail?” No whistles were blown. Eventually, we hit a dead end and had to turn around. We all got back on the Turkey route which eventually lead to another Eagle route. I took the Eagle, cut the course to get to a meadowy tough climb. This run was the shortest of all the runs, yet it was extremely tough toward the end. I was quite relieved to end up back at the start, where there was more beer and a full course dinner being cooked up: steak, chicken, roasted veggies, a green salad with a huge choice of toppings, and of course, more beer.

After eating and joking around some, my hubby arrived to drive me home. It was a long day. I felt accomplished for handling 21+ difficult miles so well. And the above is the SHORT version of this adventure.

I will add that I woke up Sunday morning sore. All of my muscles ached. The bottom of my feet ached. I slept til noon. Then I took another nap about 4PM. Fun times, but boy did they wipe me out.

The Meadowy uphill in Hash Run #5:

I’m tired:

9 Days

2013-04-02T21:27:00.001-07:00

It’s been nine days since I’ve hit the trails. For nine days, trails were the furthest thing from my mind. I told everyone I was recovering, when actually, I was kind of sulking. I didn’t stretch. I didn’t roll. I didn’t cross-train. I knew that I would run trails again. I just needed time. I needed to take inventory. I needed nine days.

This morning, it was time. I set out for my “short” run to Top of the World in Laguna Beach. I felt better than I thought that I would. But then, my calves screamed with pain as I ran up that first steep climb, Cholla Trail. I stopped once to stretch my calves. I focused on loosening up for the rest of the climb. When I reached West Ridge, I took several minutes to stretch out my calves once again.

The remainder of my run was tranquil. Most of the time I sunk into nothingness – just running trails, and nothing more. That’s the best.

Pulled at Mile Forty-One

2013-03-24T23:14:00.001-07:00

I headed up the mountain with Emmett Rahl at 3:30 AM. With little sleep, I felt energetic, excited, trying not to think about Old Goat specifics. My first & utmost concern was making that first cutoff – The 21 mile technical “Candy Store Loop” in 6.5 hours.

Check-in:

Ready to go:

RD Steve Harvey gives race instructions:

We took off in the dark wearing headlamps. I handled the rocky terrain well, relieved I had trained on San Juan Trail. I fell twice in the dark. But they were both those amazing, what I call “ballerina” falls. These are the falls that I bounce back up with absolutely no injuries. A little ways later, I kicked an embedded rock so hard that I was sure when the sun rose, I’d see a blood soaked shoe.

I passed several people on the Viejo Tie portion of the loop. I chanted my mantras, prayed for strength. Though visibility was tough at first, I know the Viejo Tie. In training, I learned I didn’t have to go as slowly as it looked like I did. There’s landing paces, ways to maneuver the trail quickly and confidently. As I passed one group of runners, one of them yelled out to the others ahead, “Fast Runner” so that I could pass. I got a hearty laugh out of that. I don’t think anyone has EVER referred to me as “Fast Runner.” With six runners behind me, one of them at my toes, I felt happy. I arrived at Chiquita trail 12 minutes faster than my best! With the sun out and warming the earth quickly, I saw that my shoe was clean of blood. My big toe ached, but it was bearable.

My friend Robert Whited passed me on the final ascent into the “Candy Store” aid. I didn’t see many people running this portion. Those I did see, like myself, hiked a great deal of the short distance. (Not Robert though; he’s an animal.)

Somewhere in the first 11 miles, I lost my time gain and arrived to the parking lot across from The Candy Store right around my best time: 3 hours. I quickly hopped back on the trail to loop back around onto Chiquita with a great sense of urgency to finish the mainly uphill ten miles in the best time I ever had. If I did any less than my best, I would not make the cutoff.

The first five miles into the return trip were tough. But I moved forward at a good pace. Emmett Rahl caught me and then he quickly ploughed up ahead of me. My friend Kurt Erlandson also passed with encouraging words. Many people passed me, as I had taken the early start, and the regular starters were coming on strong. One guy turned back to look at me and said, “Hey! I read your blog yesterday.”

Right about the time that I felt I couldn’t move any faster, a group of 5 or so runners came up from behind as we climbed that rocky exposed terrain. The female leader passed me. Her male followers didn’t pass. I didn’t force it either. Instead, I followed her lead, picking up my pace tremendously. Focusing on her feet, I witnessed her trip a few times. I continued with my mantras and praying. And then I fell again. But amazingly, I fell sideways, directly into the mountain wall. The runner ahead hollered back asking if I was okay. Surprisingly, I was fine after pushing myself away from the dirt and keeping stride with the group. It seemed as if I didn’t miss a step.

At the Chiquita falls aid station, I met up with a large group of runners. I found Emmett, gulped down a shot of water. I said to him beneath my breath, “I’m out of here.” I needed all the head start I could get. He didn’t hear me, telling me later that he turned to look and I had disappeared.

I arrived to the first cut-off in 6:10. This was my best time by EIGHTEEN minutes. I also made the cutoff with twenty minutes to spare!! Several runners dropped out at that point. It was an easy place to drop because our cars were in the vicinity. So relieved to make the cutoff, there was no way I was dropping. Next stop, the Bear Springs Aid station by 5:00 PM.

I refilled my hydration pack, grabbed a gel, a piece of peanut butter sandwich and a couple Red Vine candies. Then I quickly took off again, this time running the single-track Falcon Trail toward the Main Divide for a huge climb up to Trabuco Trail. I hiked the Main Divide with some difficulty. But I wasn’t alone. Several other runners struggled that bastard of a rocky road. Good news is that it’s relatively short.

Aid at Trabuco was festive. They offered runners beer and didn’t let me do a thing myself. I took a few sips of beer. I gulped down Coca-Cola and ate pieces of oranges. I took off my long sleeve shirt, tied it around my waist. I applied sunscreen to my shoulders. Relief settled in with the shade of Trabuco Trail. I struggled some down the rockiest portions. At one point my feet rolled over the ground as if I were running on marbles. At about mile 25, I took off my sunglasses to take in the spectacular lush mountain scenery. I saw what looked like thousands of tiny gray flies fluttering about. Something was happening with my vision. I took in another gel, and kept the fluids flowing.

Hiking up the Main Divide toward Trabuco Trail:

When Trabuco Trail FINALLY began to level out, I could hear voices behind me. So, another runner was going to pass me. They had been passing me for hours. I wasn’t running very quickly. Actually, I was just trotting when the two came right up on me. I overheard the sweeper, Eric Kosters, talking to “headquarters,” as he approached with the last of the pack. This is what he said, “I’ve got runner #such and such, but we’ve caught up with another runner. So, I’ll be with her instead in a minute.” He wanted to know who I was, I yelled out, “121.” No, he wanted my name. I told him and he chuckled loudly and said, “Lauren!!!” We had been “talking” on Facebook in the weeks prior.

The beauty I took in on Trabuco Trail when my vision started getting “weird.”:

Well, I knew this extremely rocky, hot trail well. Though Eric was a nice guy, the last thing I wanted was him running up my rear. I took off like I’ve never run that trail. “Get as many corners behind you,” I told myself. I wanted the sweeper and other runner to turn corner after corner and not see me. I figured that way they wouldn’t try as hard. I ran that portion so quickly, I AMAZED myself. I actually passed two runners in the process, one of them, Jeff Higgins (whom I would later meet).

I was in and out of the Holy Jim aid station in probably a minute. I refilled fluids, grabbed a handful of potato chips and took off in a big hurry, away from the sweeper!!!

Two of the runners I passed on Trabuco passed me going up Holy Jim, one of them the young man who was previously with the sweeper. Eric Kosters had a new runner now, and it wasn’t me.

Climbing Holy Jim was EXCRUTIATING. I wanted to vomit and could barely move one foot in front of the other. The salt was crusted over my face so thickly that it cracked when I grimaced (or smiled ). I dreamt of the spring in the mountain wall where I would wash my face. But I didn’t count switchbacks or even think about when I would arrive. I merely climbed switchback after switchback, trying to focus on the moment. I passed a runner, and came up on the heels on another runner suffering as much as I was. His name was Mark, (he was the guy with the sweeper on Trabuco). He hadn’t climbed Holy Jim before. I tried to give him hope, talking about the downhill toward the top, and that it was going to get shady and not as steep pretty soon. I continued to pray. And I continued to dream of washing my face.

When I finally arrived at the spring, Mark was a few feet ahead with his hands on his thighs. I told him that he could wash his face if he needed, that the water was safe. I don’t think he wanted to walk those few feet back. I know I wouldn’t want to. I painstakingly squatted down to the spring, my quads aching so much, I groaned. And then I washed my face again and again. It was beautiful, truly beautiful. I have never had a better face wash in my entire life.

When I took off I passed Mark who was still resting with his hands on his thighs. I passed two other suffering runners as I made my way to the top. I kind of wished that I would vomit so that the nausea would go away. It took every thing I had to take another step. I should have taken in more calories at the aid station. I probably should have eaten a whole meal. Looking back, Holy Jim is where I lost the race.

I made the second cutoff, about a half mile past the top of Holy Jim with ten minutes to spare. I took my drop bag and didn’t do anything I had planned. I wanted to re-tape my arches, change my socks. Instead, I merely took out my Chamois Butt’r and gobbed it onto my underarms which were rubbed raw by my shirt seams.

I took a seat, my shoulders and arms aching. I couldn’t think. I didn’t know what to do. A few runners who had dropped were sitting in chairs beneath the easy-up. They looked relaxed, yet defeated. The aid workers, so friendly, re-filled my hydration pack. They wouldn’t allow me to do anything myself. Aid worker, Cris Francisco, was a life saver for me right then. He massaged my shoulders and my upper back. It was very painful, but he got out the twisted knots beneath my skin. He travelled back and forth between runners putting wet paper towels on their necks. And he poured water down my back. The bad thing was, I had taken a seat. And I continued to sit. Finally, Cris said, “Lauren, come on! You’ve got to get moving.” So, I was up quickly, asking what I should eat that wouldn’t come right back up. Upon Cris’s suggestion, I took a handful of pretzels and headed up the Main Divide, destination: Santiago Peak.

The continuing two mile climb was miserable. Pure hell. I chatted with runners traveling down from the peak, one of them Kurt Erlandson. He looked strong. Many of the runners coming down assured me that I would feel much better when I reached the peak. I ate my pretzels slowly and I hiked slowly. It felt like the peak would never arrive. One foot in front of the other. I made the cut-off, I would make the peak. Nearing the top, Emmet came down looking refreshed. He told me about the chicken soup at the top. Just about fifty yards from the aid, I saw Mark again, who had passed me at the last aid.

I met Scott Barnes, an extremely encouraging “elite” runner along with Deborah Acosta at Santiago Peak. A beautiful site! It was nice to see two friendly smiling faces. Deborah refilled my pack, she gave me some delicious chicken noodle soup (again, strangely, the best I’ve ever had in my life!). Scott offered to cook me a quesadilla. I declined, thinking I wouldn’t be able to hold it down.

I ran down the Main Divide, carefully. I passed the sweeper and Jeff Higgins on their way up. I didn’t pass anyone on the way down and made only a very quick stop at the next aid. The sweeper and Jeff came in right behind me, and Cris Francisco took over as sweeper. Cris was so kind with his encouraging words and told us to take advantage of the downhill. Not wanting to be with the sweeper, even though he was Cris, a great guy, I took off running quicker than I wanted to. I continued running on what seemed like a new pair of legs. I ran the uphills even and continued running, leaving the sweeper and Jeff behind.

And then as the dropping sun turned the sky orange, at mile 41, a jeep pulled up beside me. The passenger rolled down the window and said, “Lauren, I have some bad news.” I looked at his car and runners in the back seat. In disbelief I said, “Are you pulling me?”

“I’m very sorry,” he said, “but the race director said you have no chance of finishing by the course cut-off.”

The race director!! Steve Harvey? My friend??? My friend was pulling me from the race???? I wanted to plead, “But I can make it. I can!!!!!!” I only had nine miles to go. Instead of pleading, I burst into tears. Even with making the 5:00 PM cutoff at Bear Springs, there was no physical way that I could make it to the peak and then to the finish in 3 hours. It was over. I simply bawled. Not wanting to burden the guy who was pulling me from the race with my pain, I turned away from him and cried at the valley.

I didn’t want to wait for the truck back a ways to pick me up, so I continued running the main divide. Maybe they would forget that they pulled me. But, I knew they wouldn’t forget. When the truck pulled up, I was still crying. The passenger said she was so sorry. Both the driver and the passenger were so extremely gentle with me. I bucked it up and cried silently. The female passenger talked to me quite a bit, but I just couldn’t talk. I phoned my husband at one point to tell him, and bounced around the truck for a long bumpy ride back to the start. We passed several other runners along the way who would eventually get pulled. Emmett was pulled at mile 44 after he was told they he would be allowed to finish.

Arriving at the finish line, people were in a festive mood. The grill was on fire. People drank beer. I just wanted to get my grab bag and sulk away. And then I saw Steve Harvey. The race director. I wasn’t mad at him anymore. He has to do what he has to do. I walked up to him and he said, “I’m sorry.” And then I cried on his shoulder.

As I ate my burger and waited for Emmett, I got a nice pep talk from Jeff Higgins. This was his fifth year trying and being pulled from Old Goat. Here I was thinking that I would never run this race again, and Jeff keeps coming back again and again for more fun. Thank you Jeff. I really appreciated your talk. I appreciate that you came up to me in my misery. I wasn’t pretty and I wasn’t exactly nice. I hope that I wasn’t too short.

Pulled at 41 (me not looking too fresh and layered five times over as the cold, cold, cold settled in at Blue Jay) and Emmett pulled at 44 / as a side note, I really didn’t want to post this picture because I looked and felt so terrible. But, I wanted readers to see Emmett, an inspiring, back of the pack ultrarunner.

I got very little video and still shots in this race. I had to keep moving and only had time to run, eat and pee.

Last Run Before The Big Run

2013-03-21T21:59:00.001-07:00

Last night I dreamt that I was running, and running, and running, and running. I woke every other hour, and went back to sleep to do some more running. Just before I woke this morning, I couldn’t pick up my pace as I ran single-track trails, though I tried and tried. And then, every dozen steps or so, I lost all coordination. It was like I forgot how to run – I couldn’t put the pieces together. I’d finally figure it out, start running again, then WHAM, I’d lose my coordination again!

I was dang tired when I woke.

Today I got in a leisurely single-digit run with a friend who recently moved to Colorado. Lisa (Mom to Marathon) was here with her family on spring break, staying a mere mile or so from my home. So, we got a chance to run trails together once again. I can’t think of a better way to spend my last run before the big run. We chatted the entire time, running rolling hills and a technical descent down Rock It. It was over before I knew it.

Now is the time to just sit and wait.

Comfy

2013-03-19T21:20:00.001-07:00

I go about my day as usual. You would never know by looking at me that I feel like a deer caught in the headlights. Frozen, about to be mowed over unless I MOVE.

I don’t even want to get out there and run this week. Why? Because I’m scared. Silly lady. What’s to be scared of? I never really thought about it. I just went with the fear. Pondering a reason just now, I suppose I’m scared of running because I’m irrationally afraid that I’ll find that I can’t run, that there’s some last minute thing that I didn’t learn or think about. And now it’s too late.

Is that crazy or what? I kind of knew that I was crazy with the enormous runs that I take on (when I’m not even really a runner ). But, I didn’t think that I was this kind of crazy.

This morning, I cast my fears aside and went for another single digit run. It took everything I had to get out on the trails. It’s too cold, I told myself. I’m too tired. I have too much to do . . .

I took off down into Wood Canyon a little chilly yes. But, the thing I noticed most was how comfortable I felt. Comfy, like cozy, and oh so relaxed and confident. That’s so not me. What a great taper gift!

Los Pinos Peak

2013-03-16T22:35:00.001-07:00

I think I prefer the odd goals that I conjure up, over training for long distance endurance races. A 50k or 50 miler not only tries my body, but more so, they try my soul. During these runs (and training for them) I must fight the toughest battle – the battle against myself, against those awful voices that nag, nag, nag. It’s simply terrible.

On the other hand, a couple months ago, I decided to attempt Mount Everett’s elevation gain every month with my running. That brought me great enjoyment – a goal that can be achieved in tiny steps. I did it in February, will probably accomplish the task for March.

I came up with another goal the last time I ran to Santiago Peak (actually, I kind of stole the idea from Jessica Deline, after she saw the photo of my feet on the peak’s surveyor’s mark). Consequently, this new adventure consists of collecting peaks in my runs (and taking a photo of my feet on the surveyor's stamp as proof.)

Anyway, as I continue my wind down for Old Goat 50, which is precisely one week away, I feel relaxed. At the same time, I am terrified. I am terrified of Old Goat. I fear the battle. But, I am relaxed over doing my own thing in running now that “training” has ended – as I did on this cool March morning.

During this morning’s single digit run, I sought out Los Pinos Peak for peak #2. I parked high up the mountain (in Blue Jay) and headed up the Main Divide well before the San Juan 50k runners would be making their way up the same truck trail. I did a run/hike combo and found that I made the exact time as when I did a power hike for the whole 1.5 miles. Hiking power continues to amaze me.

Traversing the Main Divide:

At the Trabuco/Main Divide fork, there’s another prong to the fork, obscured by vegetation and fallen tree trunks. That fork belongs to the Los Pinos Trail. Rather than bushwhack, I hopped some turquoise colored posts and made my way to the trailhead. Then I commenced to run up and down (mainly up) a gorgeous Los Pinos (The Pines) trail.

My tortuous Mentally Sensitive repeats did me good today. I found these mainly-up-rolling-hills amazingly easy (as easy as running trails can get anyway). The views were immense, my home county obscured with thick clouds. These are the trails that leave the world behind.

Before I knew it I arrived at the peak, or so I figured. It appeared as if everything else was downhill from there. Well, I looked around and thought, “Where can the mark be?” Surveyor’s plaques are never in the middle of the trail. And at Santiago Peak, it’s at the top of a pile of rocks. To my left on Los Pinos trail was a natural looking pile of rocks. I hopped up on them, glanced around. Nothing. And then upon closer look, I found a small circular plaque embedded in a boulder. Without my glasses, I could barely read it. And what I could read didn’t make sense. But surveyor remarks don’t make sense. I hopped around a bit more and found a larger circular plaque and was able, just at the perfect angle, to make out the words, “Los Pinos Peak.” I had arrived.

Los Pinos Peak:

Proof:

Peak Goof-Around Time:

On my way back down Los Pinos, I took an off-shoot that I noticed on the way up. Since my mileage was less than expected I figured I had a couple miles to spare. But this single-track trail descended at such a great rate that I feared it would eventually dump me out in the canyon below. And then what a climb out that would be (surely making this run carry into the double digits)! And so, I turned around and ran back up to the trail and made my way peacefully back to the Main Divide. Since this portion will be the last remaining miles of Old Goat, I worked on my footing and form. My shoes felt unbelievably comfortable. So much so, I wished that I had trained in them.

I met the San Juan 50k aid station trucks making their way up the Main Divide. After stretching, I got into my truck, drove down Long Canyon Road and came upon the front runner of the San Juan 50k, Dean Dobberteen (spelling?). I’ve seen him many times, usually the front runner. Anyway, he made that Candy Store run that I’ve been training in TWO HOURS!!!!! This is basically the same course (actually his was shy a mere two miles) that I finally got in less that 6.5 hours. Wow. (I won’t let that throw me. He is among the best of the best. I just want to finish, or at least try and finish).

And such is trail running . . .

Enough of That

2013-03-13T21:36:00.001-07:00

Today’s single digit run was a bear. A real bear! I began at the top of Mentally Sensitive (the closest steepest trail I know) and “ran” up and down it not three times, but FOUR times. I had a miserable time of it on the uphills. I practiced the fancy feet, quick technical running on the downhills. It took complete focus not to fall or trip. The 4th trip up was brutal. Down right excruciating.

I think that’s enough of that. For today anyway.

I cannot wait to lay my head down and sleep.

Single Digits

2013-03-12T22:23:00.001-07:00

It’s officially wind down time. My next several runs will be single-digit-mileage. Today, I took to an old favorite, an out-and-back to Top of the World in Laguna Beach. I got some minimal climbing, seemingly endless rolling hills, cool breezes, blue skies and spring flowers in about 6.5 miles.

Though the pressure’s on, the pressure’s off – see if that makes any sense.

Heading to Top of the World:

The distant mountains – less than two weeks, I’m there!

Heading back to the truck: