Take Two

Today’s run ended my “rest while running” time.  I thought it apropos to end my “rest” by attempting the run that seemed to set the downward spiral in motion during my training last September. 

I set out running Bommer Ridge in dense fog this morning headed for Old Emerald.  I took a wrong turn last time, which resulted in pure HECK.  This morning I accidently took Bommer ridge down to Willow Trail, which I do every single time.  That was no big deal.  I just had a short uphill run to get back on track.

 

I came upon one other runner on this lovely, yet eerie morning.  He turned around and joyfully hollered a greeting.  Bundled up from head to toe, I couldn’t tell right off if I knew the man.  I mean, he kind of looked familiar.  “Do I know you?” I asked.  (I say that more than ever now that I’m a trail runner).  Turns out we didn’t know each other.  My friends and family who don’t run trails think that this sport is small.  And it is.  BUT to me, it’s a huge sport.  I constantly come upon people at races and on the trails that I’ve never seen before. (And I stay in my own state!)

Anyway, a thick gray coyote looked on at me through the mist as I ran onward searching for Old Emerald Trail.  I felt certain I missed it last time because it was not marked.

I focused off to my right for an unmarked single-track.  Eventually, I found a distinct single-track.  Unmarked.  It didn’t look familiar.  But keep in mind, when I run Old Emerald, I run up it.  I ran down Old Emerald just once. 

So, I ran that single-track down the hillside and told myself firmly, “If you get into trouble, TURN BACK.”   I noticed bike tracks, no footprints.   Nothing looked familiar.  With the fog so thick, I could not make out my surroundings very well.  Then finally, I noticed a ledge down below that could probably give me a good view.

From the ledge, I could see the meadow I was aiming for, way, way off in the distance.  Problem was, there was a ridge between me and the meadow.  I was on the wrong trail.  It’s pretty much a straight shot to the meadow from Old Emerald.  I would definitely remember having run over another ridge.

So, I ran back up that single-track, a little proud of myself for not taking the trail anyway, just to see what would happen. 

Back on Bommer Ridge, I came upon another single-track.  I ran a short distance of it, to the edge, before its descent.  I could still see that ridge.  Wrong trail.  And so, I continued onward, confident that I would find Old Emerald because here and there I could see an outline of the ridge that separated the canyon from my meadow.  Sure enough, soon after the other ridgeline sloped down to nothing, I came upon this trail:

Unmarked?  It may seem so.  I felt vindicated.  That is until I turned around and saw the trail marker, clear as day on the left edge of Bommer Ridge.  I ran down Old Emerald with great focus and renewed energy.  At the bottom, I ran probably twenty-five feet before I came to Old Emerald Falls Trail.

Entering Old Emerald Falls:

The meadow!

The climb out of Old Emerald Falls was a chore.  It was single track, and in places technical, which took my mind off the difficulty.  From there I caught Moro Ridge and ran it all the way to the ocean (well, I had to take a couple other trails).  I saw these two, seemingly tame deer as I made my way down B.F.I. Trail:

Running beneath Hwy One for a view of the grand Pacific:

From there it was all uphill, a lovely, cool uphill.  The last run of my “restful running” couldn’t have turned out better.