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Wednesday, March 16, 2016


I believe it was Saturday, March 5, that we got a huge downpour. I’m so behind now, facts are leaving me. The next day after our rain was blue, bright and sunny, but still a little chilly, which is always good for me – the cooler the better. But the coastal hills were all closed due to “wet and muddy conditions,” and I wasn’t much in the mood for sneaking in. And I was getting such a late start, that I really didn’t want to make the trip to the mountains. And I really didn’t feel like chancing getting stuck in the mud either. Boy. Dilemma, dilemma.

Finally, around 11AM, I decided to do something I have not done in a long time. I ran down to the beach, where San Juan Creek meets the Pacific Ocean, and ran the bike path (which I call the river walk) into downtown San Juan Capistrano.

Where San Juan Creek meets the Pacific Ocean:SAMSUNG CAMERA PICTURESThe Bike Path:SAMSUNG CAMERA PICTURESSAMSUNG CAMERA PICTURESSAMSUNG CAMERA PICTURESSAMSUNG CAMERA PICTURESSAMSUNG CAMERA PICTURESLots of runners, walkers and cyclists made their way along the bike path. As usual when I run that route, I ran right along the edge of the path. I’m not sure why. A misstep could send me plummeting down the cement slope into the creek. Perhaps that’s what I want. Maybe it’s because I’m closer to the water and the myriad of sea birds when I run along the edge. I noticed that here and there, there’d be someone else right on the edge. But most people went smack down the middle of the path.

SAMSUNG CAMERA PICTURESThe creek was loud, roaring almost. It sounded lovely to my ears. I have missed the sound of flowing water for so long. I really think it’s one of the best noises on this planet. The Los Rios District was booming with people. Little kiddies rode horses at the petting zoo. Trains arrived and departed with floods of people mingling about. The streets were crowded with cars, lots of them tourists, as Swallows Day was just around the corner, and the city was gearing up.


After making my way through downtown, I picked up Trabuco Creek Trail. It follows Trabuco Creek, which had split off from San Juan Creek a few miles back.  The creek was so full, I couldn’t wait to get to the train tracks where it flows down the rocks into a giant pool. For so long, those rocks had been bone dry. But not today.  Trabuco Creek rumbled and crashed down on the rocks. Spray splashed up on my face. And the roar was so loud, not a single other thing could be heard. I took a seat there on the rocks and sat for a good twenty minutes before heading back.


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