After The Rain

Southern California finally got some rain.  Two days of rain!  And we didn’t drown. And we didn’t flow away.  After the rains, I got two days in a row of running. Not two WHOLE days, but some hours worth, (while struggling, suffering way too early from fatigue).  Still I got, two glorious days, plodding one foot  in front of the other, as fast as I could muster.

Day One:  Three Beaches

We have five beaches (or 6 or 7, depending how you count) in my town.  Three of those beaches, the northern beaches, are adjoined along one long sandy strip, providing a nice 2+ mile stretch to get your feet moving:  Monarch Beach, Salt Creek and Dana Strands (AKA The Strands).  I decided early on Thursday, after getting the boys all off to school, that I would run the northern beaches, as all my coastal trails were closed due to “wet and muddy conditions.” 

I parked on Camino Del Avion, and ran down the bike trail to Salt Creek State Beach.   It’s over a mile along that bike path that runs adjacent to Monarch Links, a golf course with green belt views and memories of our early life in The O.C.  My husband and I lived on the other side of this golf course, across the street from Salt Creek Beach for our first ten years here.  It was easy living back then, though we didn’t know it.  We should have known it – I mean, come on, though we both worked 40+ hour weeks, and I was working on my bachelor’s degree for some of those years, evenings consisted of walks on a lonely beach, and solo dips in the community pool.  Weekends, well  . . . after laying around in our sun-drenched living room, we’d pack up our back packs, and head down to the beach for the entire day – THE ENTIRE DAY.  Hubby would fish in the surf, catching the nights’ dinner.  I’d write letters on pink stationary, write in my journal, read a novel, or better yet, work on my novel.  Occasionally, we’d jot off to the headlands, which seemed so far away (but is only about .75 of a mile away according to Thursday’s garmin recording).  Back then, we didn’t head back up to our apartment until nearly every beach-goer had gone home.  I’m not gonna say, “Those were the days,” because I wasn’t a runner then (I was a roller blader, a swimmer, a jazzersizer and OMG a smoker!), so I was missing out on a bunch – but they were wonderful days nonetheless. 

So there I was this past Thursday, trotting (yes trotting) back down to the beaches that I spent so many countless hours in the early years of my history in The O.C.  I wasn’t missing those days.  They just occasionally kissed my mind as I took in new times on these same beaches – this time, approaching 50 years old, with three sons and a wild-crazy home, downtown in the same beach resort. 

As soon as my feet hit the sand on Salt Creek Beach, I took a right and headed toward Monarch Beach.  Problem with the recent rains – Monarch Creek flowed heavily into the ocean.  There was no hopping this without getting my feet wet.

With my heart intent on running Monarch, I took a seat in the sand.  There were few people on the beach – a thong-bikini clad lady ran barefoot along the sand.   A gentleman did pushups up by the dirt trail.  I unlaced my shoes, shoved my socks inside and not so gingerly trudged across Monarch Creek.  My feet sank into the wet sand, as my mind relished the cool rushing water. 

On the other side of the creek I was free!  Free to conquer the remainder of Monarch Beach.  Birds barely flinched as I trotted up on them barefoot in the sand. 

I did some boulder “running” to practice for Calico which is about a month away.  These rocks however, unlike the ones that don’t seem to move in the desert, wobbled like teeter-totters when I pounced on them.  I only fell once – it was a hard solid fall, with the ground giving no resistance.  I pushed myself back to my feet happily unscathed. 

The rocks along Monarch Beach:

After Monarch, I ran back across the creek (taking my shoes off again), ran along Salt Creek, and then The Strands.  I stopped when I hit The Headlands where I photographed some sea anemones and watched the waves crash up on the rocks. 

7.25 miles

Day Two: Mentally Sensitive / Mathis Loop

The coastal trails in Aliso/Wood Canyons opened back up on Friday.  Grudgingly, I had to come to terms with a nagging ankle problem that I believe is not really an ankle problem, but a heel problem.  My hunch is that the stiffness and low-level pain that I’ve been denying is related to my on-going plantar fasciitis.   Frequent calve stretching along Aliso Creek Trail alleviated the situation within about the first mile (which further points to a plantar fasciitis problem).

Anyway, the trails were muddy, and my climb up Mentally Sensitive proved quite strenuous.  I worked up quite a sweat, as I slid back three feet for practically every foot of progress (fun!). 

In all, I covered 10.7 miles, with 1,274’ of elevation gain.  Felt good.  And I was tired.

Explore Mode

I am so flippin’ bored of running in the coastal hills that when I pulled up to Aliso / Wood Canyon Wilderness this morning, I wanted to choke myself.  Choke myself!  Seriously.  I did not want to run those trails AGAIN.  I contemplated getting out of my truck and plopping down in the grass alongside the road and just laying there, staring up at the blue sky.  I didn’t want to stay, but I also didn’t dare drive back home, else I implode in self-condemnation. 

The other day I witnessed a woman carrying a big stick as she ran into Wood Canyon.  I remembered then fondly the days I used to be afraid of running these trails alone.  Today, I could barely stomach going out on the same trails that I have run again and again and again.  Yet, somehow I managed to strap on my vest and cross the street and enter Aliso/Wood Canyons Wilderness Park.

I piddle-paddled in and about the native plant garden off of Aliso Creek Trail.  I admired the cacti and pretty coastal flowers.  I sat at one of the many loveseats and snapped a photo, and I took in an antique harvester used on this enormous ranch so many years ago.   

And then I came up on a staircase and make-shift bridge across the creek.  I took the pathway over to Aliso Creek Trail East, a trail that I have not much explored due to the fact that it’s not on the park map, and it didn’t seem to lead anywhere interesting, nor attach to any other trails. 

And I ran, but not hurriedly, and not caring one single bit about pace.  I stopped when I wanted, explored little paths, and noticed my usual trails from afar.  I ran up on a beehive farm that I discovered a couple years ago.  I approached cautiously and saw several swarms of bees hovering about the drawers.  Then I was off again, determined to run this trail to its end.  Maybe, I hoped, it would lead out of the canyon to the other side in Laguna Beach. 

From there I went into explore mode – my old way of trail running before I knew practically every coastal trail in my parts by heart.  And though this trail wasn’t anything to write home about, it was still beautiful, I worked up a decent sweat and best of all got some exploring.  This trail eventually dead-ended deep in the canyon at a water treatment plant.  I could find no clear way around it.  But, on my return, I got in some good old-fashioned bushwhacking in search for a way back across the creek.  I never found a passage way, but I found handfuls of clamshells, lots of dead-end single tracks and awesome solitude. 

Today’s total run lasted 7.5 miles, approximately five miles shorter than I originally set out for.  But heck, I’m happier with this lower mileage because I got to see new things.  And I love new things, and I love to bushwhack, and I love to explore. 

Coming out of some bushwhacking, I stood in awe at the beauty of this scene.  The picture doesn’t really do it justice, one reason is because you can’t hear the wind rustling through the leaves. 

Misty Summer

Wednesday’s Run:

Miles:  10.39 (16.72 km)

Elevation Gain: 1,243 ft (379 m)

Location:  Aliso/Wood Canyons

Route:  Aliso Creek Trail, Wood Canyon, Meadows, Mentally Sensitive, Top of the World, West Ridge, Mathis, Wood Canyon, Aliso Creek Trail

Weather:  humid, but a deliciously cool and misty summer morning.  Began running in the clouds, ended beneath sunshine.

The Devil Wears Cholla Cactus

Okay, I’m wondering if the English translation for Cholla is SATAN.  I’ve come across many things on the trail, and I’ve learned to stay away from many of those things – like say for example, Stinging Nettle. You would have thought by now, I would have learned about Cholla Cactus, AKA Jumping Cholla.  I have after all, run Cholla Trail on countless occasions.  But I have only admired this treacherous plant from afar.  That is, until Tuesday morning. 

There I was, minding my own business, running along Aliso Creek Trail in Aliso Canyon and I passed by a Cholla in bloom.  It has such a lovely (deceitful) flower.  I stopped and went back to snap a photo.  I took one from afar, then I pushed in close, stepping beneath the lower branches for a close-up.   

I stepped away oblivious to what had transpired beneath the bush.  But I realized right away with the first step that I took.  Ouch!  It felt like needles were poking the bottom of my foot.  I glanced down to see that I had stepped on a fallen Cholla branch.  And I could not kick it off.  After some attempts using my other foot, I managed to break the branch away.  What remained were dozens of Cholla thorns penetrating the soles of my shoes – poking ALL THE WAY THROUGH the insoles.  I could not take another step without prickly pain.  AND my attempts at releasing the thorns were futile.  They poked quick and deep into my fingertips, drawing immediate blood.  I took a rock and tried to shave off the Cholla thorns.  But that only broke them at the surface, still leaving them deep in my shoe.  Finally, I found a thick branch that I used to pry the suckers out of my shoes. 

STILL!  One little thorn dug into my forefoot after I put my shoe back on and tried to run.  After unlacing them two or three more times and trying to dislodge the unseen thorn with my bloody fingers, I sat at the side of the trail nearly beaten.  Forty-five minutes already wasted dealing with these demons, I whimpered a bit before pulling myself back in the game.  “It’s just an obstacle,” I told myself.  “Figure out a way!” 

When I walked I could not feel the thorn.  When I ran, it jabbed hard into my forefoot.  Obviously, it was buried beneath the insole padding.    So instead of finding the little sucker, I decided to crush the little it where it hid.  With a rock and some spirited anger, I smashed down into my insole, then laced up my shoes once more.  Success.  Obstacle defeated.  I was off again, for a shorter run then planned, with a loop totaling 8.39 miles (I guessed 8.4!!)

I am certain to never stop anywhere near a Cholla cactus again. Never, ever, ever!

Tres Dias Mas

I’ve added three more days to my Easter streak, but time is so short, I’ve had little time to contemplate on them. 

Day 19:  I got out late, though I did manage to get in a beloved mountain run.  I drove to Silverado Canyon, and then Maple Springs Road to where the asphalt ends.  It’s a single lane road, that is, not one lane each way.  No, it’s one lane period.  Carefully I drove that road even as eager as I was to finally hit dirt.  And hit dirt I finally did.  I ran up hill on Maple Springs for 4.5 miles.   A mountain biker passed me as he rode downhill and exclaimed, “You’re Awesome.”  Wow.  I never feel awesome.  I should re-state that.  I feel awesome, meaning, I immensely enjoy where I’m at and what I’m doing.  But as a person, measuring my accomplishments, I don’t think I’m awesome one bit.  In fact, I constantly fall miles short.  I am a classic low self-esteem person.  So, when this cyclist hollered this out to me, I felt blessed.  I thought, “How nice he is, and how neat that I am a recipient of his niceness.”  

From “Four Corners,” I turned the bend in the rocky road and headed up toward Modjeska peak for 1.5 additional uphill miles.  I only made it to the point however, as time ran out for Saturday’s run.  At the point, I took in the hazy view, ate my peanut butter and jelly sandwich, then turned back for a glorious 6 mile downhill run.  With about 4.5 miles remaining, two dirt bikers flagged me down to tell me this:  “We admire you. We really do!!”  Wow.  I hope that I am a stranger that makes someone’s day once in a while. Total miles run 12.02. (19.34 km). 

Day 21 (Easter Day):  I planned on getting a run in during the morning hours of Easter.  The morning flew by however, so I was left throwing my shoes and garmin into the car as we rushed off to my parents home in Fallbrook.  After an Easter lunch and way, way too many sweets (as my no- sweets-during-lent had ended), I headed out the door for a minimum run just to keep up my Easter streak.  I ran Dinwiddie Preserve for a grand total of 1.28 miles (2.06 km).  And I was happy to do it.  Note to to self:  Don’t forget to pack a sports bra!!!

Day 21: This was not a good day.  To begin, I dreamt in great detail that I was Jewish and in a Jewish concentration camp.  The dream was heavy, too heavy and too detailed.  A couple things that I explicitly recall are: 1)  I said to myself again and again as I registered as  Jew and checked myself into the camp, “This has already been endured.  You just must endure it again,”  and 2) the utter filth in the bedding that we were forced to lay in (though I brought my own clean bedding along with me, which was promptly thrown out when I arrived). 

Among other things on this day, which I will not categorize here, I jumped off my front porch, catching my hand on a rose bush.  A thorn tore, and I mean TORE through my ring and middle fingers, leaving a bloody mess that would not relent.  Besides that and other things (like I broke my husband’s windshield!) and one of my baby brothers went into emergency surgery last night, I was worn out mentally.  (My baby brother’s fine now, but I witnessed him in a great deal of pain yesterday, Easter Sunday.  I am so thankful that he has such a terrific wife.  She got him to the hospital despite preliminary doctor’s findings that they would “monitor,” his pain.  Turns out he was diagnosed wrong and had a ruptured appendix all along, that he suffered with for EIGHT days.)   Anyway, I’m off subject.  The point of this blog is that I did manage to streak day twenty-one.  I took a short drive and ran up Aliso Creek Trail into Wood Canyon.  From there I turned off on a single track for one of my happy places, “Dripping Cave.”  I spent a little time relaxing in the cool and shady Dripping Cave, then headed back out to Wood Canyon where I finished up my run with 6.11 miles (9.83 km).  I’m not sure if this made the day better, but I know I’m better for it.  And I did get a bit of tranquil thoughtlessness.  That’s always a good thing.