Day One

Ambitious for ambition, I decided today to start streaking.  No, not running nude.  Running consecutive days.  After my last streak (that ended with 56 days), I thought, “Did that.  Don’t need to do it again.” 

Well, I think I do need to do that again.  I need to kick-start my fitness.  I need to kick-start my love of running.  I don’t know how long I will streak.  Perhaps I will try and break my record. 

Day one of my streak I got a late start in Laguna Coast Wilderness.  9 AM weather was still cool, the skies were overcast.  I set out on Bommer Ridge amongst several hikers, mountain bikers and runners.  Yes, runners!  I saw more runners on the trail today than I think I’ve ever seen on a trail run.  Within an hour, I probably came upon twenty runners.  Festive!  About that time, the sun broke through the clouds too.

View from Bommer Ridge:

The weather warmed up tremendously before I turned off onto Old Emerald, a lovely single track that winds down into Emerald Canyon.  Mountain bikers flew by me all the way down.  I lost them in Emerald Canyon when I turned off onto Old Emerald Falls.  The bikers continued up Emerald Canyon back to Bommer Ridge .

Old Emerald Trail:

Heat bared down even harder as I ran Old Emerald Falls.  To make matters even more difficult, the landscape was dry and exposed.  My pack contained plenty of fluids, but I really could have used some ice in my cap.  I took in a lot more heat than I expected and looked forward for this never ending lonely trail to end.  Not a pleasant experience.

Old Emerald Falls (I have no idea where the falls are/were!):

Matters didn’t improve much when I finally hit El Moro.  I really don’t think there’s a single piece of shade on that trail.  After a while, I began to think I was running the longest trail ever!  When I finally got a look at the grand Pacific Ocean, I was ready to jump head first into it.  I would have if I could have.  My saving grace was an occasional breeze.

I ran into the parking lot on my way to No Name Ridge where I would close in this giant loop.  I guzzled down at the water fountain and washed my face with cold water in the restroom.  With about half my fluids remaining, I didn’t refill my pack.  Why didn’t I refill my pack?  Because I was lazy.  Yes, LAZY.  I broke one of my hard fast rules, which to ALWAYS refill.  I paid for this big time. 

The heat continued to bare down on during those last four up hill miles.  With about two miles left, I sucked down that last of it.  All I could think about was water.  Water and shade.  I brought my energy level way down.  And I finally found a bit of shade beneath a kiosk where I sat to cool down for a few minutes. 

I knew I wasn’t going to die or stroke out or anything like that.  There were plenty of hikers at this point, that if my situation got crucial, I could beg water off.  Still, the last two miles were pretty dang miserable. 

Making my way up No Name Ridge on my way back to the truck:

My little piece of shade:

I made it to a drinking fountain before my truck.  After guzzling down I washed my face.  Then I guzzled down more.  Feeling better, I took off my hot shoes and socks, and relaxed in an air-conditioned car before taking off for home. 

Day one was a huge struggle. 

After a cold bath at home, I’m all better.

 

The loop:  Boomer Ridge, Old Emerald, Emerald Canyon, Old Emerald Falls, El Moro Ridge, B.F.I., No Dogs, No Name Ridge.

Change of Plans

I woke with a sore throat and considered not running.  Every time I run with a sore throat it seems that I get sicker and lose more time from training.  But I’ve already lost so much time.   I must get in the miles.  There really is no time to lose.  I dosed up on the vitamin C, got the boys breakfast and off to school before making my decision.  I chose to change my original grueling hill training run for a more relaxed 12 mile run. 

I didn’t take any pain relievers so that I could tell whether my throat worsened.  And I debated whether to drive up into the mountains for The Candy Store Run or to run local trails.  Wanting a change of scenery, I decided against the mountains (because there’s the extra 2 hours driving time), and chose parks I don’t often run:  Laguna Wilderness and Crystal Cove. 

These two parks are rather popular, much more than Aliso/Wood Canyons (my stomping grounds).  I think the reason for the popularity is the vast ocean views most of the trails provide.  I suppose they aren’t among my favorites because I live at the seaside.  Standing on my front porch I can see a sliver of the ocean.  If I walk a short block and a half up, I have literally a 180 degree ocean view (my town is kind of in a giant cove). 

Running No-Name Ridge into Crystal Cove:

My throat hurt when swallowing, my calves and shins tightened with each step I ran down toward the sea.  Stopping twice to stretch, I decided the tightness was probably early signs of plantar fasciitis rearing its ugly head again.  I decided to tape my arches once I reached the ranger station approximately 3.5 miles away.  Then as if instantly, at 1.5 miles, my calves and shins felt perfectly fine. 

Very soon, I ran in awe of the coastal beauty.  I was also surprised how many hikers I came upon on this weekday morning – dozens. 

A quick pose before final descent to the ranger station:

Not wanting to waste time, I decided to skip taping at the ranger station.  Instead, I ran out to the ocean for a quick glimpse of what I take advantage of every day.  The water was a gorgeous deep blue.  White water rushed up to my feet.  I jumped back to avoid wet shoes.  Then I stopped briefly to run my hand through the fine sand in search of beach glass.  (Yes, we collect beach glass in our home.)  Coming up empty handed I ran back underneath the highway and headed up to Moro Ridge.  I decided on B.F.I. (Big F****ing Incline) to take me there.  The trail is named appropriately.

Onward to the ocean:

Relieved to finally make the ridge, I soon ran right back down to near sea level because I simply have to run El Moro Canyon.  It’s not quite a brutal run, and it’s beautiful down there.  Only thing is, since I had run all the way back down, all my B.F.I. progress was lost, and I had to climb back out.  I forgot all about my throat.  It felt good to have sweat run down my face. 

I took Nice and Easy Trail for the final ascent which wasn’t easy at all, though it was nice.  I suppose it was easier than the alternative, Elevator Trail.  The trail I took lasted so long however, that I wished that I had chosen Elevator, which gets you to the ridge REALLY quickly.

I’m delighted I changed my plans today instead of resting up.  Yes, today’s run was still a tad grueling.  But it was WELL worth it.  I’ve got both arches taped up tonight.  And best thing is, I don’t have a sore throat right now.  Here’s to hoping I can stay well! 

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. 

Should Have Turned Back!

I went out for 16 trail miles late this morning.  I was READY.  I had my fluids, my calories.  Hubby was going to pick up the boys from school.  Opting for something semi-different today, I decided on El Moro (the coastal hills in Newport Beach).  Unfamiliar with the trail mileage there, I had only a general plan in mind. 

I ran along a lonely, sunny Bommer Ridge, hopeful for a nice fulfilling run.  I admired the Top of the World across Laguna Canyon.  I looked at Santiago Peak wistfully.  Then I decided to tune-in and look into El Moro Canyon.  That’s when I realized I had missed my trail.  So I turned around and took the first unmarked trail down into Emerald Canyon.  I thought Old Emerald was unmarked, though I wasn’t sure.  But this sure seemed like Old Emerald . . . AT FIRST. 

The trail grew tighter and steeper. And I began to think I had taken the wrong trail.  I broke my own rule concerning situations like this.   I should have turned back.  Oh how I should have turned back. 

Running down what I thought was Old Emerald Trail:

It grew so steep, I slipped and fell.  I had to scoot down over large boulders.  The brush grew thicker  and I found myself sliding, face forward.  And when I landed on my behind, sticks and small branches slipped beneath my shorts and underwear and stabbed my bear butt.  Ouch.

And then I found myself boxed in.  I really, really should have hiked back up to the ridge.  But I was so worn out, I just couldn’t do it.  Big mistake. I followed all forks to discover the brush impenetrable.  Eventually, I spied a trail through the thickness, a trail that I recognized as Emerald Falls (Or maybe it’s called Emerald Canyon).  Either way, it’s a portion of the trail that has been closed for a couple years, so destroyed it was by massive rains.  If only I could get to this trail I could get back on track.  But a large ravine with ten foot walls separated me from this trail, not to mention, massive brush growth. 

I

I managed my way into the ravine, falling of course.  I popped up right away and scoured the area, left and right for a way up to the other side.  There was absolutely NO WAY up.  But I did notice a tree in the distance growing next to the edge.  Holding my handheld with my teeth, I grabbed a branch with both arms, pulled myself up  and climbed the trunk with my legs.  I sat in v-section for a bit to gather my wits.  Then I scooted from the tree to the bank’s edge.  Really.  No lie. 

Popping up after my slide-fall-run into the ravine:

My tree:

Yup, sitting in the tree (got to document it all! : )

Now on the the other side, I’ll tell you – I STILL SHOULD HAVE TURNED BACK.  I was stuck in the midst of a tight thicket.  A thin, thorny vine wrapped me like a cocoon.  “Push through it,” I told myself.  “Push.”  Everything time I tried to break through, the vines tightened and tore at my skin and clothing.  I thought about reaching into the back of my pack to see if I packed my knife.  But I was growing so weary, I didn’t think I could reach back.  I used my hat to push down some of the brush on my right side.  Then struggling, I lifted my right leg high and stomped down on the brush.  I did the same with my left side, and continued on this way until I finally made it to the trail.  I was beat. 

The trails won today.  I don’t usually consider myself playing against the trails.  I play with the trails.  But there are those days like today . . . when I should have turned back!

“Get me the heck home,” was all I could think.  My legs were bloody and scratched.  Welts covered my arms and legs as well.  I wanted so badly to madly sob.  But I really just didn’t have the energy.  The only thing I had the energy to do was run.  I kicked up my feet and ran back up to the ridge and all the way back to my truck, for a total of 8 miles today. 

I’ve been “out of sorts” all day.  Why, why, why, do I break my own rules?  I thought I learned in Texas when I got lost, that I need to turn back and go the same way I came AS SOON AS I REALIZE I’M OFF-TRACK.

It’s not just trail running . . . IT’S AN ADVENTURE!

Finally making it to the trail:

A last glimpse at Santiago Peak:

Just about a mile left: