Holy Moley

I ran my semi-long run in Trabuco Canyon this morning.   I decided mid-week, it would be Holy Jim.  Holy Moley!  Yup, I ran up Holy Jim for a ten mile out-and-back on purpose.  I love Holy Jim.  And besides, Twin Peaks goes up this trail once and then back down later.  So, I better love it!

Camera on my truck, I snapped a quick picture before heading up the mountain (I have no idea what I’m doing with my hands).  I got a late start, 9:00 AM, so it warmed up pretty quickly:

Holy Jim, How do I love thee?  Let me count the ways:

The first two miles were lush, green and cool.  I hopped boulders and ran along logs at creek crossings:

The descendants of Cussing Jim’s figs towered me along the trail:

After the last creek crossing I began the giant switch-back up to The Main Divide, meeting many hikers along the way:

Climbing for awesome views, one hiker said that I was “crazy.”  And I felt like that was a compliment. 

The climbing didn’t cease for nearly five miles:

And then suddenly, there she was – The Main Divide.  I ran up swatting biting horseflies off my legs, and breathing gnats in through my nose.  LOL:

A tiny bit of discomfort all worth-while for Holy Jim:

As I headed back down Holy Jim, a hiker began slipping behind me on this rocky slope.  She chuckled as I picked up my speed to avoid sliding.  When I recommended she move quickly to avoid sliding, I don’t think she believed me at first.  Someone told me that once while running in Weir Canyon.  I didn’t believe him either.  But I watched him run down a steep slippery slope without sliding while I struggled to stay upright:

 

I ran as quickly as I could on the way down Holy Jim Trail.  Two bikers stopped me to ask if I had bug spray.  Horseflies were biting them as well. By then I had become proficient of swatting the giant flies off without even taking my eyes from the trail.  I didn’t have bug spray, and the mountain bikers didn’t seem too pleased when I warned them about the gnats further up the mountain.  “Breathe through the nose,” I said.  Anyone who has ever practically choked on a gnat, as I have more than once, might find this worthwhile advice. : )

And the sun came out stronger; I ran faster, tripping only once.  I attempted to pivot on the switch-backs, which I found I was too fearful to do while running fast.  However, even stopping to pivot off one leg, seemed more efficient than running fast tiny steps around the sharp corners. 

Oh the glory.  Look closely, a little lower than mid-photo and you will see the trail I ran down (& up ):

I passed more and more hikers making their way up to Santiago Peak in the hot weather.  I chatted briefly with one large group of hikers and the motherly-teacher in me gestured for one of the women to twirl around.  You see, she was empty handed, and when she followed my request and turned around for me (I guess I have an aura of authority sometimes) I exclaimed, “Where’s your water?”  That’s when I noticed that hardly any of the hikers carried water.  “Oh, don’t worry,” she said, “he’s carrying my water.”  Apparently a couple guys were carrying water for the whole group.  Not enough, I thought to myself.  That’s when I gave them directions to the spring and let them know that I’ve drank from it plenty of times.  Yes, it was gorgeous up there, but it was HOT.  I drank the very last drop of my 64 fluid ounces as I approached my truck.  Then I guzzled down what I had inside of the car. 

Holy Jim Profile:

The satellite:

Palm Sunday Run

I was fortunate enough to spend all of my morning and some of my afternoon running trails in the Saddleback Mountains this Palm Sunday. This week the ultra running world lost a legendary runner. I didn't know him, never met him, but today I dedicate this run to Micah True, whose body was found on New Mexico trails yesterday. R.I.P. Caballo Blanco.

I began my morning running up Holy Jim Trail which used to be a terrible trail.  It’s still the same trail.  But now, I can run all of it.  That’s a huge deal for me.  It’s no longer terrible.  It’s a beautiful joy.  Really!

A couple hikers kept their pace up ahead of me, amazingly fast.  They marched in such perfect unison, I had to ask, “Are you in the service?”  They (a young man and woman) told me that they were training for a Mount McKinley hike this summer.  No wonder they were wearing hiking boots, long pants and sleeves.  I would never go up Holy Jim in pants unless I was preparing for something warmer in the summer – even then, I’m not sure I would do it.

As customary, I broke my run into segments.  Just get through one segment at a time, that’s my motto.  Holy Jim was my first segment.  And though I took it running at a relaxed pace, I conquered it feeling good.

Creek crossing leading to Holy Jim trailhead:

Approaching final creek crossing going up Holy Jim:

Sun coming up over the other side Trabuco Canyon:

The Fastest Hikers in The World up ahead (notice towers from Santiago Peak on the skyline):

One of the many reasons I love Holy Jim:

I knew the trip up the Main Divide to Santiago Peak would be difficult.  Knowing makes a world of difference.  Knowing equals no stress.  The Fastest Hikers in the World took off toward Upper Holy Jim, so I was quite surprised as I neared the peak, I looked back and saw that I had passed them by a pretty good distance.  Several motorcyclists drove past me on their way to the top.  I wasn’t too annoyed that I had to step to the side and stop to let them pass. 

I could hear lots of noise as I approached the towers at Santiago Peak, humming machinery noise and something much louder.  It sounded like dozens of people hammering on metal.  This didn’t seem odd to me.  I merely figured that people were working at the towers this morning.

When I got there, no workers were in sight.  But the incessant hammering and clamoring grew louder.  Clang, clang, clang surrounded me as I focused in on my surroundings.  That’s when I saw it.  Dozens, if not hundreds of icicles were melting and slipping off of the towers.  They were as long as swords, plummeting probably 30/40 feet to the ground.  As these ice daggers fell, they crashed onto parts of the towers below, making that loud  clanging noise, finally hitting the ground in several pieces the size of icebox ice cubes. 

Well, I stood there for a while, wondering how I would get to the edge for a county view without getting hit by a falling chunk of ice.  After watching carefully (and in awe) I noticed that most of the ice fell within the parameters of the fences surrounding each of the towers.  So I put my hand on my head and ran.  I figured that it would be better if an ice chunk hit my hand than my head.   

I made it to the edge to talk to a couple of motorcyclists.  I wish I would have taken their pictures.  One of the gentlemen was so extremely happy to be there he lightened my mood immensely.  It was he who took my camera and snapped the geeky photo of me below. 

The Main Divide on the way to Santiago Peak:

Gorgeous views from The Main Divide:

The towers at Santiago Peak (AKA Talking Peak):

Geeked-out:

As I ran back to The Main Divide, I ran past the Fastest Hikers in the World who were sitting at the summit.  I ran up to them and we chatted a bit.  I told them about Joplin Trail and pointed it out in the distance.  They seemed excited to try it out.  I saw several hikers making their way up The Main Divide as I ran down it.  Motorcyclists also passed going up and down, as well as mountain bikers.  I spoke with one guy who I would later see a couple times much later in the run. 

Clouds completely covered the mountain as I ran down Upper Holy Jim Trail.  My views were simply pure white, misty skies.  At this point in the run, though physically I felt I could go on forever, my brain could not.  I began losing the mental battle.

Running down Upper Holy Jim:

This run was taking way too long and I thought along the way that I might cut it short a little by running down Horsethief instead of Trabuco.  As soon as I got cell service, I phoned my husband with how I may alter my route.  (He did not like that I was running the mountains alone, so I had written out my route before I left). 

As I mentioned earlier, my body felt strong.  My mind did not.  It felt bored.  It took in the majestic views, but my mind tired of putting one foot in front of the other, again and again, mainly uphill.  Over and over I thought West Horsethief was just around the corner, and if it was, I thought, “I can make it to the top of Trabuco no problem.”  But it wasn’t just around the corner!

Well!  By the time I FINALLY made West Horsethief, there was NO WAY I was running all the way to the Trabuco Trailhead.  Instead, I trotted down West Horsethief for a shortcut to Trabuco Trail.  I passed the cyclist I met by the peak.  He was walking his bike up.  I told him that he picked a tough trail to go up, to which he responded that he had a race in a week.  Funny, I have a race in two weeks – and by this time in my run, I thought I was going to be in BIG trouble come that race.

View from Main Divide of Orange County and The Pacific Ocean:

More than ready to descend upon Horsethief:

Trabuco trail was the longest run EVER today.  Beautiful yes.  Never-ending, also YES.  The high point was giving a hiker directions to West Horsethief.  I love giving trail directions to people.  Anyway, I ran and ran and ran.  I ran over rock, I ran across a couple creek crossings.  I ran on shady, soft lush trails, and then back upon boulders and rocks. 

I was so done.  My confidence dwindled regarding my ability to complete the SJ50k.  It’s not that my body tired, oddly, it didn’t.  This may be hard to understand, especially since I’m not sure how to explain it.  But it was as if my brain grew extremely tired.  Dead-Dog tired.

Weird Run

Yesterday, I planned for today’s run.  I planned a run to Santiago Peak, 24+ miles round trip (38.6 km).  So looking forward to this run, I “daydreamed” about it as I drifted off to sleep.  Then oddly, I began to worry about things – things like weather, mountain lions, human predators.  Still, I scooted off this morning happily, looking forward to this run (armed and with plenty supplies).  The last thing school moms said to me as I rushed away after dropping off the boys was, “Better hurry before the rain comes.”

Though the skies were gray, the sun nowhere to be seen, my foremost worry was fluids.  I knew I couldn’t carry enough to sustain the entire trip.  So in addition to the 70+ fluid ounces in my pack, I carried an additional 32 ounces to stash on my way up.  Fearing a storm (even though it’s not supposed to come in til Friday!), I also packed sleeves, head warmth and wore three shirts.  Three!  Not only that, I shoved the basketball sweats I wore to the trailhead into my pack.  I started off, uphill carrying a much heavier load that I’m used to.  This did not make for a good start.

A quick shot at the start:

Very quickly climbing up the canyon, I was above the clouds, and the sun shined brightly:

The trailhead gate was open, so as I made that first three mile pavement climb through a colorful valley, three cars passed me, one motorcycle and one dirt bike.  One of the cars (a small SUV) had a man and a young boy inside.  Then some time later, a small SUV passed me driving down.  There was only a man inside, no boy.  NOW, I have no idea if this was the same SUV, or even the same color of car.  Both men waved and smiled at me, and I didn’t have the slightest idea whether the two even resembled each other.  Still, I fretted over whether this was the same car, and if so, what happened to the boy!!!

Okay, I guess I was freaking out a little.  Fear and discomfort began to creep in even more.  When mankind vanished and I was alone, I felt a little less paranoid.  A bobcat ran the road just ahead of me, and running uphill I actually attempted to catch a photo.  But the cat was gone in an instant up the valley side.  Besides the squeal of the squirrels, I could hear woodpeckers banging against trees throughout the valley.  Tiny yellow flowers lined the trail edge.  And the water rushing over boulders was music to my ears since I didn’t wear earphones – I never wear earphones when running up this valley alone.   

Still bundled up at one of several stream crossings:

When my feet finally hit dirt, at about mile three, I scoured the land for a place to hide my extra fluids and sweats.  I didn’t find a good hiding place until about a half mile later.  Feeling more comfortable being lighter and cooler, I ran up Maple Springs toward the top.  I saw no other runners, though a few more cars and a couple motorcycles passed me.   I found an iphone practically buried in the dirt, picked it up and tried to phone the owner by going to “contacts” and phoning “Home.”  No service. 

Music helped relax me as I ran up the mountain.  Though I’m not sure I ever felt completely relaxed.  I think that I was so into my fear and discomfort that I only looked down or ahead.  Relief came once again when I looked around and saw an awesome sea of clouds.

Beauty above the clouds:

When I reached “Four Corners,” I stood in awe above that beautiful sea of white puffy clouds.  Then suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, but it had been lingering all along, the feeling of dread, no,  doom, completely overcame me.  I felt, not exactly thought, “What the hell am I doing spending so much time running when I should be home hugging my family, when I should be going door-to-door for fulltime employment so that we can give the boys what we used to be able to give them?  WHAT?  THE? HELL? AM? I DOING???”  And though I posed for the picture below with a smile on my face, I was not feeling that smile.  Afterward, I wept behind those dark glasses, over many things.  And suddenly, I thought, “Forget it,” and thwarted my trip to the peak.  Instead, I ran back down Maple Springs to my car. 

Everyone was surprised to see me so early back home. I hugged my boys, layed down on my bed and fell asleep for at least two hours. 

Tomorrow.  Though nothing terrible happened today, nothing even bad happened.  But, perhaps tomorrow still will bring a better day.

Four Corners:

One last view before running back to the truck:

Running down the mountain:

Back in the valley:

Yucca (Spanish Bayonet):

Elevation:

Satellite:

Afterthought:  the guy who owns the iphone that I found stopped by our house tonight to pick it up.  He seemed like a nice kid (quite young, 17 – 21 is my guess).  He and his buddies hiked to Santiago Peak today.  Bravo.  Bravo!

Oh, No! Not Again.

Over the past 2 weeks, I’ve gone up West Horsethief FIVE times.  Four of those ascents have been over the past 4 days.  This morning, I went up the fifth time with a small group of friends.  Thank goodness for them because the climb was harder than ever for me.  As soon as we began that switchback up, my body and soul shrugged, “Oh, No!  Not again!”  Without Judi, Matt and Kurt this morning, I think that I may have turned around and taken another route.

I suppose I’m a little rambunctious to expect improvement going up this much hated loved trail so early.  My calves still felt like stone this morning.  And honestly, I haven’t been foam rolling as much as I should with climbs like this (I’ve been working more job hours – glory, glory : )

Anyway I’ve been this way for as long as I can remember – expecting immediate results from my efforts.  Thankfully, trail and long distance running has taught me a bit of patience.  At the same time, fortunately, one of my qualities is that I don’t know when to quit.  Hopefully, that won’t be the death of me.  For those of you who have been reading this blog for a LONG time, you might remember, I finally made the decision to drop Bulldog 50k to prove that I knew when to quit.  I did it once (quit that is), and I haven’t quit since.  My husband is right.  I really don’t know when to quit.

Thing is, I am extremely nervous over next month’s 50k.  That race climbs Horsethief at mile 23.  And I’m pretty much scared out of my mind.  I haven’t decided yet on a “game plan,” except for the fact that I plan on training smart and hard for all of March.

Despite the extremes of our loop this morning the run was delightful, as well as the company.  The weather was perfect, though a little warm, breezes added an extra comfort, as well as, the shade here and there. 

Climbing up West Horsethief (notice ocean in background):

“Ultra runner” Judi, training for her first 50 miler:

I bet that I never mentioned that I’m a gum chewer.  Well, I am.  I think that’s true of many ex-smokers LOL:

Top of West Horsethief Trail.  It’s an honor to run with this group and all trail runners I’ve run with (from left to right, me, Kurt, Judi, Matt):

After West Horsethief, we ran The Main Divide for approximately 6 miles.  The Main Divide, is the truck trail that runs along the top of this portion of The Cleveland National Forest.  There’s lots of ups and downs, with views of the west and the east.  On a clear day like today, we could see Lake Elsinore, Lake Matthews and Riverside county on one side.  On the other, we could view Orange County, The Pacific Ocean and even Catalina Island.

Main Divide View of the Pacific Ocean and Catalina Island:

Frolicking along The Main Divide:

Making our way down Holy Jim Trail:

After tucking my camera away, I had to pull it out one more time for a view from Holy Jim Trail:

The run down Holy Jim Trail is five miles.  And though it’s downhill, after what we’d already run, I found it quite challenging.  Two runners rolled their ankles.  I tripped at least 3 times, but saved myself from falling.  With all the snow melted, you can be sure, I stopped at the spring and drenched my cap.  After 8 stream crossings before the trailhead (and 3 or 4 afterward) we made it back to the trail alive and well and lively.  Driving that bumpy off-road trip back, we all had a chuckle because after describing how difficult that run was, we couldn’t wait to get out there again.

14.15 miles logged (22.77 km):

ps.  I really can’t say how fortunate I am in this difficult time in my life to have such a grand refuge.