On and Off the Training Plan

Saturday:  Twin Peaks training plan adjustment.  Instead of the plan, I volunteered for the Harding Hustle 15/30/50k Ultra.  And so fortunate was I to be assigned to the “Four Corners” aid station.  I woke at 4:30 AM, left before sunrise for a shift that began at about 5:45 AM. 

I was the driver for this aid, so we packed the bed of my truck TO THE BRIM.  We had ice chests full of ice, lots of food, soda, chairs, radio equipment, etc.  All this stuff weighed down the back of my truck, which was a good thing.  With an empty bed, the back of my truck slides slightly in the opposite direction that I turn when I’m off-roading.  A little relieved about a weighed down bed I was a tiny bit anxious about the drive because I had never driven up Harding Truck Trail (the gates are always locked) AND I was driving 3 others to the station.  Among the group in my truck were two other trail runners (Donna and Red) and “The Radio Guy” (That’s what I called him, then when I asked him his name, he answered “The Radio Guy”).  Another radio guy and an EMT met us at the top as well.

Anyway, the drive was bumpy.  The trail was overgrown.  There were times when the sun shined directly in my eyes.  You don’t see yellow or white when the sun shines directly in your eyes like I thought.  You see BLACK.  This unnerved me a bit since I was driving alongside a cliff for 9 miles!  But then the radio guy suggested I look at the bottom of the truck in front of me, and if I suddenly didn’t see the truck, stop.  I laughed.  But it worked.  It got my eyes off the sun and gave me some vision of the road.

We were the aid for the 30k turnaround point.  And we were aid for the 50ker’s continuing up to Santiago Peak, and on their return.  I had a blast filling water bottles, refilling goodies.  I saw some runners that I know, lots that I recognized.  In my opinion we all worked together well at the station.  I also liked the fact that I felt comfortable telling runners where they were, how much longer, etc.  I’ve been up on these trails more than once. 

Volunteering the Harding Hustle was a fantastic experience, drive and all.  It was 1:30 when we finally arrived back down at the bottom of the mountain.  3:00 PM, I was home

“Four Corners” Aid Station:

Sunday:  Back to Twin Peaks Training.  I hit the trails about 3PM for an out-and-back to Top of the World in Laguna Beach.  It was HOT.  Fortunately, the heat took less than ten minutes off my best for this route.  I’m gaining back some of my heat tolerance.

I had a little incident that I’d like you to decide whether or not I was a bully.  I ALWAYS run the right side of the trail.  Most runners, hikers and mountain bikers stay to the right.  We after all drive on the right side of the road here in the U.S.  Staying on the right is not a rule it’s just something that happens more often than not.  What I believe is a rule, is that if both people are travelling downhill, the one lower down the hill has the right of way.  That person after all does not have eyes on the back of their head and therefore cannot see who is travelling behind them.  Also, bikers yield to runners and hikers.  Common etiquette also dictates that you let others know you are coming.  For example, I let myself be known by speaking when I’m coming up on hikers (especially on a single-track).  Mountain bikers often ring a bell or speak up.  Also, you pass on the left.  Generally, I give everyone the right of way, IF I KNOW THEY ARE THERE.  (I especially give bikers moving uphill the right of way, even if they are on the “wrong side of the trail.”) 

Today, I was running downhill on West Ridge on the right side of the trail.  I took a step to the right to hug the right edge, opening up the trail more for bikers, etc.  Just about then, a woman screamed “ON YOUR RIGHT,” at the exact moment she passed me riding extremely fast, almost uncontrollably fast.  I hopped out of the way, but we were so close I could feel the breeze of her speed as she passed.  When she reached the uphill, she glared back at me and continued up the hill.  What??? The woman nearly wiped me out.  More than perturbed, I hollered out, “You might think about a bell!”  Moments later her friend dinged her bike bell and passed me on the left. 

Now, I am really not one to confront strangers, pretty much under any circumstances.  But as I ran up that hill, steam began to escape from my ears.  When I reached the top of the hill, the woman was resting with her friends (another woman and three males).  I stopped, intent to give her a lesson on the rules of trail right of ways.  And this is what I said in a stern voice, “Did you throw me a dirty look back there when you nearly ran me over?”  The entire group seemed stunned that I approached her with this question.  And they all simultaneously stumbled over their words.  The offender said, “Oh no!  I was just struggling so much, that was a look of discomfort.  We’re good,” she continued, “we’re good.”  The others chimed in, “Ya, ya, everyone lived to tell about it.  It’s all good.  We’re all good.”

I said a few light-hearted things, smiled and told them to have a good time.  Frankly, I was a bit embarrassed about my approaching this lady, especially since I was so out-numbered.  I seriously was going to give her a list of rules if she had answered differently.  But she seemed so worried by my obvious anger, that I let it go and moved on, shocked still by my behavior.  So, what do you think?  Who had the right away?  Should I have said something to the woman?  If so, what should I have said? 

Just wondering. 

A pose at Top of the World on this HOT afternoon (wearing my Harding Hustle volunteer shirt):

A view of Santiago and Modjeska Peaks from West Ridge:

How it went Down.

SO!  I’ve been a little overwhelmed and depressed over non-running issues.  When I showed up yesterday morning (Saturday) in Modjeska Canyon to run a giant loop run with a group, that I had planned for  weeks, I was asked an innocent question by one of my running friends.  In response I started crying!  CRYING!  I felt a little humiliated.  “Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry,”  I told myself.  I don’t like making anyone feel badly or sad for me.  In public, I try to ALWAYS put on a happy face.

I quickly got my mind on running and my running friends were all sweet in helping me forget, especially Judi as we set off for a long, long running adventure into the mountains.

I had run all but one of the trails on this loop, some of them several times.  But I had never run up (or even down) Joplin Trail.  I also hadn’t been to a place called “Old Camp” in a few years, so I wasn’t confident on how to get there.

Our ran began on flat asphalt for just a short while, and then the climb began to the trailhead as we made our way out of Modjeska Canyon.  The weather was cool and beautiful.  Yes, beautiful.  On this particular morning, we could see the weather in the form of misty clouds. 

Running Santiago Truck Trail:

Lisa, Matt & Judi on Santiago Truck Trail:

Brief stop to take in the beauty:

On the run again (photo compliments of Matt):

I’m unsure how far we ran before we came upon the vulture crags, which of course I didn’t take a picture.  However, I did get some photos of us in front of the U.S. flag that flies there.  It’s been there every time I’ve run Santiago Truck Trail.  This time there was a memorial posted for an American soldier (a very young man) who died in service.  Next to the flag was a box with an extra flag to replace the one standing when it became tattered and torn. It’s a lovely, serene place, this memorial across from the vulture crags.  A good place also to fuel up.  I didn’t take in many calories at this point, as I had already picked “Old Camp” to fuel.

Camera on the ground, pointing practically to the sky : ), from left to right:  Me, Lisa, Judi, Matt:

A better picture, vulture crags in background (photo compliments of Lisa):

Back on the run . . .

At some point on our run, I began to worry about whether I remembered how to get to “Old Camp.”  Tom Fangrow showed me “Old Camp,” probably the last time I ever ran Santiago Truck Trail.  I didn’t need to worry about paying attention to direction then, because I had Tom (who is familiar with just about every, if not every single, trail in the area).  I recalled a straight shot on Santiago Truck Trail to the place called “Old Camp.”  But then after several miles, the fire road continued straight onward, and off to the left ran a lonely single-track.  That single-track went in the direction I knew we needed to head, but I had NO recollection of a single-track to “Old Camp.”  I decided we should take it, because after all, we couldn’t get lost with the two peaks towering above us (Modjeska and Santiago).

Picture compliments of Judi (I’m not sure what Lisa and I are discussing, but I’m pretty sure by the way I’m holding myself, that my problems told below are beginning):

View from single-track (which I learned later with internet research, is still Santiago Truck Trail):

We kept climbing and climbing this single-track, and the more we ran upward, the more I doubted that we would make my original plans.  I knew we’d make the Main Divide however, so I wasn’t worried.  Thing was, I really wanted to see “Old Camp.”  And then suddenly while running this unfamiliar trail, I got a quick flashback of my run way-back-when with Tom, and for a second, it all looked familiar.  BUT WE CONTINUED CLIMBING.  Then I saw Lisa stop up ahead, and I wondered if she had come to a fork.  That’s what we trail runners do.  If we’re running someone else’s run (meaning, we don’t know the particular trails, we stop at forks and wait for everyone).  I hollered out, “Is there another trail?”  Lisa nodded and I felt exhilarated.  Upon full view, I KNEW.  I hundred percent recognized our location, one fork went up, the other went down.  We were on our way to “Old Camp!” Downhill we ran into a different world, a world of lush green and shade.

Lupin on the road to “Old Camp.”

And then finally, after about eleven miles of running we came upon “Old Camp,” where we met several hikers relaxing beneath an old giant tree near a firepit.  The reprieve and conversation with these hikers was a delight.  We refueled.  And we talked trails.  I asked one of the hikers the name of the trail we just ran in on.  He replied, “I don’t know, I just call it the trail to “Old Camp.”  That comment made the moment even more joyous for me. 

“Old Camp”:

Picture compliments of Lisa:

Creek that runs along Old Camp, the one we will partially follow up our next trail:

Woodpeckers’ work:

Some point during this run, and I don’t recall when, my stomach began acting up.  At first it ached just a little.  But as time went on, it worsened.  It felt like my insides were twisting into double knots.  I thought a pit stop might help.  It did not.  I’m unsure whether I should even put it in at this point in this post, because what occurred next on the run, tops the stomach problems.  And that was JOPLIN TRAIL.  I’ve never run Joplin Trail.  It’s single-track, green with gigantic trees.  There’s a lovely creek flowing heavily along the side (at first).  And IT. IS. STEEP.  Most of this trail, I was able to keep my mind off my stomach pain.  You know why?  Because this trail was so dang difficult, that I had to focus hard on simply continuing upward.  Travelling Joplin included very little running.  I grabbed at branches to help me along.  I STOPPED to rest.  And there came a point when I just didn’t care whether it took me an hour to travel one inch.  I just wanted to move forward and get this trail that put West Horsethief to shame FINISHED. 

Every time the trail headed downward I groaned.  Going down meant only that some of the elevation that we had gained was lost. 

Creek Crossing on Joplin Trail (picture compliments Matt):

Lisa tells us that it’s getting a little steep (LOL):

More of Joplin Trail:

At times we could see Santiago Peak.  Its towers seemed a stone’s throw away.  Even with the peak so blazingly above us, Joplin trail would JUST NOT END.  My garmin didn’t even read a pace.  When it seldom did, it would give me a 26 minute pace, or something absurd like that.  With my stomach worsening, my mind simply went blank as I just put one foot in front of the other, knowing EVENTUALLY my feet would get me there.  And then, I heard a truck.  A truck!!!  A few minutes later I heard Judi holler out in joy.  And just like that, I was there – on The Main Divide at last!!!

It’s NO WONDER I hadn’t heard much about this trail:

Looking back from the top of Joplin:

Though overwhelmed with joy, my stomach pain was becoming unbearable.  I tried not to grimace.  But I did run, though slowly it was.  I was afraid to eat, fearful I would make the pain worse.  I did drink up which did nothing to comfort my stomach, though at least I was sure to get my electrolytes and fluids (I put Nuun tablets in my water).  When we came up to The Main Divide, we were closer to Santiago Peak than Modjeska Peak.  So we still had to run to Modjeska.  Our spirits were up from finally having finished Joplin.  Our next “landmark” was “Four Corners.” It couldn’t come fast enough.  But it didn’t come fast for me.  It took F O R E V E R.  Each step I ran made the pain worse.

Look!  There’s still snow on The Main Divide:

Matt and Lisa were waiting at “Four Corners.”  Actually, Lisa had run off a little bit to look for some water stash.  She found some, but such a small amount that she didn’t feel right taking it.  Fortunately, the next 9+ miles was down hill – Harding Truck Trail.

My pain was immense.  I told the group how to get down, that there was no way to get lost, just stay on the road.  I didn’t want them to wait for me, because I was going to be slow.  At one point I caught them because they had stopped in the road to talk to a wonderful woman they met running up.  She was over 70 years old, and she was still doing ultra runs.  She had run all the “bucket list” runs out our way.  And not just once, some of them 12, 13, 14 times.  While she was such a delight, her smile a piece of sunshine, I could hardly stand there.  I was literally doubling over in pain.  I tried not to let on as we took in her stories.  But finally, I could no longer stand, and though I just wanted to plop my butt down in the dirt, I leaned over, holding myself by my knees.  Occasionally, I’d squat down with my guts twisting and burning and stabbing at my stomach.  I really wanted to hear the conversation – I didn’t want to be “the wet rag.” Though I smiled and laughed with the group, I wanted more than anything to take off running for a head start.  I knew there was no possible way that I was going to be able to keep up with the group. 

As we headed off, we all kind of widened out, as is customary on group runs.  I chatted with Lisa a bit, and told her again, don’t wait for me – it’s going to take a long time for me to run down.  You see, running really knocked my insides around causing a great deal of pain.  Eventually, I phoned my husband to tell him.  And he wasn’t too happy that I told everyone to run ahead.  Thing was, I felt like I might vomit.  And even if I didn’t upchuck, my pain had reached a peak so terrible, I was no kind of company.  Besides, I knew that trail well, and it was practically crowded with hikers.  So, if anything did happen to me, someone would be around to witness and possibly call for help.

I lost connection with my husband.  So I ran a bit for another cell connection and phoned him again to ensure him nothing had happened.  He thought I had hung up to vomit.    Here was my dilemma.  The only way to ease my pain was to walk.  Running made the pain worse.  But I WANTED THIS RUN OVER.  So, I ran.  I didn’t run fast.  But I ran.  And I forced myself not to look at the garmin because if I did, time would crawl by EVEN SLOWER down this giant switch-back trail. 

Eventually my three running friends were nowhere in sight.  And I plugged away at this run, telling myself, “You’re tough.  You can do it.”  I never cried.  I never stopped (except for the phone calls) and I didn’t even fall (though I tripped once.)  I even took a few pictures.

Scenes from Harding Truck Trail:

I really don’t have a moral to this story yet.  Maybe you can think of one.  I will add one little tid-bit.  With about two miles remaining, I FINALLY spotted Judi and Matt.  They were about a half mile off.  Judi screamed out, waving her arms above her head.  When I saw those two, I almost started crying.  It felt so good to finally see some friendly faces.   They were so, so kind in their words to me.  We had fun conversation on the way back to our cars.  Back at the truck I found a sweet note from Lisa on my door window.  I was very glad for that note.  It meant she made it safely.   Despite everything, it was a great day in many ways.

Picture of me running up to Judi and Matt (this picture means a lot to me – thanks Judi for taking it!):

The Profile:

Update: 

Today, a day later, my stomach is still having problems, but it’s barely noticeable.  Also, come to find out, my oldest and middle sons had stomach problems on Saturday as well.  Fortunately, they did not fare as badly, as their pain lasted only a couple hours.  Also, I could not get enough sleep after this run.  And I ached all over, as if I was in a car accident (you know, not a terrible car accident, but I’ve been in a few accidents and my body feels similar – aching in the oddest places).  And lastly, I’m already wondering when I can do this run again.  Muhahahaha. 

Oh!  And one more thing.  I just found the entry for my original run to “Old Camp” with Tom back in July 2009.  http://laurenontherun.blogspot.com/2009/07/slam-dancin-with-trail.html  After just reading this and looking at the pictures, my memory did not serve me right at all!  How silly of me not to read this post before Saturday’s run.

Streaking into the New Year Day 20

Day twenty of Streaking into the New Year, my 20th consecutive day of running, I met running friend Tom Bychowski at Tucker Wildlife Sanctuary in Modjeska Canyon.  The morning was gorgeous, blue skies, a bit cool.  And the climb was up, up, up.  Seriously, there is (& was) practically no relief on the run up Harding Truck Trail.  A little over a mile in we got a little down hill.  But that was it.

As we progressed toward the sky the wind came in strong.  Really strong. Most of the time it blew head on, giving much resistance to our upward run.  My cap flew off a couple times.  Tom caught it once as it flew down the road wanting to jump off the mountain.  There was also a gust that came in so strong I thought it might knock me down.  Really, it was great fun!  I’m not sure if Tom thought the same, but I saw him smiling here and there.  It was also pleasantly cool, or cold rather, but not freezing.  And I continued to hold tight onto my hat at times, because I wore my favorite cap on day twenty of my streak, and I didn’t want to chance losing it.

Once or twice, the wind blew at our backs, and it gave me a much needed push.  Eventually the wind blew so strongly against us, we figured it was time to turn back.  So, a little over mile five, I set up my camera for a quick “group” photo and we headed back down the mountain. 

High above Orange County, I could see the coast was socked-in, that is, covered in clouds.  I’m sure the fog horn blew at my home.  For us out there in the mountains, the sun shined strongly.  And being so windy, the clouds above the lowlands looked like ocean waves crashing against the rocks.  Funny, as we ran down Harding Truck Trail, the wind blew against us still.  Now, someone explain that to me!  Still, it was fun.  Fun, fun, fun.  And we made it back to our cars in very decent time. 

So, after day twenty, I felt great.  I did some floor exercises at home – clams, foam rolling, to keep up the non-injury streak.  And I felt a little proud for getting this far uninjured.  And then.  AND THEN.  I fell over the doggy gate that separates our kitchen from the living room.  Injuries:  a sore wrist, a very sore elbow, a knock on the head, and a gash on my ankle.  That is me.  Just call me “Grace.”

10.23 Miles Run on the 20th day of my running streak.  (16.46 km)

Harding Truck Trail, Take Two

The first time I ran Harding Truck Trail I didn’t do much running (except on the way back), and I didn’t get very far the trail was such a bear.  It’s not a technical trail.  But it’s never-ending in its climb.  The second time I went to Harding Truck Trail, I didn’t run it at all.  Instead, I watched others suffer the trek when I volunteered for the Harding Hustle 30k race. 

I’ve avoided Harding Truck for a long time.  But then with these recent runs to “Four Corners” where Harding Trail Trail intersects, I’ve been wondering something.  How is it that when I first “ran” Harding Truck Trail I ran south, and the trail appeared to continue on a southern route, yet when it meets “Four Corners” it’s travelling north?  

Did I get out a map?  No.  Did I open up my Google Earth software and investigate?  No.  Of course not.  Today I decided to go on a scouting mission and just run Harding Truck Trail to see where it wound.

The morning was warm, the trail exposed.  Yet, I ran.  And I ran.  And I ran.  That trail kept on climbing and climbing with no end in sight.  I saw one biker quite a ways behind me.  Other than the rider, I was completely alone.

Harding Truck Trail / a lonely trail:

I saw tracks like these ALL OVER THE PLACE!   A mountain lion’s been here:

Still running up, and still running south:

Winter glory:

Still running UP, still travelling south, but moving more and more eastward on the switch-backs:

I recognized some landmarks as I looked back, and in no way was I travelling in the direction of “Four Corners.”  I could see the red cliffs near Black Star Canyon, and Irvine Lake BEHIND me.   And as I switch-backed higher and higher I couldn’t tell when the trail made its turn toward the north.  Finally, I decided if I was going to get back in time to pick up the boys, I needed to head back.  So, I stopped. 

I took a few pictures before heading back on that long downhill.  AND THEN.  And then . . . with the lens still open, I.  DROPPED.  MY.  CAMERA.  If I would have had the strength you would have probably heard the echo of the “F” word travel down into the neighboring counties.  The fact that the lens was open when it hit, and the hard impact that it made, told me that I had broken ANOTHER camera.  This would be number four. 

Sure enough.  My camera was dead.  Gone.  And it was brand new.  Aside from calling hubby to whine about my clumsiness, I tried to let go of the great disappointment I felt.  Why was I holding pepper spray, a Luna Bar, and my camera in the same hand????  Especially with my history!  What a dufus.

I took a detour driving home to check our Modjeska Grade which passes the Santiago Truck Trail entrance (it had been so long since I’d been there).  Later, I went off to the store that everyone loves to hate (Wal-Mart) with receipt in hand.  I told them that the lens didn’t open anymore.  They called in someone from photo.   I didn’t tell him that this was the fourth camera that I killed and I knew exactly why the lens didn’t open.  He didn’t notice or didn’t say anything about the tiny gash on the corner.  It was an easy exchange.  Now, I have a brand new camera.  Let’s hope I’ve learned my lesson!

10.7 miles run today (17.22 km) / 17 days Streaking into the New Year: