One Fell Swoop

I have been toying with the idea of running The Harding Hustle this year instead of working it.  Ummmm.  I’m pretty sure that I won’t be doing THAT.  This morning I drove to Modjeska Canyon and ran up Harding Truck Trail to “4 Corners.”  From there, I turned around and ran back down.  This is the same exact route as the 30k in the Harding Hustle. 

Mama Mia!  In July it’s going to be hellish.  And I’m not ready to wrap my mind around “hellish” quite yet. 

Talk about tough!  Even the downhill was tough.  I arrived to “4 Corners” twenty minutes later than I planned, so I booked it downhill to make up those lost minutes.  It’s dang tiring to run downhill for NINE plus miles. 

On the good side, the scenery was beautiful; no, it was majestic.  And in one fell swoop, I got dang close to my 45 mile weekly goal.

I will sleep very well tonight. 

Miles run:  18.55

Maple Springs to Santiago Peak

When I stepped out of my truck Saturday morning in Silverado Canyon, I thought I had made a big mistake.  It was DANG COLD.  I’m talking Southern California cold of course.  But that’s still quite cold to me.  I’m guessing it was about 45F (That’s around 7C).  Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. Fortunately, I was layered and wore my trusty beanie and warm gloves. 

I ran without music up Maple Springs, enjoying the quiet.  Well, not exactly quiet.  Wind bursts arrived every five or so minutes, trying to rip my beanie off and dropping the temperature down about 10 degrees.  The wind made a tremendous roar, sometimes a whistle as it blew through the canyon.  About a mile in, I realized that I could hear the wind from miles away.  The leaves would rustle, the trees would creak.  The noise moved up the canyon until boom, the wind hit me.  Just like an ocean wave.  And then again, some minutes later, I’d hear it from afar, and it would travel through the canyon and blow right through me.  My smile was wide enjoying these waves.   Wide like the Chesire Cat.

I was not the only person who thought they’d enjoy a beautiful morning up Maple Springs Road.  Several trucks passed me by, as well as motorcyclists and mountain bikers.  But I arrived to a tranquil “Four Corners,” with only one mountain biker who had just rode up Harding Truck Trail.  I took in the views of several counties (San Bernardino, Riverside, LA, and Orange) and turned off on one of the “corners” heading up toward the peak, Santiago Peak that is. 

View of San Gabriel Mountains from “Four Corners”

The road up The Main Divide toward Modjeska Peak (which I only ran past, not up to) was rocky.  When I write rocky, I’m talking about those fist-sized and some a bit larger rocks covering the road.  A challenge to say the least!  At one point I heard an engine revving up this road.  It was a little, and I mean tiny, low to the ground, yellow automobile.  Rocks clinked and clanged the bottom of his car as the driver drove past me.  He wore a huge grin and sat low to the ground.  The scene reminded me of a couple Harry Potter movie scenes.  It seemed to me that this guy driving up the mountain (quite quickly, I might add) was like the bus driver of that crazy, magical bus, manically driving through the streets of London (Prisoner of Azkaban).  At the same time, I saw Ron Weasley in Chamber of Secrets when he stole his father’s car and drove wildly through the countryside.  I had to chuckle. 

That yellow car is about to turn the corner in the background of this picture: 

After I passed Modjeska peak, I ran the saddle of Saddleback mountains.   The wind blew strongly.  The views were immense.  I rarely run the saddle, which lies between Modjeska and Santiago Peaks.  A treat indeed!   While running the saddle, that little yellow car came racing down from Santiago Peak.  I snapped a picture and the driver quickly stopped on the road right next to me.  He turned off the engine.  Red-faced and smiling, he looked at me questioningly.  I grinned back and laughed, “Are you crazy?”  (Like I’m one to ask, standing in the saddle of the saddleback mountains all by myself).  “You know,” he said, “Yes.  I do believe that I am crazy.”  We both laughed and chatted a short bit, then went our separate ways.   I ate my peanut butter and jelly sandwich on whole wheat bread as I made the remaining climb to Santiago Peak. 

In the Saddle:

Santiago Peak where the wind took no prisoners!

The run back down to my truck was tough.  It was after all 9 miles of downhill.  And my foot did not like it one single bit.  I did see several hikers, chatted with some.  More trucks made their way up Maple Springs and countless mountain bikers as well.  My foot ached a great deal for the last two miles.  But I still trotted in.  Arriving at my car, I found another driver parking in the best spot in the whole canyon.  It seemed like I had been the only person to discover this parking place, even though it’s so obvious.  He was a mountain biker, and agreed that we had indeed found the best place to park.  When I pulled out, he pulled into my spot, and set up to make his way up the mountain.  As one comes down, another goes up.

What a WONDERFUL morning!

Harding Hustle / Maple Springs Aid

I woke to a 4:30 AM alarm and frantically searched my brain.  “What am I supposed to do?”  Eventually I realized that I was working the Harding Hustle race in Modjeska Canyon.  Let me tell you!  I was so happy to remember that I was working this race and not running it.  Why?  First off, because I was so dang fatigued.  But most importantly, because we’re in the middle of a so-called “heat wave.”  I wouldn’t have wanted to run uphill for approximately 16 miles for a turnaround and downhill for the same length. Practically the entire route is exposed, with very, very little shade. (I should not forget to mention the bees and gnats.)

So much to tell from this wondrous event, as I always have so much to tell from working races.  I can’t possibly cover it all.  First off, I met fellow blogger Giraffty. She was working “Check-in.”   We’ve been reading & commenting on each other’s blogs, for it seems years.  I recognized Heather the instant I saw her.  She is even more beautiful and smiley than online.

I also worked with a wonderful crew.  There were 7 of us: 4 aiding the runners, 1 medic, the radio (HAM) guy and his wife/girlfriend.  We set up at the top of Harding Truck Trail, a place called “Four Coroners,” where I commonly run.  Because I am a chronic water stasher, I took advantage of ride up and stashed the jugs of water that I purchased the night before.

The quick recap of the day goes like this:  We were beneath the hot, hot sun for many hours.  Over 100 f degrees.  I saw runners come in triumphantly.  I saw runners come in beaten.  Some runners had their wits about them, others couldn’t think straight.  A few runners cracked.  They flat out lost the mental battle.  And for them they had a nice air conditioned drive down to the finish.  Others dropped down to a shorter distance race.  One runner, took off the wrong way at about mile 23.  She began running down Maple Springs Road, which would have dumped her several miles from the finish.  Because we all thought that she had tucked into the bushes for a potty break, we did not realize her error for quite a while.  That made her error our error.  With many minutes head start, I could not catch her down a wretchedly hot Maple Springs.  At times I could see her far off in the distance.  I yelled out in my loudest voice, to no avail.  Pretty quickly, the HAM operator picked me up in his truck, and we drove about 3 miles before picking her up.  I broke the news to runner with apologies.  Turns out, she was a great spirited girl, and she laughed and laughed about her mistake.  Driving her back to our aid, she took in some fluids and instead of DNFing, she actually ran the 9.3 miles back.

I came to realize some things about endurance running yesterday.  The main thing is, the first  and yes, greatest triumph comes from taking off at the start line.  The other thing is, the main defeat is not your time nor whether or not you finish.  It’s whether or not your mind remains strong during all the obstacles that are hurled at you during the event.  Rarely does everything go smoothly.  Instead, you’ve got things like boulders, locked gates, extreme heat, hydration and fueling mistakes, wrong turns, falls, dropped water bottles, blisters, rolled ankles, etc., etc., etc.   On a good day, a runner keeps his/her wits about him – that is, there’s little panic or desperation.  Instead, despite the unknowns thrown at him, he keeps his mental strength.  Even a strong runner though has his collapses.  I know first hand about those collapses.  And I saw them second hand today.  Fortunately, there’s a silver lining.  After crawling out of that mental “defeat,” there is so much to learn.  There’s actually much more to learn, about yourself, about running, about life, in these defeats than there is in the triumphs.  And that’s a good thing.

Scenes from the day: 

The Last Trail is ALWAYS the Longest

My country mourned over a great tragedy yesterday when a madman burst into an elementary school and murdered twenty young school children and several adults.  Though we all mourn, this event, like other similar tragedies, divides us as a nation as we all weep for the poor families involved. We argue about gun control, public school responsibilities and mental health laws.  I have my opinions and in my sadness have expressed them. 

Today, I merely wanted to get away and run.  Rain fell down upon my windshield as I drove under darkness to Modjeska Canyon.   I had planned on a group run.  After waiting 15 minutes at the trail head, no one showed.  That’s okay.  I needed to get away.  In fact, I felt a little relieved that no one showed.   I felt a great urge to exist in The Now without interruption.  Though my mind travelled to the terrible happenings of yesterday, I forced myself to bring it forward to the present.  And though my mind travelled to the future, as in what should we do????  I again forced my mind to The Now.  And I ran 24 mountain miles for the teachers and children who were murdered, and their families.

The first 12 miles were up hill.  Some slight down hills existed, but overall, it was a 12 mile, cold grind. 

Harding Truck Trail:

At the top of Harding Truck Trail, I came upon one of the thousands of  “Four Corners” on Earth.  It had spectacular views of snow covered mountains from afar.  From there, I took one of the 4 paths, The Main Divide, toward Modjeska Peak, and ran upon crusted snow and ice.  When my feet hit, I could hear the crackle of broken ice crunch down – a delightful, delicate sound.  Often I had to run into the bushes, around giant frozen puddles.  I also needed to concentrate on a strong footing, else I slip.  So much time had passed since my last run to Modjeska Peak from this direction, that one false summit fooled me. (I just love false summits,” said no one ever!)

Four Corners:

Running up The Main Divide toward Modjeska Peak:

At about mile 12, I HAPPILY reached Joplin Trail.  I’ve only run Joplin Trail once; that was UP Joplin.  And I’ll tell ya, if I had come upon a sword during that trip, I would have thrown my self upon it.  Running down Joplin was a chore no doubt.  I ran on snow covered ground.  Though I could not pick up my pace much running down Joplin, the experience was joyous.  Rocks tumbled beneath my feet.  Moss grew upon the boulders.  I fell only once landing on my butt, and my hand slammed down on a jagged rock (that wasn’t so joyful).  I hopped over a spring that was not flowing on my last visit to Joplin.  And I even came upon crazy men struggling on bikes to make their way up this trail.

Just like when I ran up Joplin, I had to grab onto branches running down Joplin, else I fall flat on my face.  After my fall on my butt, I tripped hard once and nearly twisted my knee.  Best of all (besides the glorious snow covered single track), I ran beneath a gigantic tree that had fallen and created a sort-of-bridge over the path.

Eventually, I made it to “Old Camp.”  Here I took off the warm clothing and took out some fuel to consume.  As always when I stop, I turned off the music so that I could hear EVERYTHING.  I heard two men down by the stream.  After several minutes, I noticed that they noticed me.  And then oddly, one of them walked off, not assuredly, looking back at me, toward Joplin Trail.  He wore a pack on his back.  But he wore long pants and was obviously a hiker, not a runner.  Oddly, the other guy disappeared in the opposite direction.  And I had the sinking feeling that he was going to flank me, that is, make his way around the stream and come up behind me.

I got out of there quickly, and began running up toward Santiago Truck Trail.  On my way up, I looked down onto Old Camp, and SURE ENOUGH, that guy, had come around to what have been the back of me.  He looked up on to the road as I ran past.  And I continued running all the way to Santiago Truck Trail.  Though I got an odd feeling about those men, I’m going to believe that the first guy went off ahead because the other guy wanted to explore some more.  Still, I am very cautious and pay attention to everything.  I wasn’t going to take chances.

Joplin Trail:

Old Camp:

I felt great relief upon reaching Santiago Truck Trail.  It was however THE LONGEST TRAIL IN THE WORLD.  Isn’t the last trail always the longest?  I judged “how much longer” by the flag overlooking the vulture crags.  I knew when I came upon the U.S. flag, I had only about 6 1/2 miles left.  It took, of course, much, much longer than I imagined.  I was overjoyed when I finally spotted the flag from afar.  Still, I had about a mile before I actually reached it.   

Next anticipated spot was the trail head to Santiago Truck Trail.  It took flippin’ F O R E V E R.  I wasn’t overwhelmingly tired physically.  I was just tired, more so mentally.  When I finally spotted the trail head, it took me TWO  miles to reach it.  Then I ran another 1.5 miles back to my car.  I was moving pretty slowly in the end.  But it was all worth it, WELL WORTH IT.  Still, I couldn’t wait to get home to hug my boys. 

Santiago Truck Trail: