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

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:

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.