Scared and Excited

Well, the eve before the eve of Twin Peaks is here.  I am scared.  I am excited.  I really want to enjoy.  I love those mountains so much that I would really like to make this a positive journey – a frolic through the wilderness, no matter how many miles I make.

I am up past my usual bedtime tonight without regret, because when I wake at 5:30 tomorrow, I want to be good and tired by 7:00 pm to fall promptly asleep, so that I can leave the house by 2:30 AM for my Saturday morning Twin Peaks start.

Today, I did all my errands, called in my son’s anti-seizure medication refill, did ALL the laundry, dishes, swept,  etc.  I did some ab work, some upper body weights and some floor exercises.  I even told my husband where to find things, stupid things that he’s not used to knowing about, like sheets, medication, etc.  PLUS, if it were ever an issue, I told him that I approve of organ transplants, and that I would be honored to save the life of someone’s loved one.  Morbid?  Not necessarily.  I’m just covering all bases.  He really should know these things anyway. He is after all my mate, the man I knew I would marry very early on; the man who also knew the woman (me)  who couldn’t walk uphill without taking a cigarette break and a rest somewhere in there (in my twenties!!!).  

Besides that, I worked today.  A joy as always to be with the high school students.  They took my mind off the upcoming adventure.  Funny, they have no idea what a basket-case I am.  At home, I fluctuated between numbness and anxiety.  My family was very good to me. 

My staging area is nearly complete (the kitchen table), of which I’ve laid out everything I will need (though I still haven’t picked out my running shirt).

These are the things, in case anyone’s so very curious, that I will put into my truck via 3 bags tomorrow evening:

My hydration pack:  camera, phone, gels, fluids, Glide (for chaffing) Endurolytes, Nuun tables, wipes (not toilet paper – wet wipes!), bandana, an ipod, an extra ipod, extra ear buds, extra sd cards (for camera) headlamp (plus extra batteries), lip balm, band aids, knee brace, ankle brace (both cloth), athletic tape  and a watch.  Plus I will wear sunglasses, most likely sleeves (depending on the temperature at 4:30 AM),  a garmin and a hat, and will also carry one hand-held for fluids.  Oh, and lastly, I will have a list of personal time requirements for me to finish this race in the knick of time, already typed in EXTRA LARGE print (because I won’t be bringing my reading glasses). 

My drop bag (available at about mile 22 and approximately mile 41): extra socks, sunscreen, a roller, electrolytes, gels, coconut water, (perhaps a protein shake if I can get to the store in time), more calories, more band aids, more Glide, artificial ice-packs, pain reliever cream, more Glide, more athletic tape, a bottle of Endurolytes, tube socks, antibiotic lotion, more Nuun tablets, extra lip balm and I’m sure more that I will think of last minute.

My after race bag:  another set of undergarments, clean socks, comfy sandals, a light jacket, basketball sweats (the kind that have zippers on the bottom so that I can easily pull up over shoes). 

For now that’s it.  Still to do:  replace batteries in headlamp and set watch to exact time.  And oh yes . . . pack these bags. 

Thanks so much for all your support and confidence!  I can’t adequately relay how much I appreciate you all.

My Comedy of Errors

As I approach Twin Peaks, it seems to me that I’ve been playing a part in A Comedy of Errors.  This comedy didn’t begin when I accidently threw my camera off the mountain, and the ground gave away for me to slide down the rocky slope.  The comedy didn’t begin when I took that tremendous fall running down Upper Holy Jim that my arm still bares scars from today.  No, my comedy of errors began some weeks ago when I took an unmarked trail that dumped me into a ravine, of which I had to climb a tree to exit, only to find myself tightly entangled in a thorn thicket.  I escaped demoralized, bleeding and covered with welts.  And I cut my run short.

The day after that, I thought I broke my foot, then blamed my sandals.  Finally ended up that I had plantar fasciitis.  That pretty much put my running to a halt (except for one last excruciating 22 mile mountain run).  THEN, while applying intensive home physical therapy, I stood on a chair in the kitchen, lost my balance and fell to the floor, bruising my butt and back.  THEN, just as my plantar fasciitis took a turn for the better, I caught a flu-like bug.  For two whole days I slept.  On the third day, I sipped wine in the evening while taking flu medication, which I’m sure made my illness last longer.  Hubby scolded me, “Don’t you know you should not drink wine while taking flu medication???”  Like George Castanza (the Jerry Seinfield character), I asked “Is that wrong?”  And I giggled myself to sleep. 

Monday (yesterday) came along and though I felt much better, I still didn’t feel well enough to run.  THEN as I watched television, flossing my teeth (I know, TMI), I broke a crown.  I’m waiting for the pain.  Hasn’t happened.  But I cannot leave the hole in my teeth alone.  It feels like a 3 inch gaping hole.  Of course it’s not that large, but with my neurotic personality, a hole in my teeth is NOT GOOD.  There’s no way I can fit in a dentist appointment before Saturday at this point.  Hubby says expect the pain to arrive Saturday. 

Hopefully not.

The great news is, today I got a run in . . . FINALLY.  It was a short run.  A lovely run.  A run with no foot pain (though I still taped my foot).  I had no goals in mind, except to run trails and enjoy.  To deal with my gaping tooth hole, I chewed a piece of gum and formed it around that tooth.  That worked pretty good some of the time.  But then I would forget and start chewing the gum, and that messed up my breathing.  Despite this, my run was lovely.  And seriously, I didn’t panic at all over Twin Peaks fast approaching.  Though I have visualized myself finishing the race many times, while I ran today, I ran through in my mind being pulled or dropping from Twin Peaks.  I told myself that I won’t cry, I won’t yell at anyone; I will act dignified, turn in my bib and get out of the way for the other runners still in the race. 

Rain is expected tomorrow.  Therefore, today’s run will probably be the last before Twin Peaks. 

Today’s lovely run to the Top of the World in Laguna Beach:

Fearful Gait

After diligent self-therapy and constant taping and re-taping my foot, I set out this morning for my first run since last Thursday (and that was my only run last week).  I taped my foot of course, and I am so, so very pleased to report that I felt no pain whatsoever on my nearly eleven mile run.  I took it easy, ran pretty slowly in fact.  It felt like my gait had changed, almost like I ran too carefully, as if my feet were afraid.  I was afraid.  I did not, could not feel the pain once again with just about a week out of Twin Peaks. 

I’m okay with the fearful gait.  The important thing is that I got out there and I ran trails today.  The feeling was so completely joyful, it felt like I had been released from prison or perhaps a psych-ward – as if I were suddenly free.  Not a thing bothered me during today’s run, not my slowness nor the treacherous climb up Mentally Sensitive.  It’s almost like every runner needs an injury so that they can have this feeling of getting back something they had lost.  Of course, I don’t want anyone injured.  But with all my training, I think I was beginning to lose some joy of trails. 

10.75 miles run this morning.  Back at home, I took off the tape, iced and rolled.  And I felt great.

Turning onto my old friend Meadows Trail:

Running up Mentally Sensitive – There’s Saddleback Mountains!:

A quick stop for some swing time:

Goats!:

Back at Top of the World:

View from Top of the World:

Profile:

Trial Run

Recently, I purchased two new pair of running shoes (I got steal deals).  I can’t wear my running shoes out to the utmost like I have been.  Assuredly, I have learned my lesson.

I purchased my regular mountain running shoes, New Balance 876.  And I purchased the next generation of my New Balance 101’s, the New Balance 110’s.  It’s a low rise, lightweight shoe that I usually wear running the coastal hills because the terrain isn’t so brutal.  Now I have 3 perfectly good shoes to run in.  All the rest I should throw away.  (I already threw away my NB 101’s and it was such a sad occasion, I had my husband do it, because I couldn’t myself). 

Anyway, the New Balance 110 is virtually the same as the 101’s, except for two things.  The material is more rubbery than cloth-like, and the colors are WILD.  Now, I’m not one to go for wild colored running shoes.  But heck, the 101’s were my favorite shoes, so I might as well get the next generation.

I went ahead and took the plunge late this morning.  No, I didn’t go for a swim (I wish!).  I went for a run.  With a taped up arch and heal I took off running trails for an out-and-back to Top of the World in Laguna Beach. 

(Oh, and I also got my new camera.)

I felt fine on the trip out.  My feet felt good, though I could tell there was something “there,” I didn’t feel any pain.  The way out was mainly uphill.  I made decent time and didn’t feel like I had lost anything after 5 days off (which I’m terrified of doing).  I stopped once to talk with a hiker who wanted directions to Dripping Cave from the Ridge down Rock It.  The instructions were rather detailed involving 4 or 5 different trails.  He wrote them down and we departed both hoping for a grand adventure on his hike. 

I reached Top of the World ready to refill my handheld.  The day was hot and sunny.  I stopped to take in the view, even sat for a second.  The tape above my socks was coming undone due to dirt getting in between my skin and the adhesive. 

The run back was a different story for this trial run.  Starting off on a downhill, I felt pain right away.  Eventually the pain grew to a point that I found myself actually limping as I ran!  I thought I may have to walk back to my truck.  But as soon as the uphills began, my foot’s pain decreased.  I had some pain the entire trip back, always less on the uphills.  I sadly thought to myself, “I’m never going to be able to put 50 miles on these feet.”  What a defeatist! 

Back at the car, I did some math in my head however, and realized that I needed to make this morning’s run a little less than 9 times to equal Twin Peaks total Mileage (52 miles).  “Humph!”  I laughed to myself when I decided, “I could run that 8 more times. Yes siree, I can.”

Two more weeks.  TWO MORE WEEKS.  (The red star is above Santiago Peak):

Today’s bizarre looking profile (6.42 miles run):

Not So Good News

First the quick one – I actually broke ANOTHER camera.  Monday, I’ll embarrassingly put in a claim on my replacement plan / extended even-if-I –accidentally-throw-it-off-a-mountain warranty.  (Not to worry though, I still have pictures to share, and while I’m waiting for my reimbursement check, I always have my phone if I absolutely have to take a photo). 

Secondly, while I did not fracture/break my foot, unfortunately I cannot blame the no-support, no-give sandals for my foot pain.  The pain has returned, in abundance, but sporadically.  And I have self-diagnosed my problem as plantar fasciitis.  How do I know?  Well, I have a textbook case.  I run on uneven surfaces.  I’ve been running in worn shoes.  The pain is in the heal and arch.  It’s the worst in the mornings, etc. 

Friday, before I knew that I had this dreadful condition, I drove up into Saddleback Mountains (a very long, rocky dirt road) to stash 200 flluid ounces of water at Modjeska Peak for this morning’s long run.  The drive was delightful and scenic, but also very stressful.  I had to focus so hard on my driving (so that  didn’t wreck my truck or drive off the mountain), that I was actually drained upon returning.  It seemed actually more tiring to drive the route than to run it.  (I wouldn’t be able to run it though, carrying all that water).

A proud trail runner, for the first time stashing water in the mountains by myself : )

The drive down from Modjeska Peak:

Well, since I had already stashed water and planned to meet Cody L. for another training run, I wasn’t going to miss this morning’s run.  Pain or no pain.  Thing was, when I got out of bed at 4:30 AM, I practically fell to the ground when I stepped down on my left foot.  I iced my foot as I got ready and I was on the road by 5:00 AM wondering how I was going to do this.

First off, I cut our route short about 5 miles.  Instead of 28, we went for nearly 23.  It included two peaks, Santiago and Modjeska, lots of elevation, and a delightfully cool morning (but not minus the gnats).  I’m certainly grateful for Cody.  If he hadn’t made the long trip out, I may have not got in this run. 

Setting off up Holy Jim under darkness:

As I worked into this morning’s run, my foot pain became very bearable.  We made decent time to Bear Springs (top of Holy Jim), though we were five minutes slower than last week.  The best thing was, I made it to Santiago Peak in 2:46 (my record is 2:45 from what I recall).  Cody made it in 2:40 (but it was only his first time there – I have been to “the peak” countless times now).  It’s a hard, hard climb for me.  Very stressful.  To deal with it, I absolutely cannot think about the climb while going up.  I pretty much can’t think about anything.  I just moved forward, running some, mostly power-hiking that final couple miles to Santiago Peak.  The views made up for some of the struggle.  And of course, finally arriving, made up for all of the struggle.

The Main Divide on the way to Santiago Peak:

I saw one runner coming down about a half mile from the top.  I didn’t recognize him. But I bet he was training for Twin Peaks.  We also saw 2 other runners at the peak.  I know one of them, and he’s definitely training for the ultra, so I bet the other guy was as well. 

A quick stop at Santiago Peak to take in the view (beneath Cody’s hat, my Saddleback Marathon t-shirt – very cool that my race shirts can go to good use : )

Group Photo:

Looking  back at Santiago Peak on the way to Modjeska Peak:

The last 8 or so miles were downhill and quite painful for me.  My foot pain became progressively worse with each step.  Four other runners training for Twin Peaks (3 who I know) met up with us on Upper Holy Jim as they made their downhill trip from the peak. They gave me some good advice on treating my foot condition.  One of the guys said I can get rid of it in five days.  FIVE DAYS!  I am following his regime, you can be sure.  (I’ll go into that in another blog entry).  

Cody and the other four guys made it down to the lot before me.  I urged each one who passed not to wait or worry about me.  (Men tend to fear that I  need help or can’t be alone if I’m having trouble on the trails.  It’s sweet and part of their upbringing.  But really, I had to do this by myself).  My pain was increasing, and I didn’t need an extra voice, caring hand or someone to try and keep up with.  I basically tilted forward and with a blank mind plodded down Holy Jim, sure in a lot of pain.  At the same time, I was oh so grateful that I was able to make this run after all. 

As I sit here writing this entry, I’m rolling a tennis ball beneath my foot.  Now it’s time to put a sock on and ice.  I shall conquer this!  I must if I’m to run Twin Peaks.  I can’t attempt 50 miles with this foot. 

Today’s profile:

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:

Thus Begins My Last Hard Week

This morning I ran the first run in the last “hard week” of my Twin Peaks Training.  I could have definitely used another day of rest after my 38 mile weekend.  But I was out there on the trails this morning nonetheless.  Don’t have much to say about the run.  I was tired.  I felt sluggish and didn’t much enjoy myself.  Then I escaped into the moment and just “was.”  That’s right.  I didn’t think about anything.  I neither enjoyed nor suffered.  Simply ran and did my miles.  I sprinted in the last 50 yards. 

Tonight, I am tired still. 

Miles run: 6.37

Weather:  Perfect; warm, but not hot, with an occasional breeze.

Running up Cholla Trail:

Time to harvest the Prickly Pear:

View of Pacific Ocean from Park Avenue Nature Trail:

Cheers from from a weary lady at Top of the World (Laguna Beach):

I’m Not Proud (But I Didn’t Have A Choice)

After spending the morning with my family, I drove off to the coastal hills for a 1:00 PM trail run to finish off this “hard” week.  When I arrived the gates were closed, yet cars were parked in the lot and along the road.  People were also turning around their cars and driving back the way they came.  I pulled up next to the ranger who stood at the gates.  She told me the park was closed for everyone coming in.  There was a fire in Laguna Beach.  It wasn’t out of control.  But if it did get out of control and they had to evacuate the park, they didn’t want the trouble of evacuating too many people. 

As this kind woman spoke to me, my brain was elsewhere, thinking:  “Please stop talking.  I get it!  I just need to somehow sneak into the park, then I can stay.” 

“Okay, thank you.”  I smiled, turned around and drove off.  I thought of all the park entrances and decided that Top of the World would be my best bet.  So, I went on my way, taking about a half hour driving into Laguna Beach.  I could see smoke in the distance.  Then suddenly the traffic came to a near halt.  At this point I figured that the rangers could easily block entrance at Top of the World.  Then I remembered a way in that most people don’t think about.  There is a park in the neighborhood that Mentally Sensitive ends near.  So, off I was, driving approximately 5 miles an hour to my destination, hoping I could sneak into Aliso/Wood Canyons.  I had to run trails today, especially so close to The Taper.

I felt sneaky.  I felt selfish.  I didn’t really like what I was doing.  But I really wanted to get in this run.  And besides, I tried to justify, if anyone’s going to be safe and know what to do if trouble arises, it’s going to be me.

Before I continue, I should go into a little background for people who don’t live here.  October is fire season in California.  It has always been (Okay, it’s not exactly October, but it’s close).  Some Octobers we escape without fires.  Other Octobers we get clobbered.  A few years ago, my parents were evacuated in San Diego county from wildfires that burned down several neighborhoods.  Also, some years back in Orange County, we had some pretty bad fires, closing some mountain trails for a year or more. 

I remember as a child living near the foothills of the San Gabriel Mountains (L.A. county), seeing those mountains ablaze again and again.  Ashes used to fall down like snowflakes in our backyard.  Our car windows were coated with ash.  I guess you probably got the point that October is fire season, and that we are a little paranoid about it around here.  But more so, we are paranoid about it in Laguna Beach.  In 1993, during my senior year in college, Laguna Beach had a firestorm like no other that I can remember.  Other areas got hit too.  But Laguna Beach only has 3 ways out – Highway 1 South, Highway 1 North, and Laguna Canyon Road. 

We lived pretty close to the Dana Point / Laguna Beach border at the time.  Standing outside our apartment, we could watch for hours, miles and miles of headlights trying to escape the city.  A bright orange glow shined at the tops of the hills.  Ashes rained down everywhere.  Entire neighborhoods burned to the ground, 366 homes total and 17,000 acres in Laguna Beach alone.

The local community has very good reason to be paranoid about fires.  This is why I’m not proud of circumventing this paranoia so that I could run. 

The hills were smoking as I drove on today toward the park near Mentally Sensitive.  Dozens of firemen, dressed in heavy gear climbed the hillsides in 90 F degree heat.  A helicopter occasionally flew by to drop fire repellant. 

I finally made it to the street I needed.  It was blocked by police.  So, I drove around to get to the other side of the smoldering hillside.  I parked along the street, happy to see no law enforcement or fire crews, and ran into the city park toward Mentally Sensitive.  Before I arrived to the trail, I spotted Meadows Trail in the distance.  Three fire trucks were parked at Meadows’ entrance.  So, I wouldn’t be running down Meadows.  Thing was, Mentally Sensitive’s trailhead is visible from Meadows.  And so, I bushwhacked my way down the hillside so that I could reach my trail unseen lower down the slope.  Thing was, when I came upon my trail, I could still see the firemen.  I don’t know if they could see me, or if they even cared.  But I ducked, yes, I’m not proud.  I ducked as I ran along the trail.  If only I wasn’t wearing my dang orange hat.  Eventually I had to stand erect, the trail was so steep.  When I did, I didn’t look back.  I ran down Mentally Sensitive and didn’t ease up until the trucks were no longer in my sight.

I was in!  And unless they evacuated the park, I was going to stay in.  But I didn’t see anyone for at least three miles, so of course I worried that they had indeed evacuated the park.  Finally, I came upon some mountain bikers.  Later I came upon small groups of hikers, so I felt confident the rangers had not evacuated.  Unless the same ranger who told me they were closed saw me, and remembered me (dang orange hat), I was home free!  Just to make sure, I took a single track as soon as I could.  I ran Coyote Run, feeling pretty good physically.  But the heat was tough. 

In all I ran a ten mile loop.  I was supposed to run 12 miles.  I goofed, because I forgot to look at “The Plan.”  Therefore, I came in about 2/3rd’s of a mile short of my 72 weekly miles.  (My oldest son said that I should just run around the block, I laughed at that notion – smart boy, but this Mama’s done running for the week!).

Shhhh (please).  Running down Mentally Sensitive:

Finishing up Meadows, headed into Wood Canyon:

Coyote Run Trail:

Running up Rock It Trail:

Headed back to my truck: