Back to the Mountains

Day two of “hard” week (Wednesday) rolled around and I rolled myself out of bed.  I felt sore from head to toe, particularly my quads and my arms.  Looking back, I could have probably gotten through the scheduled run, or at least part of it.  I felt more than anything that I really needed a day of recovery.  So, I allowed myself the day off, on the condition that I wouldn’t beat myself up all day for missing the run.  In order to accomplish that, I cleaned house big time, worked on laundry, read and napped.

Wednesday was supposed to be 14 miles and Thursday was scheduled for ten.  I flip-flopped that so that I would not run too much behind, and set off for 14 miles in the Saddleback Mountains this morning (Thursday A.M.)

It was still dark as I sat in my truck in my driveway.  The only reason I didn’t change plans and head for a coastal hills run was because I was too lazy to turn off the car, open up the house and tip-toe in to change the note I left my husband.  (I leave him a note with the trails I’ll be running in case something happens.  And I don’t stray from my note.)

Last night I looked forward to the time alone in the mountains today.  But the closer I got to the mountains, the more I fretted their difficulty.  The Holy Jim parking lot was empty when I took off running up Trabuco Trail.  The sun had risen and the gnats soon discovered me running alone through the canyon.

A quick shot before taking off up Trabuco Trail:

One of the cabins along the trail:

Quickly into this run the gnats swarmed around my head.  Now, I’m usually one to tell people, “You need to accept the gnats.  Then it will be better.”  I usually run pretty carefree through the creatures, especially now that I breathe through my nose.  This morning however, they swarmed my head like I was their hive.  They flew up my nose.  They landed on my eyeballs.    They psyched me out so much, I lost my groove.  I looked to the ground too much, and somehow tweaked my knee along the way. 

I felt like from afar you couldn’t see my head.  All you could see was a swarm of these tiny gnats buzzing, buzzing, buzzing.  I wanted to plop to the dirt and cry.  Seriously.  But to do that would mean remaining with the gnats.  I needed to get up West Horse Thief a bit before they left me, that much I figured.

Me and the gnats on Trabuco Trail:

Needless to say, those dang gnats didn’t get me to West Horse Thief any quicker.  In fact, they sucked the time right out of me.  They pretty much sucked everything out of me.  I didn’t look forward to my run anymore.  I even thought about turning around on Trabuco and heading back to the truck.  But, that would mean that I’d have to run through more gnats.  I wasn’t looking forward much to climbing West Horse Thief either.  However, I managed to run onward, slowly albeit, but run nonetheless. 

The beginning’s of West Horse Thief:

Climbing West Horse Thief WAS A BEAR, though beautiful it was:

Almost to the top, AND FEELING IT:

No matter how tortuous the climb is, reaching the top of West Horse Thief is always divine:

I ran the Main Divide feeling glorious.  The gnats forgot about me for several miles.  I didn’t see a single other person for a long time.  Finally, I spotted a cyclist off in the distance.  As we approached each other I was surprised to see that this lone rider was a woman!  A half mile or so later, I saw another cyclist (perhaps her boyfriend or husband), struggling to keep up with the lady.  Later, a dirt biker passed me as I grinded the dirt toward Holy Jim Trail.

I ran that five miles down Holy Jim eager to get back.  Eleven other hikers made their way up in various groups.  It was a lovely trip for me (hopefully for them too, but their faces revealed a great struggle).  Though lovely, it was a long, long trip.  And I’m oh, so glad I made it – gnats and all (and they were sure to greet me toward the bottom of Holy Jim)

Hard Week’s Long Run

Today I ran 24+ miles in the Saddleback Mountains.  I began in the dark and ended in sweltering heat.  I began loaded down with fluids.  I ended with one handheld filled from a small spring on the way down the mountain.  I had no choice but to load myself down with fluids.  It’s unfortunate (possibly, maybe not) that the only months to train for an autumn ultra is during the hottest months in Southern California.  Even with all the water that I carried (around 110 fluid ounces), I knew that still wouldn’t be enough.  I planned on two re-fill points, one at a secret stash for trail runners, and the other at Holy Jim’s spring.  When refilling at the “secret” stash, another runner came into the deep brush.  I think that I startled him. I heard him approach and amusingly made a step to hide.  Hilarious.  Ended up he is an ultra-runner that I’ve seen countless times, but have never met.  What an apropos place for an official meeting.  We departed in opposite directions.  But I was oh so glad to learn that I wasn’t the only nut out running in the Saddleback Mountains today. 

If you’re returning you may recall that I’m running my weeks, “Hard, Hard, Easy.”  This is the first week of “Hard.”  You probably also know that I’m having a difficult time with “training.”  It is making me feel weak, and it’s putting fret into my heart.  Frankly, I don’t like it much. 

I went out today thinking, “Just do the miles, try not to think about training.”  Most of the time when I run, I don’t think.  I try to stay in the moment.  That’s when running is most comfortable for me.  Today, I succeeded somewhat in not fretting over THE BIG RACE come October.  And I did have some fun.   Tiring, hard fun.

As always on these crazy runs, I broke it into sections/segments.  Otherwise, I don’t think I could accomplish this type of run.  But I did, all six segments.  And oh yes, do purchase a protection plan for your cameras.  Because I did, and already have a new camera.  Yes!  (And that’s with even admitting that I dropped my camera, and pretty much every camera I’ve broken).

The Pictorial:

Pre Run / Holy Jim Parking lot after a dang bumpy half hour off-road drive – READY TO RUN!  Don’t worry, it’s not as lonely as it looks.  At least 7 hikers just took off ahead of me:

Section 1:  Segment Blissful.  Approximately 5 miles, Blissful, included Trabuco Trail (a lush beauty mixed with rocky desert) and my old friend, West Horse Thief, a delightful, STEEP switch-back, when taken in the cool morning air:

Section 2:  Segment Awesome Views, approximately 3 miles of rolling, ridgeline, truck-trail running along The Main Divide:

Section 3:  Segment Gnat-ville, 4 miles, 2 miles down Indian Truck Trail and 2 miles back up, with plenty of gnats flying up my nose and crawling on my face:

Section 4:  Segment Hell, approximately 5 miles up The Main Divide to Santiago Peak.  It got pretty tough for me during this segment.  Still, I was able to plow past the hikers starting up after their Holy Jim hike.  I am improving a bit:

Section 5: Segment Relief, 3 miles back down The Main Divide to Holy Jim Trail.  I met two young women resting in the shade on their way up.  They exclaimed, “We saw you FLYING up this earlier.  You are good!”  Flying?  I laughed at the word, but if they say so, okay, I was flying.  LOL.  I thanked the young ladies.  When they asked how often I did this, and I told them once a week, they both laughed and further exclaimed, “You’re crazy.”  Fun times:

Section 6: Segment Homeward Bound, 5 miles down Holy Jim in the sweltering heat, focusing on the moment, so that I didn’t fall:

The whole:

In the Zone

I set out running up Holy Jim this morning in cold weather (in the middle of summer!).  No idea whether I ran a good pace, I merely refused to look at my garmin to inquire.  Why?  It simply didn’t matter today.  My goal: run the loop.  Just run the loop.  And enjoy. 

Holy Jim Parking Lot, bundled up on an unusually cold morning for July:

I decided this morning not to get down on my training.  Trail running is my  passion after all.  My PASSION.  Good times and bad times come with my passion.  Mostly good times.  But ever since I began my training for the hardest race (forget that, hardest physical challenge) of my life, I’ve been getting down on my physical abilities way too much.  So today, I worked, yes.  And it was DANG hard.  But I enjoyed running the trails without negative self-talk.  I relished the dark cool forest of lower Holy Jim and then switch-back after switch-back after switch-back to the Main Divide. 

I ran Holy Jim in solitude as the sun rose above the mountains. When suddenly, I came upon 6 young men and women hiking down – pre-twenties, I’d guess.  Shocked was I!  And I learned that these “kids” began their hike up to Santiago Peak at Midnight.  And then they watched the sunrise from the highest point above Orange County.  Talk about great wholesome fun!

Headed to the Main Divide (at Bear Springs):

I finally looked upon my garmin at the Main Divide.  And I admit, I was a little disappointed that I ran it about twenty minutes slower than my fastest run up Holy Jim.  (I’m okay with that – the first time I went up Holy Jim I walked most of it!)  After exploring Bear Springs a bit, I actually found a trickle of a spring in the crack of the mountain.  Then I took off along the Main Divide with time goals in mind.  I gave myself 90 minutes to get to West Horse Thief.  It’s only about five miles, but a TOUGH five miles.  I enjoyed the up and down, mostly up.  And isn’t it weird that I made it in exactly 90 minutes?

I didn’t waste much time at the West Horse Thief trailhead.  Instead, I hopped right over the railing and headed down running as quickly as possible.  My goal was to run without the fear, and not take that rocky switch-back so slowly.  I ran, and I ran fast, focusing hard on my surroundings.  And then somewhere in that, it seemed that I grew into the mountain.  I was in the zone.  In a surreal manner, I noticed everything around me at once.  I saw the smooth places to step.  I noticed the flat spot on boulders.  And I ran so quickly over the rocks they didn’t roll.  I also noticed where horses recently fell off the trail into the ravine.  (I’ve ran that trail many times since that terrible incident occurred, and never noticed the obvious location where it occurred). 

I never tripped on my way down Horse Thief today, and I kept my speed up.  Success!  When I hit Trabuco trail I increased my speed, and ran hard all the way back to the truck.  I found it mentally tiring to stay in the moment focusing so intently.  But it was great!

Deer Staring into the Head Lights

I actually made it out the door, driving to the mountains at 4:40 AM.  So early in the morning, I drove cautiously on the lookout for drunk drivers.  But I didn’t need to worry about them.  Instead, a deer jumped out in front of me as I drove the toll road to Trabuco Canyon.  I have ALWAYS heard that if you’re going to hit a deer, don’t slam on your brakes.  If you slam on your breaks the deer will fly into your windshield upon impact.  If you can’t avoid the animal, you’re supposed to hit it head-on.  Yikes.  I would find that difficult to do. 

Fortunately, I was so cautious looking for drunk drivers, that I saw the deer before it even hopped onto the highway.  And being that I was on the road alone, I was able to tap my breaks and slow down in time.  The deer stood in the middle of my lane for a second, looking straight into my head lights, and I thought, “Oh no!  It’s going to be one of those situations – a deer staring into my headlights runs head-on into my truck.”  As it turned out, the doe turned around and hopped back over the barrier into the wilderness.

I’m rather glad that I didn’t need to hit a deer.

The sky still black when I drove into Trabuco Canyon Lot, I couldn’t see a hint of the mountain range.  Then I drove that long 4.5 mile bumpy road to the Holy Jim lot.  By the time I arrived, the sun had not risen above the horizon, but the sky was light from its morning glow.  Six other cars were parked in the lot, and that made me oh so happy!  I chatted briefly with several cyclists as they took off for a Trabuco/Holy Jim loop.

My agenda:  20 mountain miles

Of course, I included Santiago Peak in my run.  Why?  Because the peak KILLS me (that is the last 2.5 miles getting there), and also Twin Peaks Ultra goes there TWICE.  Looks like I’m the deer staring into the head lights. 

I decided to ascend West Horse Thief instead of descend today.  To get to West Horse Thief, I first needed to run 2 1/2 miles of shady, gnat-filled Trabuco Trail.  After a couple of gnats actually landed on my eyeballs, I put down the sunglasses and ran in a dark forest.   

Trabuco Trail: 

West Horse Thief in the morning was lovely.  I ran mostly in the shade with awesome valley views, and also views of Santiago Peak.  I practiced my power hike on the steepest portions and ran the less steep portions.  Before I knew it, I caught up with two of the mountain bikers I met in the parking lot.  They were flabbergasted.  “Do you ever see anyone RIDE up this trail?” they asked. 

“Only down,” I answered. 

They realized first that we met when I drove into the Holy Jim lot. 

“Hey, weren’t you guys going up Trabuco?”

“We ARE,” they both replied.

“No, you’re on West Horse Thief.”  They practically did a backflip laughing.  They laughed even louder when they asked me to describe where they went wrong.   I told them that at the sign, they needed to follow the arrow pointing to Trabuco.    Very cool guys to be able to laugh at themselves.  And friendly.   

Anyway, the best thing about West Horse Thief is that it’s getting easier, AND I’ve got it memorized, AND it’s really over before I realize it. 

Pointing out Santiago Peak from West Horse Thief:

Next up, I ran the Main Divide for several miles up to Santiago Peak (about 4.5 to Holy Jim and 2.5 more to the peak).  Heat was EXTREME.  And I passed several groups of hikers resting in the shade at the top of Holy Jim Trail.  I noticed about 3 of those hikers tying bandanas around their faces, to avoid the gnats no doubt.  I wanted to tell them that doesn’t work – I’ve tried it.  It only nearly made me suffocate.  But I decided they would learn that soon enough.  I learned the best way to deal with gnats is to breath through the nose, put up with them landing on your face, and wear earplugs for music (because they WILL fly into your ears).

About a mile away from the peak, I also met two male hikers coming down, they were so ecstatic and friendly, I asked if I knew them.  It seemed that I had to know them by the way they were acting.  They said, “No.  We just haven’t seen ANYONE, and all of a sudden here comes you, A LADY!  Great job!!!”   They knew how to do this hike, I could tell by the driven way they progressed down the trail in the heat.  

The Main Divide:

Santiago Peak:

I met even more hikers as I made my way down.  It seemed I was a novelty.  They had all come up via Holy Jim and wanted to know which way I had come.  No one had heard of West Horse Thief, and most wanted directions.  I didn’t give them the nitty gritty about how you want to die the first, second, third, etc. time you go up that trail.  But I gave them precise directions.  If they can hike to Santiago Peak, they can hike up West Horse Thief.

I took Upper Holy Jim on the way down, that very tricky single track.  I met several hikers.  I also came upon a group of young men and a few ladies resting in the shade.  They seemed the “survivalist” types, clean cut, wearing khakis with their knives in holders on their belts.  I wear mine simply clipped to my pack.  Anyway, the entire group stood up and moved so that I could pass. 

I thought that I’d make good time running down “lower” Holy Jim.  Turns out, that’s when I felt the effects of heat exhaustion begin to set in.  I felt just like I did when I DNF’d Bulldog a few years back.  I felt overheated to the core, lightheaded and wanted nothing more than to lay down in the dirt.  I put my hands on my knees and stood in the shade for a few minutes then took off, conserving fluids.  About a mile later, I caught sight of the rockslide near the spring that I often refill at and began guzzling my fluids more frequently.  At the spring, I drank up, filled two of my handhelds and emptied my shoes of rocks.  Then I drenched  my head with that cold spring water.  I also washed my face, drenched my head again and draped it with a cold, wet bandana.  I felt revived.  But not enough to run a fast pace to the canyon floor.

I took the remaining 3.5 miles at a comfortable pace, practicing my pivots at the switchbacks.  I met many suffering cyclists, all going down.  I also came upon many, many hikers going up, all seeming like they weren’t carrying nearly enough fluids.  When two cyclists passed me at a slow pace, I stepped to the edge and nearly fell back.  I felt a great camaraderie when one of the cyclists reached out to grab my hand and pull me back. Both guys apologized profusely when they didn’t do anything wrong. 

After I passed the detour to Holy Jim Falls, I came upon dozens and dozens of hikers, all making their way or leaving the falls -- more hikers than I have ever seen making the trek.  With about 1 mile remaining I crossed the creek where a male and female hiker sat down to rest on their way to the falls.  They were young, very young, probably 19 or 20.  Their hair was shiny, their skin smooth and flawless.  As they each took out a perfectly white cigarette to light up, they asked me this, “Did you run to the falls?” 

I nearly busted up laughing.  But I held it in.  I didn’t want to shame the young couple.  I mean, “Did it look like I had run 1.5 miles to the falls and was now returning?”  My clothing was crusted in salt.  My head was draped with a bandana, and I had just saved myself from heat exhaustion. 

I stopped briefly and told them where I ran and they both laughed and said, “That’s crazy!!” 

I replied, “You’re right, that is crazy; I AM crazy,” and I bid them farewell and a good time at the falls.

This running adventure should be over except for one thing.  The parking lot was full as I did some minor stretching at my truck.  I could hear a branch snapping, a distinct sound that I remember from my youth.  When I was about 17 or 18 I was playing Frisbee in the forest (yes, this is true, my husband-to-be was there as well) when suddenly we heard a loud creaking sound.  We all stopped to listen and witnessed a tree simply fall to the ground before our eyes. 

Well, I heard this exact creaking today.  And it grew frequent.  I could tell that it came from above from one of the several enormous trees that a row of cars, including mine parked beneath.  I hurried to unlock my truck and drive away when in my nervousness I fumbled.  Another woman was walking around her car.  And then we both heard it, the loud creak, then CRACK.  Having no idea where this thing might land, I ran away from the sound, to the back of my truck and stooped down beneath the truck bed.  The other lady ran too.  She hollered something out loud.  Stooped down I hollered back, “Where is it?” 

“Above the white car” she said.  With that I stood and looked up.  A huge branch had broken and was now weighing down on another over-sized branch.  That branch in turn was creaking like it would break soon too.  The other lady got out of harm’s way and paced about her van.  I drove out ASAP.  As soon as I got cell service, I phoned the ranger station number that I got from information.  They were closed!  And the recording didn’t even give me the opportunity to leave a message. 

As such was today’s lovely long run adventure.  You too can have this much fun when you hit the trails. 

I’m serious.

Thanks again for reading!