Saddleback Trail Marathon 2011

After a day-long rain storm, I went to bed quite early Friday night.  I woke every single hour, forgetting what was happening Saturday morning.  Before dozing off I thought, “What’s the big thing happening in the morning?”  The answer would quickly come to me, Saddleback Marathon,  and I’d fall promptly to sleep. 

I began my drive up the mountain in the dark, and parked the truck as the sun was rising.  No snow on the ground, but it was pretty dang cold.  I wore my warmest socks.  Wearing gloves, long sleeves and a beanie, I wrapped a scarf around my neck while waiting for “the toughest marathon in California” to begin.  I don’t personally know that this is the toughest marathon in California.  But I do know that it is the toughest marathon that I have ever run. 
 

Jeremy Howes and Jeff Trevena

About 80 of us took off on this mountain run.  My feet were numb from the cold.  I knew I had to give up my scarf, so I threw it in the back of the truck as I ran by.  A multitude of runners also threw things in their trucks and cars.  My friend Jeremy threw his jacket in his truck bed and then his distance from me grew farther and farther, just as most of the runners did.

Headed toward the Main Divide for first climb

I did not make that first climb alone.  Among the runners were 3 gentlemen from Buena Park, one of them running his 117th marathon!  I did not know it then, but several runners were behind as well.  Knowing what lay ahead I decided long ago that I’d use that first climb up the Main Divide to warm up. 

Up the Main Divide headed toward Trabuco Trail

The run down Trabuco was shady and lush, a divine sight.  I noticed frost on the ground, but didn’t stop to check it out or even take a picture.  All the runners kept bundled as they made their trip down Trabuco.  Having run that trail quite a few times, I passed about 8 runners on the way down.  Then suddenly Chris Diaz (guy wearing orange shirt in video below) was right at my heels.  I didn’t even know that Chris was behind me.  He’s a super fun trail runner that I’ve met at many races.  He always beats me, but he’s so extremely supportive and friendly it’s always a pleasure when Chris passes me!
 

By the time we reached the bottom of the hill, Chris and his friend passed me by.  But I was able to pass two ladies who walked across boulders on the flatter portions of Trabuco.  I find it easier to run across them, though by the looks of the scattered boulders, they look easier to hike. 

Aid Station at bottom of Holy Jim:

I hoped to catch up with Jeremy by the Holy Jim aid station.  No such luck.  I took a couple shots of Pepsi and took off as quickly as possible, happily leaving some ladies behind using the outhouses.  I ran all of Holy Jim, as I had been training, and as I had been training, very slowly.  I can’t take it any other way right now.  My goal was to make it from the start line to Bear Springs (Top of Holy Jim) in less than 4 hours.  (2010 it took me 4:20 to make the trek). 

One by one, the runners that I passed on the way down Trabuco began passing me going up Holy Jim.  I kept up with the Buena Park men for a while.  When I lost sight of two of them, one of the guys refused to pass me, hoping to push me along (he insisted that I was going to finish this race in 6:30 or less, where my goal was a sub 7 period).  When he took off, he darted up that switchback with animal strength.  I was amazed.

I ran much of Holy Jim solo, but could see runners in the distance, most of them hiking.  As I neared Bear Springs, I began to lose faith and doubt my ability.  I thought that I was probably in last place and started to feel sorry for myself.  “You’re not in a race against others!” I told myself.  “You’re in a race against yourself, against the mountain.”

Nearing the top, I passed an older gentleman, who gave me a friendly push from behind (not on my behind, but on my back).  I laughed and thanked him.  Utterly relieved, I made it to Bear Springs in a little less than 3.5 hours!!

The run up Holy Jim:

Bear Springs aid station:

After a couple swigs of Coca-Cola I noticed a woman that I had not seen before, reach the top of Holy Jim behind me.  Her presence sent me on my way quickly.  I felt strong and confident again.  My fingers cramped somewhat, but other than that, I had no aches and pains.  I could see some runners in the distance, and passed one or two, but I didn’t see my friend anywhere and thought that I would probably not catch Jeremy.  

I found the rolling hills along The Main Divide a nice break.  Then at one point, gosh, I’m not even sure now when it was, I think it was heading up to Trabuco Peak, I spotted Jeremy.  I worked long and hard to catch him, staying to the side, hidden by the brush.  My plan was to surprise him by suddenly appearing next to him.  Every time though it seemed that I closed the gap, he would get out farther ahead.  Finally as I ran up, he turned around and saw me before I could surprise him. 

I had to fill up with fluids at the next aid station, and Jeremy was off again, disappearing from sight on the mountainside.  I found myself joking around again and stayed a bit longer at the aid station than I should have.  I took “shots” of Coca-Cola like a drunkard at a bar taking shots of Tequila. 

When I took off again, I was quick on my feet.  I wanted to pass everyone who had passed me at the last aid station.  I felt the strength and I was going to use it and ran as fast as I could, focusing on the slightly rocky terrain.  Then all of a sudden I flew through the air and comically hit the ground making a graceful roll in the dirt.  Except for a tiny scrape, there was no injury, but my calf cramped up.  (I joked at the next aid station that it was a ballerina fall).  I jumped up and continued my run as quickly as before I fell.    I passed all of the runners who passed by me at the last aid station.  I gave Jeremy a thumbs-up when I finally caught him and continued on running with strength that at this point I didn’t realize I’d have.  (Last year about here, I was ready to drop to the dirt). 

View from the Main Divide:

I ran along joyfully (seriously!), trying to close the gap between me and one other runner out there on the Main Divide that I could see in front of me.  I didn’t realize the runner was Chris at the time.  When I reached the top of the last hill, I caught up with that runner.  That’s when I realized who it was.  I took off running, giddy that I had a lead on Chris Diaz! 

I ran those last 4 miles as fast as I could.  When I’d peek behind me, Chris was no where in sight.  Then all of a sudden I noticed two women within striking distance behind me.  That got me moving faster.  I didn’t even look at my garmin to notice my time.  Suddenly all that mattered was not letting those two (I’m sure very nice) women pass me. 

I rounded the corner onto the asphalt with relief.  Still, I knew that those women could appear any time.  I ran down that pavement toward the last single-track, slowing some.  Then OUT OF NOWHERE, Chris appeared at my side.  “Dang!”  I said.  He laughed and as we both entered that single-track” he said, “Together, we’ll do this together.”  But I was in no shape to keep up with him that last half mile or so.  And I happily watched his lead grow. 

As soon as I crossed the finish line, I asked for my time.  My jaw dropped when I was told 6:01!  6:01!  I could have cried if I wasn’t so dang happy.  FINALLY, I had made a goal that I set out to accomplish.  I wanted to kill last years’ time.  I would have considered “killing” the time by beating it thirty minutes.  I truly amazed myself and did more than that – I shattered last years’ time by 1 hour and 25 minutes! 

My friend Jeremy also shattered his time by about an hour:

Saddleback Trail Marathon 2011 The Movie : )

My official time was:  6:01:55.  Out of 81 starters, 80 finished.  I placed 69.   (In 2010 my time was 7:26:23 for this trail marathon) 

ps.  I have one more thing to write.  This may seem dorky to include, especially for me, it’s not like I’m a placer.  But I have lots of people to thank who helped me train for this race by getting up before sunrise and running up in those mountains – Tom Bychowski, Michael Perlongo, Hank Guardado, many others too many to name, and lastly but definitely not least, Jeremy Howes who spent many, many hours with me running those mountains in the rain, in the heat, with enormous gnats and scary pitbulls, and freaky (yet cute) salamanders, downhill storming deer, and a few of my clumsy falls.  : )  Thanks!  I really couldn’t have done it without you guys.

Twin Peaks Pacer Recap

Right now, I cannot write an entry that adequately relays my experience as a Twin Peaks pacer.  I seriously feel that it would take an entire book.  I’ll call this a “recap.”

Pacers waited for their runners at the Horsethief aid station where a friendly crew, including 2 radio men were already several hours into their all-day shift.  If you read my blog regularly you might remember the words Horsethief Trail.  Sometimes I call it West Horsethief.  Sometimes I separate the word into Horse Thief.  Either way you say it though, that trail is truly hell.  It’s a rocky, switchback that climbs and climbs with plenty of false summits and NO RELIEF in elevation gain.  And there’s very, very little shade.  Though it’s a little less than 2 miles long (I believe), I pretty much hate Horsethief, and currently, it’s the only trail that I can think of that I would say that about. 

Needless to say, I was thrilled to learn that pacers meet their runners at the TOP of Horsethief.  There, we waited and we waited.  We talked, we laughed, we ate candy.  Then finally, the front runner came up the beast called Horsethief.  He was suffering some, but looked strong.  Strong enough to smile (See photo of Dean below).  He had quite a lead on the second place runner.  Then another significant amount of time passed.  That’s when I began walking the trail, to the edge before it radically descended.  Scott Barnes came around that corner, smiling and looking cool and calm.  I thought he looked familiar, then realized I knew him when he said, “Lauren?”  What a thrill it was to see Scott in third place, even more thrilling to give him that news.  He seemed shocked.

Finish/Start line, Race Operations:

Race Director Jessica Deline:

Volunteers (Pacers, sweeper, etc):

West Horsethief Aid Station, First Place runner, Dean Dobberteen:

Looking down at Horsethief (toward very end of trail, where the runners finally got some relief):

The Radio Guys at Horsethief Aid Station:

Waiting at the top, checking trail for runners coming up:

Scott Barnes, 3rd Place (coming up Horsethief, see prior blog post where I was fortunate to train with Scott):

After Scott, the trails were silent.  An entire hour or more must have passed before runners began dribbling in.  Some looked okay, others looked like death, having climbed to mile 33/34.  All runners took time to rest.  Some took lengthy rests.  Some recovered well and took off somewhat strong.  Others didn’t seem to recover as well and took off slowly walking.  Other runners dropped from the race and waited for a ride down.  Some of the runners smiled.  Some of them scowled.  One runner looked at us and first thing he said was “I hate everyone who has anything to do with Twin Peaks.”

The runners came in “far and few between” and more and more of them looked like the walking dead.  There was a report of a runner laying in the trail and station worker Christine went off to get him.  About that time I strapped on my gear and decided to head down Horsethief.  I knew Hank had to be having a hard time of it.  I hoped that I could help.

On the way down I saw Greg Hardesty (OC Register sports writer) whom I’ve met on a few occasions and have never seen him less than cheery.  Not today.  Today he mumbled something like, “I hate this trail,” yet he kept on trucking.

It hurt to see the suffering as I made my way down Horsethief.  Here and there I’d come upon a runner.  He would be sitting on the side.  Or he would be staggering side to side.  I saw Christine slowly walking up the young runner that she found laying in the trail.  As I descended, I kept a lookout for a white cap.  Turns out, just about everyone I came across was wearing a white cap. 

The descent down Horsethief was surreal.  I’ve never been in a war zone.  But this trail seemed so much like a path of the walking wounded, like I was making my way to the battlefield past these runners who were struggling on to safety.  I grew a little worried the more I descended. 

Then finally I saw Hank.  He was not staggering.  But I could tell, he was spent.  Quite frankly, I was elated, so, so happy that he had his wits about him, he wasn’t staggering, or worse yet, laying on the trail.  I gave him a quick hug, and got behind him and began the march up, telling him each time he asked, “how much longer?”

Runner finishing up Horsethief:

Runners taking a breather before heading off:

Another runner makes it to the top of Horsethief:

First female runner makes it to top of Horsethief (right), Christine pours water on Rob’s neck (see prior blog where I came across Rob on Main Divide):

Catra Corbett and Andy Kumede:

More runners finishing up Horsethief:

Taking off for another trip to the peak:

Heading down Horsethief to meet up with Hank:

Meeting runners along the way:

At the top of Horsethief Hank took little time, and we were off.  The moon came out early and the weather began to cool.  As the sun went down, I felt relieved that I knew those trails well.  Hank was using all his energy to move onward as quickly as possible, one thing he didn’t need to worry about was which way to turn.

The amount of suffering I witnessed on those trails were immense.  Remember, this race had about 15,000 to 17,000 feet of elevation gain and 52 miles to cover.  Hank’s determination was amazing.  I hoped that I was helping.  I think I did somewhat, especially with direction.  I tried to be sensitive and slow down when he needed it and stop talking when he couldn’t take hearing another person’s voice at the moment.  Still, I think there were times when I talked/joked a little too much.  But we also had some miles of silence.

Taking off on the Main Divide with Hank:

The moon shows its face:

It grew dark well before we made our descent down the mountain.  Tiny white, orange and yellow lights glittered from thousands of feet below from Los Angeles, Orange and Riverside Counties.  With headlamps and flashlights we continued the climb.  Then as we made our descent, the stations began closing up.  Word was, the sweeper truck was going to start picking up runners.  And so the race was on as we ran from the sweeper truck.  It seemed like we literally flew down Upper Holy Jim, a single track that the truck couldn’t drive, but the running sweepers were close behind.  I’m truly amazed how Hank was able to kick it in and pull out a burst of energy as we jumped and stumbled over rocks on that single track down. 

The sweepers caught up with us around Indian Truck Trail (the last 6.5 miles).  They were two great guys who ran along with us.  One of them took off, and sweeper Tim ran along with us for the longest 6.5 miles EVER.  I had no doubt that Hank would cross the finish line.  He had already proven his determination.  Still, I was amazed that he had anything left. 

Then finally through the dark, we saw a light and ran in over that finish line.  Hank’s wife and daughter were waiting there like two angels in the light, so happy to finally see him.  They said that they could see our lights as we travelled down the mountain and couldn’t believe what we were doing, what he was doing.  I only ran a little under twenty miles of this trek.  I had the easy part. 

It was finally over.  My friend Hank crossed the finish line of Twin Peaks 50 at a little after 10:00 PM.  Though he crossed the line last, which crossing that finish line in general is a HUGE accomplishment, he did not actually have the longest time due to the early starts  who began the race at 5:30 AM instead of 7:00 AM.  Hank placed 36 out 44 finishers.  86 runners started this 50+ mile race.  44 finished.  Others dropped to a 50k option, and others dropped entirely. 

Congratulations Hank.  You did it!!  I’m not sure that I will honor your request that the next time you mention a fifty mile race that I’m to tell you “shut up.”  LOL.  Rest up, friend.

Hank with race director, Jessica:

Tim, the patient sweeper – good luck on your first Iron Man!:

At finish line with Hank:

Bulldog? What’s She Talking About?

I’ve mentioned Bulldog quite a bit lately without any explanation what I mean.  Most Southern California trail runners know exactly what I’m talking about.   For me, Bulldog is my nemesis.  Specifically the Bulldog 50k trail race in late August. 

To begin, Bulldog is a dirt road that is a little over 3 miles in Malibu Creek State Park, Calabasas California.  It’s a nice wide fire road, not technical at all, except there’s pretty much NO relief going up.  There’s little shade, and it’s STEEP as it takes you up into the Santa Monica Mountains.

Several races throughout the year go up or down Bulldog to complete a loop with awesome mountain and ocean views.  Once you get to the top of Bulldog, there’s still more climbing.  There’s hornets and bees during the summer time.  And it’s HOT.  Especially during August.

The official “Bulldog Race” takes place at the end of August, usually the hottest month in Southern California.  Trail Run Events hold a 25k and 50k.  I’ve run the 25k at least twice and DNF’d the 50k last year due to heat exhaustion.  This year is the 20th anniversary of Bulldog 25k/50k.

Xterra also puts on a 22k that goes up Bulldog.  I run that race in the spring, which means the weather is somewhat cooler.  But the race is still tough.  I’ve run Xterra’s “Bulldog” Malibu Creek race 3 times. 

Coastal Trail Runs also puts on a 25k and 50k in Malibu State Creek Park during the fall.  This race reverses the loop, meaning you run down Bulldog.  The race is much more pleasurable running up the Santa Monica Mountains.  HOWEVER, running down Bulldog is quite the quad killer.  I ran this race last year (and was stung by the same hornet twice going up “Backbone Trail”.) 

As I mentioned in previous blogs, after my 50k drop, I was so sick both physically and (somewhat emotionally) that I thought, or rather swore, that I would never attempt Bulldog 50k again (I’m too chicken!).  But semi-recently I’ve begun heat training with the hopes of perhaps attempting the 50k this August once again.  As of now, I’m not so sure what I’m going to do.  Even if I can get used to running in the heat, the cut-offs are tough for me.  Those of you who know me, know that I’m not that quick.

I’ll probably wait until the last minute to decide whether to register.  Hopefully by then, it won’t be sold out. 

ps.  the 50k is 2 loops of the 25k, giving the 50k about 5,000 feet of elevation gain.

Perhaps I’ll see you there.

Xterra 22k, Malibu Creek

I could not take a bus to today’s race.  I could not take a train.  I did not even consider a cab, as the cost would surely be outrageous.  I needed to travel about 100 miles.  And so I relented and rented a car.

After bathing early last night, I tucked in about 9 PM.  Though the household was quite loud, being Friday night with 3 boys owning weekend bedtimes, I fell asleep pretty quickly, partly because I forced myself not to nap midday. 

I woke to a 4AM alarm, casually dressed.  I drank 2 cups of coffee, packed the car.  Then after placing my hands on all three boys’ chests to make sure they were breathing, I kissed my husband good-bye (as he slept) and drove away in the dark at 5:00 AM

Everything went grand at first.  I drank my breakfast along the way (a protein shake), and then about 45 minutes later, the 405 freeway came to a halt.  We lost one lane at a time, until just one remained.  And then . . . AND THEN, the entire freeway, all lanes, were closed, and we were routed onto surface streets.  With much time lost in the traffic jam, I followed the orange detour signs diligently, until THEY VANISHED. 

Okay, it looked like I wasn’t going to make the race.  I had no idea how far away Interstate 5 was, so I did what I didn’t want to do.  I called my husband at 6:00 AM!!!  I felt terrible about this, REALLY.  The whole reason I rented a car was not to inconvenience my family.  Well, to make a long story short, he got on the computer and suggested continuing east to the 5.  Whereas, I opted to hop onto the 605 and head back to the 405.  Ends up my choice was good.  But I was way, way behind schedule. (And I didn’t need to call and wake hubby after all!)

I admit that I drove over the speed limit the remainder of the way.  About 15 miles over the speed limit.  And I still wasn’t sure I’d make it. 

What a morning!  I arrived to the park and found a space far from check-in. Stupidly Not thinking, I left my pack in the car and checked in.  Turns out the line was long, and I had to run back to the car.  And then . . . AND THEN the bathroom lines were enormous (as the 6k runners were prepping for their race), so I tucked into the thorny bushes for a pit stop.  Then running off to the start line, I realized that I LEFT MY BIB IN THE CAR.

Off back to the car I ran (a good 1/3 mile), grabbed my bib and then ran all the way to the Start Line (probably a whole mile!)  It was just like a dream that I usually have before a race.  If this was a chip-timed race, I wouldn’t have minded.  But this was gun-time only, meaning my time started the minute the race started, NOT THE MOMENT THAT I ACTUALLY STEPPED OVER THE START LINE.  

Luckily, the race start was several minutes behind and I started off on-time, but a bit breathless.

I will say this.  I felt fine.  The weather was delightful – cool and cloudy.  Bulldog wasn’t so tough either.  Wait.  It was tough, but it was easier than it ever has been for me.  I remember thinking only once, “I HATE BULLDOG.”  Then I laughed out loud over the fact that I keep returning.  When it got tough and I hiked (and that was often, though I ran more of it than I ever have), I said loudly in my head, “HIKE AS FAST AS YOU CAN LAUREN!”  And I did.

Amazingly, I saw runners going up with no water.  Others ran with just a single water bottle, that was now empty.  I felt terrible for them.  I saw runners staggering, and wondered why it took me so long to pass them. 

At the top of Bulldog, an aid station volunteer said to me, “This is not a race to improve your time on . . . this is a race to DO.”

Heading up into the Santa Monica Mountains

Going up Bulldog Rd.

I recovered quickly at the top of Bulldog Road.  And I actually ran pretty much the entire ridge.  I enjoyed myself so much that I found myself running lackadaisically.  “This is a race, woman!”  I told myself more than once.  “Pick it up, you can run faster than this!”  And therefore I did.  

At the bottom of the mountains, I got to talking with a road runner on her first trail race (a young woman, not a bird).  She just happen to pick this particular race – “Do you know that you picked the toughest trail race of this distance around?”

“I KNOW NOW.”  She was bloody from a recent fall.  And she was so happy when I told her that we were going to do some road running in a bit.  When we hit the road, she blasted ahead.  And then back on the trail, we both, at different times, took the same wrong turn.  According to my garmin, we took A HALF MILE detour.  Finally, we made it together to the base of Backbone.  And I told her, one great thing about trail racing is the stories you get to tell afterward.

She didn’t find our detour very amusing.  But she laughed and said, “Keep telling me good things about trail running, because I can’t find anything good right now.”

Amazingly I ran all the way up Backbone – that’s a first.  And I ran back into the finish feeling strong, not dead-dog tired, where I’m going to fall to the ground, like I usually do on this loop.  I felt good. 

Miles logged:  14.17 (a little more than planned).  I only increased my time by a little less than 5 minutes, so I still came in toward the back of the pack.  That is a little disappointing to me.  But I can’t deny the fact that I had a great deal of fun.  And I felt strong.  And most importantly, Bulldog didn’t beat me up and spit me out.  I recovered very quickly after Bulldog and raced on with pretty good speed afterward.  So the fact that my time improvement was only minimal is disappointing at this late hour, many plus points came out of this race.  And lest I forget!  I took a half mile detour by taking that wrong turn.  So maybe I would have beaten my time by 10 minutes instead of 5.  Who knows.  All I know is that I did it.  I went up Bulldog once again!  Will I ever improve any more than this?  I hope so.  But what I hope more is that I continue to enjoy the adventure. (video at the end of this post)

Elevation Profile

Oh the fun!

The Great Silverado Footrace

Today was my third year running the Great Silverado Footrace, put on by Race Director, Chay Peterson.  First off, before I write another word, let me show you this:

Notice that first hill.  Now, Chay is not an evil woman.  In fact, she’s very nice.  So why’d she do it???  Perhaps it was to wake us up.  Or maybe it was to make the rest of the run seem “easy.”  No, I think it was for the challenge.  Someone yelled from behind as we made that climb, '”Mankind is so stupid!.”  We all laughed.  I’m sure inside we all knew the truth, the truth that John F. Kennedy once told this nation, “ . . . we do it not because it is easy, but because it is hard . . .”

Despite that first hill (though now that it’s over, it wasn’t that difficult), I had lots of fun.  The race is split into two parts.  The first loop being the longest, my garmin showed: 9.83 total miles with +3,763 elevation gain.  That’s a heck of a lot of elevation gain for less than ten miles!

Anyone who likes a true adventure and the toughest terrain should try this race.  I crawled, I bushwhacked.  I slipped and landed on my butt.  I fell.  A branch whacked my eyeball.  I took off my gloves for a minute, slipped and gashed my hand.  Some downhills were so steep, I placed my foot beneath my upper thigh and slid down on my bottom.  I took in awesome scenery spotted with spring flowers.  I laughed.  I joked.  I climbed up a rope.  I tore my clothes, shredded my socks.  And I said a few cuss words. 

Best of all, I raced.  I didn’t plan on racing.  I merely planned on finishing both loops.  But it seemed that one runner targeted me, and then there were three of us running side by side.  And I was so dang tired, I thought to myself, “Heck, just let them take it”.  Then I thought to myself, “No way!  You can run for hours Lauren, maybe they can’t!”  And so on the next uphill, I didn’t slow and lost the two who had been at my heals for at least an hour. I didn’t see them again for the remainder of the race.

Chay Gives Race Directions (she’s the leprechaun)

Racers (& Sweeps) load up in trucks & head out to Start Line

That First Big Climb

I accomplished my goal this year and completed both loops of The Great Silverado Footrace.  It was hard, and it hurt at times.  I have some ugly bruises and cuts.  I had to throw away my socks.  But I am fine.  And I am dang proud.  Proud that I finished both loops, and the vast majority of the second loop completely by myself. 

If I can, I will be back for a 4th year.  Maybe I’ll see you there too!

The Movie 

Fun, fun, fun in Silverado Canyon