I Don’t Need No Stinkin’ Camera (Yes I do!)

Sunday night I drove the household crazy with neurotic behavior trying to fix my cameras.  I was wrong in my last blog when I said that I’ve killed two cameras on the trail.  I forgot about the first camera I killed on the trail.  It was during my first long distance trail race, my first Calico Ghost Town race.  (Calico Trail Run 2009 – who knows how long MySpace is going to keep my old blogs up : )  I have killed THREE cameras on the trail.

There I sat Sunday night, trying to align the lenses on two of my broken cameras.  Beep, beep, beep.  Beep, beep, beep.  Next thing I knew, I was unscrewing tiny screws and taking the newest of my broken cameras apart, which completely unnerved my husband.  “You need to do that at a table . . . you need better light.” 

Yikes!  I was about to hit the roof.  THE CAMERA IS BROKEN.  Who cares if I lose a screw or mess up.  But I just may luck out and get that lens to snap back into place.  Thing was, after dismantling the camera, I couldn’t get the lens to extend.  And so, DUH!  I put the battery in the camera, and while messing around I gave myself a good shock!  Or shall I say, bad shock?

That was that with the camera.  I wept over my shock scare and for my silly loss and went to bed.

I woke this morning (Tuesday) and went for a much needed run in Aliso/Wood Canyons.  I didn’t dare bring hubby’s professional camera.  I’d kill that camera for sure, it’s just so huge.  It really didn’t matter that much anyway, it’s not like I haven’t taken thousands of pictures of these trails. 

The weather was cold, the park festive with runners, bikers and hikers.  I wore my pack, not because I needed it (because there’s a place to refill a handheld at Top of the World).  I wore my pack because I prefer to run empty-handed.  And though I didn’t have my camera in my vest pockets, I had my phone – my cracked and beat-up phone which has a camera.  It even has a video camera.  Ha! (Why is my phone cracked and beat-up – ahhhhhh, because I’ve dropped it countless times).

Running Aliso Creek Trail ready to disappear into the fog:

I ran up Meadows this morning, the trail that use to taunt me.  And I ran up it with relative ease.  It’s a beautiful trail.  I’m happy to have conquered it.  This morning it was like a spoonful of medicine.

View going up Meadows:

View from top of Meadows:

I ran across Top of the World with joy in my heart.  I was making good time.  So good, that I thought that I’d extend my loop a little and run West Ridge to Rock It. 

Occasionally all the things that I need to do would pop into my mind.  But the trails pretty much succeeded in wiping my mind clean.  Ah, a blank mind, just simply in the moment.  LOVE IT!

Breakfast at Top of the World:

West Ridge view of Modjeska and Santiago Peaks:

For new visitors, this is the most exciting section of Rock It.  For returning visitors, here’s YET ANOTHER PICTURE of Rock It Trail:

Finishing off Rock It Trail leading to Coyote Run:

Finishing up Coyote Run:

Another glorious trail run this holiday season.  Stay-tuned, as I've joined Jessica Deline’s challenge Streaking in the New Year.

Miles run:  11.18 (approx. 18 km)

Maple Springs / Modjeska Peak Out-And-Back

I look forward to my mountain runs.  I enjoy them so much that occasionally I break the cardinal rule – the buddy rule.  Always run with someone.  Problem is, sometimes I find it difficult to find a buddy to run mountain trails.  That’s understandable.  It just takes so much time out of the day, not to mention, it’s a tough feat.

Since I broke the cardinal rule today, I was sure to run prepared on this early morning, cold-weathered run.  Funny thing . . . I took off onto Maple Springs the same time as a Boy Scout Troop.  They were on their third training hike for an upcoming 70 mile hike.  For those unfamiliar with the Scouts, their motto is “Be Prepared” and their number one rule is the “buddy system.” (I was a Scout as a child).

Heading up Maple Springs alongside the “boys” (& men):

I ran the canyon (which is mainly paved) without music because I wanted complete awareness of my surroundings.  I figured if I’m going to get into trouble (ie. mountain lion, a human with bad intent, etc) it’s going to be in the canyon with its high mountain walls and overall enclosed feeling. 

But I did not fear.  The canyon was breathtakingly beautiful.  The maple’s yellow leaves had mostly turned brown.  The creek ran strong.  Colorful birds swooped down onto the road and rustled about in the brush.  Good thing I know that birds make loud sounds in the brush.  Used to be I didn’t know the difference between the sound of a bird/small animal in the brush (because they are noisy) compared to a larger animal, say a buck.  It’s kind of like knowing the sound of a rattlesnake.  Before I knew what their rattles sounded like, EVERYTHING sounded like a rattlesnake – cicadas sounded like rattlesnakes.  Once you hear a rattler’s rattle though, you KNOW exactly what it sounds like.

Long after passing the Boy Scouts, I heard something loud tramping through the brush and I knew it was not a bird or squirrel.  It was branch-breaking loud and it stopped me in my tracks.  I listened for a bit, looked closely down at the stream, then took off cautiously up the canyon.  I figured it was probably a deer as I’ve heard that kind of loud, almost clumsy, branch-breaking sound before, and it was always a deer.  Still, I’ve never heard a mountain lion make its way through the brush, so there’s always that fear.  So, I took out my pepper spray, made sure my knife was in instant reach and continued up the canyon.

Scenes from the canyon:

Attempting a stream pose:

A Grand Ole’ Tree:

Camera timer is ticking & I can’t make it to the spot in time : )

The climb to the Main Divide was peaceful.  It’s loneliness was lovely.  I dropped my camera once.  I took in awesome mountain views of several Southern California counties.  Pretty much nothing ran through my mind.  And even though I carried a pack on my back, Maple Springs lifted all my weight off my shoulders.   

I noticed gray, bushy-tailed squirrels scurry up and down trees.  I saw these wonderful black and white birds with red head-tops that I’ve never seen before.  And I saw snow in the distance! 

A perfect place for a picnic (or photo):

Quickly scrambling for my camera to catch this shot of the moon as the clouds swiftly moved to cover it:

Nearing the top of Maple Springs:

I reached the top of Maple Springs and the Main Divide, a place known as “Four Corners” at the same time as a group of runners came up Harding Truck Trail.  They were a happy bunch.  When I asked if they were part of a running group, one guy answered, “No, we’re just a bunch of dumb asses who thought it was a good idea to run up here in the freezing cold.” 

I might add that it was dang cold on the Main Divide and the wind blew fiercely.  “Well,” I answered, “I’m a dumb ass who thought it was a good idea to do it alone.”  They took off ahead of me to Modjeska Peak while I attempted another posed picture that didn’t turn out so great.  But I didn’t want to mess around too much trying to get a good picture, as dark clouds were rolling in, and I could see a rainbow in the distance.  I did not want to run down this mountain in a storm.

Meeting some runners as they come up Harding Truck Trail to Four Corners intersection:

Four Corners before taking off to Modjeska Peak:

I ran up to Modjeska Peak joyfully, taking so many pictures of the snow that you’d think I’d never seen snow.  I’ve seen plenty of snow in my life.  BUT I have never run trails in the snow.  There wasn’t a lot of snow, but the thrill of it made me forget about that wind whipping my hair onto my face. 

When I reached the peak, the group of runners were starting to make their way down.  I took a couple photos, then dropped my camera.  That was the end of my camera.  I couldn’t get it to work after that. (That’s number two camera killed on the trail!)

View from Modjeska Peak:

Santiago Peak behind me:

The weather grew colder as I ran down the mountain.  About 1 or 2 miles down a biker making his way up said, “Lauren?  Is that Lauren?  I thought I saw your truck.” 

I wasn’t in thinking mode at the moment and wondered, “Who do I know that rides?  Think, think, think . . . “  I couldn’t think of anyone!  And then as I approached I couldn’t believe my luck.  It was my good friend Tom Fangrow!  I laughed out loud.  What are the chances that we would meet on this empty, freezing cold mountain road?  To me the chances seemed pretty slim.  I just had to have a picture of this chance meeting, but with my camera broken thought that wasn’t going to happen until I remembered my phone!  And click, I had it.  Tom was off for a big loop, down some very tricky switch back that we ran together with some other friends two summers ago.  I could barely do it back then.  And I was off down Maple Springs for the remaining 6 or so miles. 

Meeting Tom on the Trail:

Another delightful run for the records; this one was finished off with light rain.  18.06 miles (29.07 km) ran happily, joyfully, playfully . . .

Recovery Run

Monday I rested.  I mean REALLY rested.  After getting the boys off to school, I returned to the bed and slept until about noon.  I was probably asleep for the night by 9:00 PM.

Tuesday I played gym rat:  cardio, stretching, strengthening and ab work.  That evening I returned from my job at 6:30 and was in bed by 8:30 PM.

Wednesday I hit the dirt for my recovery run:

I visited some of my favorite spots, and . . . well, I guess that’s all I have to say about that. 

Some scenes:

Valley of the Giants Marathon

When my cellphone alarm sang out this morning, I had to think hard.  Get the boys to school?  Run?  Then I looked at the time and saw 4AM and immediately knew, A RACE.  It took me one or two seconds to recall which race, and I thought to myself, “Oh crap.”

Crazy Elevation profile of this marathon:

Normally I love trails, as you are aware if you’ve read this blog.  But this race took place in the San Gabriel Mountains.  I’ve NEVER run those mountains.  I like racing on trails that I know “like the back of my hand.” 

It was cold at the base of the mountains in Rancho Cucamonga.  My good friend, Kurt F. came out to meet me near the start line, as lucky for me, he only lives a couple blocks away from the race.  (Kurt is one of my oldest continuous friends.  We met when I was TWELVE YEARS old).

Among the runners I saw some people I recognized from volunteering Twin Peaks 2 years ago.  I also saw Mark Ryne who I first met at Barstow’s “Get Your Kicks on Route 66 half marathon” a few years back.  I saw Steve Harvey, the race director of so many hardcore races in my local mountains.

Raring (Ha!) to go, at Start Line (Mark Ryne’s photo):

Fellow trail runner, Mark:

The morning was lovely, clear and cold with no wind.  We began on a slight decline, then climbed for about a mile and a half.  Then we ran downhill for about two miles.  “Remember this,” I told myself “You’re going to have to climb out in the end.” 

The 29 racers spread out quickly, and for a long while, I had two runners behind me, and one a ways up front that I could see.  I tried to catch him for a long time.  I closed the gap on every uphill, but then on the descents he blew me away. 

Gorgeous Views:

The Santa hat and long sleeves come off!:

I ran fire roads, lovely forest paths where I could hear the stream flowing strong.  I ran up a single track, and along rock mountainsides.  I crossed creeks and ran along cliffs and then a long descent into the halfway mark.  Thorns from a wild rose (I think) tore at the back of my calves and drew blood.  But other than that, my first half of the race was fun and carefree.  I didn’t make the time I planned but how could I have possibly known, being I didn’t know what lay ahead.  The cut off for 13.1 miles was 3 and a half hours.  After my first hour running, I calculated making the half in three hours.  I made it in at 3 hours 22 minutes, and there was the guy I had been trying to catch for so long.  We spoke briefly then he raced off while I chugged down some Coca-Cola. 

13.1 miles!!!  Awesome aid station workers to greet us:

After leaving the station, I had about 2 miles of uphill running which I used to my advantage to catch the guy ahead of me.  I passed Mark on the way as he came in to the half way mark.  We both took a few pics and I continued to work on lengthening my lead on the guy I had passed.  I knew I needed to get the lead as big as possible or else he’d pass me on the next downhill.

Heading back and working on “the pass”:

Mark crossing stream, very close to halfway point (probably half a mile):

Quick pose as I continue to make my way back up the mountain (Mark’s photo):

At about mile 16, I made the big descent and I ran “like a bat out of hell,” because I didn’t know how close that quick downhill runner was to me.  I never looked back once I passed.  I tripped several times, but never fell.  Then as I began to bottom out before the next climb, I had to duck beneath some branches.  I glanced down at my garmin to calculate whether I’d make 6 hours.  There was a slight, very slight chance.  That’s when I looked back up and slammed, I mean slammed my head into a large branch.  It seemed like I could hear my skull crush and my brain rattle (of course they didn’t), but the impact really dinged me.  At first, I started to cry but quickly stopped the sobbing and headed off a bit slower.  I began to see purple spots and worried the head impact caused some damage.  But immediately after downing a gel, the purple spots in my vision disappeared. 

Still, I wasn’t the same.  Eventually, I was able to pick up my speed again, but the climb was uphill again.  I was completely alone, realizing now that I was never going to make 6 hours.  My spirits began to drop until I heard someone hooting and hollering.  I knew I was close to the next aid station.  When I reached the single-manned station at the top of the climb, I inquired whether he could see any other runners behind me through his binoculars.  He said that he could see me running for a long time and pointed out the vast mileage as I looked down upon it in kind of a disbelief.  And he had seen no other runners behind me.  At that point I felt safe, thanked him for his hospitality and headed off downhill toward the next climb back to the finish line.

Well, LET ME TELL YOU miles 22 through 24+ were pretty much HELL.  Time travelled so very slowly.   My left ankle was sore, my right knee ached.  Every time I turned a corner I thought for sure the last mile and a half descent would begin.  I turned corner after corner, my spirits dropping, dropping, dropping.  That’s when I wanted to take the “Race director’s name in vain,” (something another race director, Jessica Deline wrote that I now understand).  I thought to myself, “Does he think this is funny???”  When I turned one of the last corners and saw that the climb continued, I actually exclaimed, “F***!!”  And I stopped running for about twenty steps.  Then I picked up my feet, kicked out the back and continued the ascent.     

I was so dang happy to see that final downhill.  But I have to write even that last mile and a half or so, really crept by.  The race director, James Schoelles, ran me up to the finish line.  I wasn’t mad at him anymore (Seriously, he put on a top-notch race).  You can’t believe how very happy I was to have finished.  No, I didn’t get the honored DFL (there were still 3 more runners to cross the finish line – and they all did : )  My time:  6:34.

Running UP HILL into the finishing line, filming race director, James Schoelles as he photos me (James’s photo): (Oh and NOTE TO SELF:  GET YOUR HEAD UP LAUREN!)

And of course, the movie!!