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.

Running Against the Clock

Since I no longer possess a gym membership, my small attempts at speed training have gone by the wayside.  I don’t mind that because I hate speed training.  Still, I like to keep up with some runners once in a while.  But more so, I like to have fun on my runs, which means no speed training.

In spring 2011, I got on a kick of timing a particular loop in Aliso/Wood Canyons.  On my first timing, I ran it in 2:24:35.  On my last timing I ran it in 2 hours!  Since then, though I’ve run the loop plenty of times, I was afraid to time myself.  Two hours was dang difficult, and I didn’t want to come in with a slower time.

This morning, I took to running that loop against the clock once again.  Yes, I was fearful, but more curious.  My biggest fear was that I had backslid all the way back to 2:24 or worse.  So, I decided after a day of Meadows hill repeats with an aching arch, working til 6:30 PM, then sipping cheap wine with my hubby until midnight, that this morning would be an ideal day to time this loop again (And again, WHAT WAS I THINKING?  The story of my life.  LOL).

If you know Aliso/Wood, this is my 9.5 mile loop:  Enter the canyon via Canyon Vistas Park, run down Wood Canyon to the very end, passing Meadows along the way, then turning around and running back to Meadows up to the ridge, exiting the park to run the roads and re-entering the park at Alta Laguna where I run West Ridge’s rolling hills to Cholla, a nice downhill which leads to a climb back out through Canyon Vistas.  It’s a tough run for me, but it’s no mountain run.  Running it fast of course, makes it even tougher.  (I should note that I never pause or stop my garmin, even if I make a pit stop, take a picture or take something out of my pack, the reason being that in races, they don’t stop the clock when I do these things.)

I kicked it in through most of Wood Canyon, clicking my camera here and there without stopping.  I slowed a bit entering Meadows so that I could re-coop.  Then I pushed it up that horrible climb in the sun.  Yesterday that climb wasn’t so horrible.  And I even ran it three times.  But today, after running Wood Canyon at a 10k pace, Meadows about did me in.

By the time I climbed out of Meadows and made my way back into the park for a rolling hill run, I was darn near about to quit.  I really could have plopped myself down in the dirt and cuddled up into a ball for a nice nap.  But I just couldn’t quit.  Why?  Because I told myself that I was doing this!

I made it to the top of Meadows in 1:03, which I BELIEVE, is one minute slower than my record.  But then, I set foot on West Ridge about 5 or 6 minutes slower than my record, and proceeded to lose time after that.  As it ended, I finished this loop in 2:09, wanting to quit even up until the last quarter mile.  Though I was miserable for practically this entire run, I felt dang good and happy for the drive home.  Maybe, just maybe, I’ll do one or two more timed loops over the next 3 weeks.

Fresh & clean as I began this run into Wood Canyon:

Creek Crossing on Wood Canyon Trail:

A sweaty dog (me) as I stopped quickly to pose this picture before conquering Meadows:

Crossing over Meadows the land of the beautiful, to Meadows the land of evil trolls:

Running up Meadows (no the camera is not slanted, the ground is):

More of Meadows:

Running down Cholla Trail:

The end (& that’s quite ENOUGH of that!):

Elevation Profile:

It’s That Time Again: Repeats

This morning I thought it was about that time again – time again for hill repeats.  The San Juan 50k is just about 3 weeks off and I’m ALMOST freaking out.  That race climbs more than 6,400 feet in 50 kilometers (Aren’t we Americans funny, mixing measuring systems – that’s about 1,950 meters in around 31 miles ). 

I chose Meadows Trail in Aliso Canyon today to run my repeats because it’s close to the home and it’s steep.  The portion of the trail that I repeat is about 1 mile and climbs more than 700 feet (that’s more than 213 meters of a climb over 1.6 kilometers.) 

So, I hit Aliso Creek Trail (which starts off paved) and raced this critter to Wood Canyon:

I met a lovely woman (Lorraine) at Wood Canyon.  She wanted a nice walk and asked me for suggestions.  Well, Wood Canyon is okay, a nice walk because it’s relatively flat.  BUT it gets boring, and for a while there the trail is quite exposed.  I told her this and that if she really wanted a “nice” walk and didn’t mind a tough climb, she should take Meadows Trail.  She was sold when I told her she’d be able to see the ocean once she reached the top.  After I showed her the trailhead, I headed off for my crazy repeats.  Then I worried that the woman I suggested Meadows to would hate me for directing her this way.  But as I looked around at the view, I felt satisfied that she too would enjoy the beauty, even if it was difficult.  I mean, great things rarely come easy, right?  RIGHT?

Running up Meadows, red-faced (wash those glasses lady!):

I met Lorraine again as I ran back down Meadows to finish off my first trip.  She thanked me profusely for telling her about the trail.  She found it gorgeous.  Imagine how thrilled I was!    AND she was climbing that monster like a champ.  I don’t know if she realized, but she closed the gap tremendously between her and the two hikers ahead of her.

On my way back down, I passed two mountain bikers making their way up.  Then on my second trip up, I passed them near the top as one of the guys stood off to the side hunched over vomiting.  His buddy chuckled and said something about pushing too hard.   (This of course brought back memories of my first time up Meadows – I ran VERY little, practically none of it, and wanted to literally fall to the ground and cry.  But I was with two other runners and didn’t want to make a spectacle).  

The view running down Meadows:

Running up Meadows on repeat number two, I met Lorraine on her way down the trail.  And she thanked me again for leading her to such lovely ocean views.  She told me that she got great pictures and that she was the only one in her family crazy enough to do this.  And I thought to myself, we are so much alike.  I too am the only one crazy enough in my family to do this, and I too take lots of pictures on my adventures. 

View of Pacific Ocean from top of Meadows Trail:

Running up repeat number three, I got to thinking about the chores I needed to do before heading off to work.  (I really shouldn’t think).  Plus, my left arch has been irritated lately, so I decided to make repeat number three my last.  That gave me excuse to goof off at the top, which of course I did with the camera.  You should see the ones I didn’t post.  LOL.

Kiosk at top of Meadows:

Ready to head back down, Modjeska and Santiago Peaks in background:

Oh, what a lovely downhill, switchback run it is:

The profile:

Just Like Old Times

The only substitute calls I received today left me too far away to make it to my regular teaching job in time.  So, I had to decline.  With some hours to spare (dishes already done, laundry in the machines, boys off to school) what else was a girl supposed to do? 

Hmmmm. 

It was just like old times on today’s morning run.  Before I even heard of trail running, I ran different parts of the local beaches, camp grounds, wharf and marina, gradually piecing the parts together to equal ten miles.  At first I could barely run  2 to 3 mile segments.  Five miles came slowly and I was still embarrassed to say that I was a runner.  Back then, I didn’t think that I looked like a runner.  Now, I don’t really care whether I “look like a runner,” mainly because I realize that runners look all different ways.   I still remember the joy of that first ten miles when I finally pieced together most of this route.  I remember taking way too long to finish, and finishing up like a zombie.  But I didn’t care!  I had run ten miles!!

I ran this route and only this route for years.  I ran it to train for my first half marathon (The Disney half).  I used to count runners running the same route.  I ran it in the dark before anyone in the neighborhood woke.  I ran it at night when the restaurant lights’ reflections twinkled upon the sea. 

This morning, I pieced it all together again for one big loop back to my house.  Now I have this bridge that crosses over the highway (didn’t have this back then):

Like the old times, I ran until the sidewalk ended.  Then I turned around and ran through Capo and Doheny beaches.  I circled the campground twice to find it virtually empty with cars donning only California plates.

Where the sidewalk ends:

Capo Beach:

Dana Point Wharf:

Harbor Island:

Running the marina:

I spotted 31 other runners out this morning.  And I ran 12.05 miles (19.44 km), somewhat fatigued, especially after yesterday’s snow run.  It’s nice to get back out to the old route once in a while. 

Running in a Winter Wonderland : )

Big storm in Southern California this weekend, and I hadn’t run since Wednesday.  Rain always close the local coastal trails, and hubby didn’t want me running mountain trails alone.  I agreed with him on this one.  Last thing I want to do is get injured and trapped in the mountains during a cold winter storm.  Then my break came, I got to tag along with running friend Jeremy into the mountains on a buddy-system run. 

So, at 6:00 AM, I poured my coffee into a thermos, ran out to the truck and headed off in the wind and the rain toward Silverado Canyon.  I nearly choked on my coffee laughing over what I was doing.  I had turn my wipers onto its highest speed for goodness sake, and here I was driving to the mountains for a run.

The right lane on the freeway was flooded.  And on the shoulder, squad car lights spun in the dark where over the railing a car lay on its side.  The rain stopped after several miles.  And I was glad to see runners on the road, someone actually running up Santiago Canyon (crazy!), and a Maple Springs Trailhead lot with a few other cars.

We took off in the cold, lonely canyon, UPHILL on pavement, gingerly crossing streams to keep our feet dry.  At times, we had to walk up or down the stream a bit to find a good crossing. 

Snow appeared early on.  First it was in clumps alongside the trail here and there.  Then the gaps began to fill in and we were running in slushy snow eager for the dirt road.  Of course, the dirt road wasn’t a dirt road at all, it was a beautiful snow blanketed road with a single pair of foot prints, hiking boots, making its way up.   

We got some light rain.  We got some light snow and some light hail.  We also got plenty of wind.  Suddenly those hiking boot tracks ended and we were on our own making our way to “Four Corners.”   Up ahead lay an awesome blanket of perfect snow – below, clouds and mist.  It was very difficult to traverse that trail uphill in the snow.  Yet, it was also extremely beautiful.  I felt an overwhelming urge to lay right down in it.  Beneath the snow, the darker portions, travelled a stream of water, where we learned quickly not to step.  Stepping here meant a foot slammed down in slushy water.  The things you learn on a snowy run. 

Eventually I found that if I ran behind Jeremy, I could step into his footprints, making it much easier physically to climb Maple Springs Road.  Fortunately, I have big enough feet that we switched off here and there using each other’s footprints to lighten the struggle.  Nearing the top, I finally heard voices, then suddenly four or five runners and two dogs made their way toward us.  “You guys got rocks in your head?” one of the male runners asked.  Very cool to see other runners out there on the mountain.

The wind blew strongly at “Four Corners.”  It was cold, cold, cold, so cold, I could hardly set up a “group” photo.  My camera wouldn’t stand upright on the iced gate post and even blew off the post once.  Finally I was able to run to the railing in time for one unfocused picture of two crazy runners who ran up Maple Springs this morning.

The run down was delightful, though cold.  I gave in and finally purposely fell into the snow simply because I just wanted to see what it would feel like.  It felt cold.  My pack on my back prevented me from making a snow angel.  And that’s when I got snow IN my shoes.  My feet were soaked by now.  When we reached the canyon, we didn’t take our time crossing the streams.  Instead, we merely plowed right through them eager for the warmth of our trucks. 

Except for a tiny piece of mild frostbite on my ankle (which feels like a burn), I made it through this adventure unscathed.  I’m so grateful for a running buddy so that I could experience this winter wonderland.  Extremely grateful too that my family put up with me going out for my morning run which lasted more than a few hours.

 Jeremy running up Maple Springs Road (about mile 3):

A little less than mile 4:

Still climbing:

And climbing some more:

Quick pose at “Four Corners”:

Heading back down:

Me with iced hair:

Miles logged:  14.80 (23.82 km)