Holy Jim? Holy Cr*p!

I was so fortunate to have a taker again for another run in our local mountains, someone else crazy enough to run up Holy Jim – they’re out there.  Yes, they are!  Today, I took the trip beneath dry skies with Tom Bychowski up  Holy Jim (also referred to by some as “Holy Cow” or “Holy Crap”.)  Now my 3rd time up, it isn’t that bad.  What Holy Jim is, is LONG.  Sure it’s uphill.  But the grade isn’t ridiculously steep (much less than Horse Thief).  Five miles uphill, I’m pretty sure is long by most people’s standards. 

Holy Jim begins in the canyon and goes all the way to The Main Divide (the ridge that overlooks Riverside County and Orange County).  Holy Jim trail is green and gorgeous with several stream crossings, lots of shade cover and then pretty much exposed, single-track, switch-back, high in the sky.  I found it difficult to keep up with Tom (& actually I didn’t that much), but I didn’t worry about that so much.  I just kept plugging away, trying hard to look up and not down. 

The trail is simply glorious.

Crossing stream on Holy Jim Trail

Tom on Holy Jim Trail – it’s switch-back time!

Self portrait going up Holy Jim Trail

Don’t rightly recall how I got in front of Tom here on Holy Jim, but it was an ideal photo-op.

More Scenes going up Holy Jim:

Finally running The Main Divide

That’s Lake Elsinore below – beneath the clouds:

Running down West Horse Thief (Tom thought a good rename would be Crazy Horse – I agree).  Rocky, switch-back, back beneath the clouds:

Getting closer to Trabuco Creek on West Horse Thief

Coming in for the final stretch on Trabuco Trail to finish up this 14 mile run was long indeed.  I was thankful for shade bursts, though the weather was cool.  Thing was, I ran out of water toward the end.  Dreaming of a tall glass of ice water helped keep me running.  Then I remembered the first time I ran these mountains with the other Tom (Tom Fangrow) I spotted a bullet-ridden car.  I didn’t see that car last week.  I didn’t see it during the Saddleback Marathon.  So, I began the search.  And I swear I found it in a very different place, much closer to the trail.   I think our December rains moved it some. 

Here’s the Car:

Miles logged today:  14

No elevation profile – I actually forgot to strap on the garmin!  But it’s the same profile as last Sunday.  Hard. 

Retro Run

Hubby dropped me off in the coastal hills today.  I asked him before departing, should I run through the canyon and up Cholla?  Or should I go up Meadows?  He knows both of those trails, Cholla quite well. 

“Through the canyon,” he said.

“What????” I exclaimed.  (I wanted to climb and climb hard!!)

“You already know how to run hills.  You need to work on speed.”  True.  True.  He definitely knows what he speaks of.  But I love running hills.  I hate working on speed.  And I’m just not ready to get back to working on speed.  I promise myself that I will – just not yet. 

Today was a “retro-run.”  No, I wasn’t wearing Dolphins shorts, nor was I wearing Nike’s (that was the first running shoe I recall – though it was actually probably Adidas).  Today was a “retro-run” because I wore my husband’s ipod again.  And since I (we) grew up in the seventies (though he is OLDER than I ), I got to listen to lots of “old” music like I did on yesterday’s run.  And boy, did I enjoy myself.  I found myself actually acting goofy running up Meadows (and that’s quite a climb) as I ran “march-like” to the tunes of Jethro Tull’s Thick as a Brick.

“The Poet and the painter casting shadows on the water -- as the sun plays on the infantry returning from the sea.

The do-er and the thinker: no allowance for the other -- as the failing light illuminates the mercenary's creed.

The home fire burning: the kettle almost boiling -- but the master of the house is far away.”

Entering the House of Meadows (Oh No!!)

It all seems so innocent enough – lovely orange flowers growing along the trail’s edge. 

Last chance to look back as I cross bridge on Meadows Trail.  I pause to look over onto the dry creek bed (Yes, those are my feet : ) And that silvery thing on my laces is my identification.

Though much of the coastal grass in the meadows is brown, still, lovely spring flowers dot the climb up.

I didn’t see any runners on Meadows.  The trail was also void of hikers.  A mountain biker politely passed me on his way down.  I nearly jumped out of my shoes because I was so much in another world that I didn’t see him (good thing he wasn’t a rattlesnake!).  I apologized profusely for not noticing him ahead of time.  But he said, “no worries,” he had seen me from a ways up the hill.  (I need to run smarter than that – and usually I do, mostly anyway :)

At the top of Meadows Trail, I didn’t even pause to snap a photo.  I kept on running.  Running up the next incline (it was oh so tough), I met a hiker that said, “I’m impressed!” 

I love people with positive words.  I mean, I was struggling pretty well, and she said, “I’M IMPRESSED!”  Little phrases like that make a world of difference.  And I learn from little phrases like that, and try to pass them on.  I don’t always remember to pass them on, but hikers like this lady, without even knowing it, do a world of good helping me to remember.

At Top of the World I reward myself with coconut water

I finished my coconut water running up and down West Ridge Trail.  I felt high, giddy.  That’s what running up Meadows to Top of the World does to me.  (That’s what running to Top of the World does to me period, no matter the route). 

From there, I took Rock It Trail down.  After Sunday’s run down Horse Thief, I figured some technical downhill practice was a good idea. 

Rock It Trail -- trails like this gave me the bad habit of looking down.

At the end of Rock It, I took a right onto Coyote Trail run.  I knew I was going to be about ten minutes late meeting my husband.  I picked up my pace some, relishing the shady areas and quiet creek below. 

Out of the shade I suddenly heard the loudest unmistakable rattling.  You wouldn’t believe how loudly I could hear this rattler, even with headphones on (really, no need to take off headphones to hear a rattlesnake – though I don’t play the music super loud).  I knew the snake was extremely close, and that it was to my left.  There is no way I could mistake that rattling sound.  It doesn’t sound like a single other thing, except a rattlesnake!  I used to think cicadas were rattlers.  Their little creaking doesn’t even compare to a rattlesnake’s rattle. 

Upon hearing this, I didn’t really think.   Letting instinct take over, I simply ran as quickly as possible, to my right, AWAY FROM THE NOISE.  That of course lead me off trail into the dry grass.  I thought, “Oh great, I just ran into tick land and there’s probably another another rattler a few feet away!”  Mind you, this all occurred in about a half of a second.

Well, I flung off the earphones and the sunglasses and searched for the rattler.  Aha!  There she was, across the trail, rattling like mad, coiled up, prepped to strike. 

Well, they can only strike half their body length, so I crept on in and did a photo-op.  She looked REALLY pissed off.  So, I decided to stop the pictures and took off running (but be sure to scroll down for picture).  A couple minutes later, a mountain biker came up from behind.  We excitedly relayed our encounter with the rattler.  He was a little freaked out how close to the trail it was coiled up ready to strike.  “I like to give them their space,” he said.

So do I.

And then a few minutes later, I came across a hiker.  He was wearing full length sweats with a zipper sweat-shirt to match, chatting on the cell phone (I can rarely get service in the canyon).  I said, “There’s a rattlesnake off the trail a bit back.”   He seemed annoyed with me and said, “I’ve seen them before!”

Hmph.  Just trying to be helpful.  Well, actually he would have heard her.  I just wanted to talk, I guess. : )  Seeing a rattler close up and personal excites me a little. 

I ran strong all the way in.  Thirteen minutes late I was, according to my husband.  He was not amused.  But then again, he hadn’t made the trip to our son’s school from that park EVER.  And I knew we had plenty of time.  I told him “No worry,” and for some odd reason, he didn’t believe me.  And I swear, he drove slowly on purpose (really, though, he’s a swell guy : ).  Still, we made it in plenty of time to pick up our cheerful kindergartner and his friend.  All was well.   I don’t know about the snake though. 

Miles run today:  11

ps.  I bought a new ipod shuffle today.  Thankfully, they are not that expensive.

Running to a Different Tune

Two rainy days in a row kept this woman in the gym during her free time.  You might think she would work on her novel, perhaps journal, play the piano, maybe just tune her guitar, strum a couple chords, or even finish one thing from a huge list of unfinished projects (a needlepoint pillow that’s almost, almost finished or “God Forbid” continue that search for a literary agent).

But I just can’t! I have other things to do, lunches to make, clothes to clean some to iron, dishes to wash, toilets to clean, students to teach, family to hug, a son to help double-knot his the shoes, another to listen as he talks incessantly (about interesting things I might add) and another I need to “walk on eggshells” for,  AND of course, the ultimate truth:  I am utterly obsessed.  I am utterly obsessed with strength.  I am obsessed with sweat.  So, if I’m not out there enjoying a run (& hubby’s working and the boys are in school), I feel the constant urge to strengthen, strengthen, strengthen so that I continue to enjoy the run. 

Perhaps this is a mid-life crises. I really don’t think so. I feel no need for a “cool” car.  I don’t need to wear the latest clothing trends.  Thing is, I’m probably past mid-age, unless of course I live past 92 (which could happen : ).

With only one lovely child remaining to drop at school this morning, I checked the website for Aliso/Wood Canyons and yelped out loud.  I added to that, a loud applause.  Then I ran to hubby and asked if I could use the car – Aliso/Wood is open!  It’s open!!

I was so dang giddy that I lost one of my earphone buds.  I neglected to put on Glide.  Despite the burns on my arms left by the seams on my sleeves, this morning’s run was delightful.

Using my husband’s ipod (story too long to tell), I ran to music I haven’t listened to in years.  I mean YEARS. I listened to Creedance, Pink Floyd, Stevie Nicks, even The Who.  Usually I can’t take The Who – they are just too much for me.  Some of you may know what I mean.  Some of you may say, the Who?

As I ran listening to this music, I remembered staying up late, late at night as a child, past midnight on Fridays to watch Don Kirshner’s Rock Concert(Does anyone remember that show?).  I felt awakened so many times watching that show.  I remember guitarists maneuvering across the stage like I had never imagined.  I saw women rock n’ roll like I didn’t think was possible.

Anyway, before I continue on with today’s photo shoot.  Does anyone remember the line “I’ve got a Cobra snake for a necktie.”?  If you do, comment and let me know the song and who sang it.  If you do, I’ll send the first correct answer a small prize.

About 1 mile in on Aliso Creek Trail / Nice cool breeze, no other runners in sight.

The colors are changing on Aliso Creek Trail – still a beauty

Sign at end of Wood Canyon Trail (Yikes!)  Read carefully, it says that mountain lions . . . are known to attack without warning.  Hmmmm.  Wouldn’t that be obvious, I mean, they are cats.  (Don’t mean to make light of any mountain lion attacks, I’m a bit scared myself).

Wood Creek Trail – yes, spring is still in the air, and in the flora.

More Wood Creek Trail (really can’t get enough of this tiny trail) – it was overgrown and filled with spiderwebs this morning (lovely, seriously – loved it).  Surprisingly, there were no mushrooms among the ferns.  Perhaps that’s for another season.  (Note:  after a re-look, this is the “ending” of Wood Creek, looking back, and the beginning of Coyote Run Trail – Oops)

Coyote Trail Run – as I’ve mentioned before, a mystical, seemingly magical trail.  I encountered two mountain bikers on this trail.

More Coyote Run Trail (notice the moss covered rocks in left foreground.)  Those of you familiar with this trail might wonder, how can this picture be – the creek should be on the left.  I turned around a took a picture from where I came from (not travelling forward in picture)

9.31 glorious miles run today.  Can’t wait for next time.  But I’d better get to bed.

ps.  only one snake spotted today It was a baby, but don’t think a rattler, though it had similar coloring (just didn’t notice any rattles at tail end).

Travels of an Accidental Adventurer

I lugged my swim bag to the gym this morning, locked it up.  My leg still actually ached from Sunday’s Stinging Nettle.  Then I commenced to do a weight workout that tired me immensely – mind you no increased weights, no increased repetitions.  Still I pushed myself through, did some foam rolling.  By the time I finished an ab workout, I knew.  I knew there was no way I was going for a swim.  I was TIRED.  I suppose running around the mountains in the rain kind of did me in for a Monday morning cross-training session. 

By mid afternoon, my energy returned.  But off to work I went (I packed my running gear, hoping I still felt good enough to run home).  You can bet, I ran out the classroom door at quitting time, and took the dirt trail down to the road. The weather was cool, the breeze crisp, but not chilly.  My goal was form.  Just form.

And then I decided, “Hey, why not take the equestrian trail instead of the road.  It looked innocent enough:

The trail was empty.  It felt oh so nice on the feet.   As I ran this trail it became less groomed and naturally I enjoyed that.  I came upon two horseback riders and stood to the side like they were mountain bikers (I didn’t want to spook the horses).  The riders looked pleased and thanked me.  And I had to wonder how many runners used this trail.  I didn’t see any.

And then the trail ended.  I ran across the street that I usually run to get home.  Instead of running through a sports park, down some streets to the bike path that leads to what I call the “riverwalk”, I picked up another equestrian trail with the grand idea of taking a shortcut to the bike path.   I ran joyfully on a path that meandered but remained plenty wide.  The sand was thick, like the dry stuff at the beach.  Strength-training, I told myself. And then the trail turned into a single-track.  Lovely! 

I do after all have a single-track mind.  Vegetation grew thicker and thicker and I kept my eyes peeled for Stinging Nettle.  It grew so thick that I found myself bushwhacking.  I heard a rooster call out twice, which really spooked me.  A rooster?  Really, a rooster spooked me?  It just seemed so odd, like a dream or scary movie.  I mean, where the heck was this rooster in this thickness???

But I kept running through the massive growth.  I took the earphones off, my eyes peeled for trails or anything suspicious or unusual.  And then . . . and then, I found myself boxed in!  (Here we go again – except this time it’s evening, and this time I haven’t told anyone what I was doing, just in case something bad happened).

I didn’t want to back-track.  I hate back-tracking.  My whole family knows this about me.  I don’t back-track in the car.  I avoid it even walking around the grocery store.  I could hear the freeway, oh so close.  The bike path couldn’t be too far off. 

What I thought was bushwhacking earlier was nothing compared to traipsing through the green that I found myself doing next.  I let the bushes scrape against my arms and legs while remaining absolutely focused on my surroundings.

The sound of cars whizzing by grew louder.  And I could see a clearing through some extremely thick vegetation.  I was betting I was no more than a hundred yards off from the bike trail.  I’m gonna do it, I said to myself, just plough through the wall of thick vegetation to that clearing.  So I lifted my feet up high so that I came down upon some thorny weeds (that is instead of scraping against them).  And . . .  then . . . I . . . saw . . . this:

Stinging Nettle!  I slowly backed away like I had come upon a sleeping rattler. 

I backtracked a good half mile, maybe more, relieved to see this horse staring at me, and several more afterward.

And then finally, I came to the end of that park that I usually run through.  I happily, joyfully ran through it, kind of laughing at myself, hoping that I would make it home before dark.

Arrived home before dark, I did, with 7 miles run today.

A Hearty Welcome Back from Holy Jim

I’ve really been wanting to get back to the Santa Ana Mountains for some mountain trail running, specifically up Holy Jim Trail.  I was fortunate to have a taker for the run, Jeremy. 

We arrived to the base of the mountains, Trabuco Creek flowing loudly beneath cloudy skies.  I kept the two layers of long sleeves on (plus a short sleeve that I thought for sure I’d be running in soon) and we headed up Holy Jim.  I rarely run in long sleeves than say, more than a half hour. 

I was surprised how much easier it was to make that gigantic switch-back of a climb, running much of it, compared to the last and only time I “ran” it before (the Saddleback Marathon). 

We crossed back and forth across the stream when rain began to fall.  Fortunately, we had plenty of tree cover at first.  When the switch-back began, the clouds were so thick there was no viewing the canyons below. 

Several other crazy people made their way up Holy Jim – at least two mountain bikers (it’s kind of a blur now) and countless hikers.  I could have counted them, but didn’t, let’s just say there were lots.  Some were smiling, especially the kids, but others had looks on their faces like they wondered what the heck they had gotten themselves into.

And the rain fell a little harder.  And the wind blew a little colder.  We were completely drenched by the time we reached the top of Holy Jim.  What a surprise to find out that trail measures nearly five miles!  Great training trail.  I seriously thought it was a little over a mile, maybe two miles and the reason it kicked my butt last time was because I was so dang tired by the time I reached it (at about mile 10).

On the Main Divide, I finally took out some gloves and a beanie to wear beneath my cap.  That’s when I found out my camera didn’t work, as everything in my pockets were drenched, including the camera.  I didn’t even want to think about my ipod.  Fortunately my phone still worked.  Water poured from Jeremy’s glove when he clenched his fist.

Oh the fun of running an exposed mountain range in the cold rain and wind!   When the Main Divide snaked to the other side, facing Lake Elsinore, it warmed up some as we were protected by the wind.    Still, I really couldn’t feel my legs.  We just kept on moving, hoping that at each turn West Horse Thief would suddenly appear.  Visibility was pretty low.  I mean we could see where we ran, but we could not see off into the distance.  Then glory, glory, West Horse Thief seemed to appear out of  nowhere. 

The run down was glorious, though it was wet and it was cold, and it was rocky.  Toward the bottom of the mountain dozens of orangish-brown salamanders made their way across the muddy trail, away from the stream.  I could have sworn that I saw one salamander with a worm in its mouth.  I desperately wished that my camera worked, and thoughts ran through my mind how I could collect one or two of these creatures and bring them home to the boys.  But I had no container, no way to keep them moist for the drive home (and believe me I was dreaming about turning that heater on full-blast in my truck).

With about a mile and a half remaining, I got whipped by Stinging Nettle.  I thought the reason it stung so badly was because my skin was wet.  Soon the little bumps appeared, and the stinging didn’t disappear like the last time the plant attacked down in San Juan Capistrano.  It felt like a thousand microscopic needles pricking my leg over and over again.  But the pain was very bearable, as my main mission, to finish this run, was still at hand.

Finally seemingly out of nowhere, 14 miles after we started, we ran up on to the parking lot. 

Great run, but a very difficult run, mostly because of the weather.  As promised I drove with the heater running full-blast, all the way home.  I might also add a funny side note:  the skies were blue as I drove home, not a single drop came down upon the windshield.  It took me a long time to finally warm up also at home.  8:30 PM, my leg still stings from the Nettle. 

It was all worth it though.  Holy Jim, I’ll be back!

Finally toward end of run, camera begins to work somewhat (all the pictures turned out mostly blurry)

Elevation Profile:  Holy Jim to Main Divide, West Horse Thief to Trabuco Trail.