Maple Springs to Santiago Peak

When I stepped out of my truck Saturday morning in Silverado Canyon, I thought I had made a big mistake.  It was DANG COLD.  I’m talking Southern California cold of course.  But that’s still quite cold to me.  I’m guessing it was about 45F (That’s around 7C).  Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. Fortunately, I was layered and wore my trusty beanie and warm gloves. 

I ran without music up Maple Springs, enjoying the quiet.  Well, not exactly quiet.  Wind bursts arrived every five or so minutes, trying to rip my beanie off and dropping the temperature down about 10 degrees.  The wind made a tremendous roar, sometimes a whistle as it blew through the canyon.  About a mile in, I realized that I could hear the wind from miles away.  The leaves would rustle, the trees would creak.  The noise moved up the canyon until boom, the wind hit me.  Just like an ocean wave.  And then again, some minutes later, I’d hear it from afar, and it would travel through the canyon and blow right through me.  My smile was wide enjoying these waves.   Wide like the Chesire Cat.

I was not the only person who thought they’d enjoy a beautiful morning up Maple Springs Road.  Several trucks passed me by, as well as motorcyclists and mountain bikers.  But I arrived to a tranquil “Four Corners,” with only one mountain biker who had just rode up Harding Truck Trail.  I took in the views of several counties (San Bernardino, Riverside, LA, and Orange) and turned off on one of the “corners” heading up toward the peak, Santiago Peak that is. 

View of San Gabriel Mountains from “Four Corners”

The road up The Main Divide toward Modjeska Peak (which I only ran past, not up to) was rocky.  When I write rocky, I’m talking about those fist-sized and some a bit larger rocks covering the road.  A challenge to say the least!  At one point I heard an engine revving up this road.  It was a little, and I mean tiny, low to the ground, yellow automobile.  Rocks clinked and clanged the bottom of his car as the driver drove past me.  He wore a huge grin and sat low to the ground.  The scene reminded me of a couple Harry Potter movie scenes.  It seemed to me that this guy driving up the mountain (quite quickly, I might add) was like the bus driver of that crazy, magical bus, manically driving through the streets of London (Prisoner of Azkaban).  At the same time, I saw Ron Weasley in Chamber of Secrets when he stole his father’s car and drove wildly through the countryside.  I had to chuckle. 

That yellow car is about to turn the corner in the background of this picture: 

After I passed Modjeska peak, I ran the saddle of Saddleback mountains.   The wind blew strongly.  The views were immense.  I rarely run the saddle, which lies between Modjeska and Santiago Peaks.  A treat indeed!   While running the saddle, that little yellow car came racing down from Santiago Peak.  I snapped a picture and the driver quickly stopped on the road right next to me.  He turned off the engine.  Red-faced and smiling, he looked at me questioningly.  I grinned back and laughed, “Are you crazy?”  (Like I’m one to ask, standing in the saddle of the saddleback mountains all by myself).  “You know,” he said, “Yes.  I do believe that I am crazy.”  We both laughed and chatted a short bit, then went our separate ways.   I ate my peanut butter and jelly sandwich on whole wheat bread as I made the remaining climb to Santiago Peak. 

In the Saddle:

Santiago Peak where the wind took no prisoners!

The run back down to my truck was tough.  It was after all 9 miles of downhill.  And my foot did not like it one single bit.  I did see several hikers, chatted with some.  More trucks made their way up Maple Springs and countless mountain bikers as well.  My foot ached a great deal for the last two miles.  But I still trotted in.  Arriving at my car, I found another driver parking in the best spot in the whole canyon.  It seemed like I had been the only person to discover this parking place, even though it’s so obvious.  He was a mountain biker, and agreed that we had indeed found the best place to park.  When I pulled out, he pulled into my spot, and set up to make his way up the mountain.  As one comes down, another goes up.

What a WONDERFUL morning!

Triple Digits

I went out for a run in misty winter weather, California winter that is.  My goal: run a minimum of nine miles so that I can hit triple digits for January’s mileage.  It’s been a few months since I’ve had a triple digit month.  Now that I’m training for Twin Peaks, I’ve got to get my mileage up.

Turns out, my mood was low, quite low.  I didn’t really want to run.  But once I got out of my truck, I knew that running would be the best thing for me.  And it was.

I began at Oak Tree Park in Las Flores, ran down Antonio Parkway and caught the Tijeras Creek trailhead.  I took that down to Arroyo Trabuco, a flatish trail, all the way to O’Neill Park (which rests at the base of the Saddleback Mountains).

The trails were nearly empty.  I saw one runner.  He was wearing a shirt that read, “Freedom Run,” and I saw him on the way out and on the way back (we ran in opposite directions).  Other than that runner, I saw only two other people, a man and woman riding their mountain bikes together.

I had six creek crossings on the way out, the same on the way back.  I did not get one toe wet. (Yay!) With a mile remaining, I got some light rain.  So, I quickly stopped and packed up my phone, camera and ipod.  The remainder of the way in, I could hear the bunnies and squirrels and little birdies scampering about in the brush and leaf litter, apparently in preparation of the rain.

A lovely run.  Miles logged:  12

Tijeras Creek Trail:

Arroyo Trabuco:

Time to turnaround (O’Neill Park):

Taking Arroyo Trabuco on the “back”:

Familiar Ground

I woke without a limp this morning.  Hallelujah.  After dropping the boys off at their schools, I headed off to Aliso/Wood Canyons.  My feet felt good on familiar ground.  The skies were white.  Yes, WHITE with fog.  It was lovely.  It was cold.

I felt fatigued, but still chose the hardest climb, Mentally Sensitive.  I put in almost 11 1/2 miles on my home trails.  I came in with only a minor discomfort in my PF foot. 

Running down Mathis back into Wood Canyon:

Running down Mathis after the sun poked through:

The only creek crossing on Mathis:

Calico Trail Race 2014

Sunday, I ran my 6th straight Calico 30k trail race.  Worried a bit about my foot making the difficult terrain, I didn’t dwell on this fear.  Instead, I merely figured it would be my long run, I’d take in some awesome scenery, and if need be, I’d walk on in if my foot couldn’t take the pain.  I had all the time in the world in my eyes, as about 100 runners were running a 50k instead of the 30k.

I stayed with my family just outside of town in one of the two available bunkhouses.  Had some great family times.  Then I woke throughout the night as the boys went absolutely crazy, running about and such. 

Awake at 5:30 AM, I walked to the Start Line in town at 6 AM.  My nerves were calm.  I said “Hi” and talked briefly with friends.  I looked forward to my “long run,” though I didn’t really look forward to fighting against the honorable DFL.  So, I just threw that idea out of my mind. 

The Walk:

I took off on the downhill asphalt road out of Calico feeling good.  My pace was very decent.  The atmosphere was festive.  I didn’t chat like I usually do.  I literally looked to the ground and simply ran.  My mind was blank.  Occasionally, I said “hello,” as a runner passed.  Occasionally, I took my eyes off the desert floor and took in the quiet, immense desert beauty.   

I ran like this (head down, blank mind) for the first seven miles.  The sand was thick, I ran off the trail where the dirt was more solid.  I arrived to the first aid alone.  I was told there were about 6 runners behind me.  But I found that hard to believe – I didn’t see a single soul behind me.  I stayed maybe 30 seconds and was off to the next aid about 5 miles away.

Little by little, I began to lift my eyes from the trail.  And as the rocks turned greens and blues, the earth hardened beneath my feet.  I popped two advil before mile ten.  And when I reached mile ten, I cheered inside knowing I was more than half way. 

When the ground grew rocky, my heart grew fonder.  It was like stream crossing (without the water).  Actually, it’s also like a chess game maneuvering across the boulders and rocks.  One must think several moves ahead to make the run smooth. 

I felt cramping coming on in my calves.  Kept them at bay with some salt pills.  Except for the occasional Search and Rescue that drove by, I felt absolutely alone in this rainbow desert.  I spent very little time at the aid stations.  Once I took a rock out of my shoe. 

I snapped pictures frequently (yes, a new camera!).  But I never once stopped to click a photo.  All my pictures were taken on the run.  So fortunate was I to find that many were in focus. 

With four miles remaining, and the most difficult part of this race remaining, I knew that if I was going to pass anyone, it would be during this portion.  Why?  Well, if a runner hasn’t gone through those last few miles before, the terrain is just so shockingly difficult, that even the experienced runner slows tremendously. 

Somewhere in the middle of this rocky canyon, I came upon three or four jeeps with people trying to figure if they could make it further.  One of the women stood outside of her car, looked at me and exclaimed, “Oh my God!  You are . . . You are . . .”

To which I responded, “Insane.”  And she said, “Yes, insane.”  And we both laughed as I continued on past her, hoping still to pass at least one runner. 

 The Final Stretch:

And then, the end became very near . . . and I grew giddy.  But not too giddy, because that’s when I fall.

And then I passed my first runner, at approximately mile 17.

And then quickly afterward, I passed two more runners.  But one of them, a female would not give up on catching me.  Finally, as I ran through the parking lot, I phoned my husband who was up above in town.  He could see me and waved.  I asked about the girl behind me, “How far is she?”  You see, I refuse to look back.  Looking back gives the runner strength to catch you.  I know it gives me strength when the runner up front looks back.  Hubby reported on her distance and her demeanor and I felt confident to rest up and go for a strong power hike for a few minutes.  And then at last, I slowly made my way up the back service road, ran into town and down to the finish line. 

In the end, I did not fall.  I experienced no anguish.  I did not cry.  My foot survived.  I survived.  And nine, yes NINE runners came in behind me. 

I am so glad that I went ahead with this race.  I feel like this marks the beginning of my comeback.  What a fantastic long run! (It measured 19.76 miles on my garmin).

Thus ends my SHORT version of my 6th Calico Trail Race.

Seven Sure-Fire Ways to Kill your Camera

I put another camera to rest, in a bag of rice actually, with the hope that it may start working again.  This camera was the first one that lasted past the extended warranty that I always purchase.  Alas, I will not be purchasing another camera soon.  But I do of course, have my phone (It somehow survived a full water submerge.)  And even the little, inexpensive, old-fashioned cell phones have cameras.  And therefore did I during this morning’s run.   

Still, a phone is just not the same.  I don’t care what anyone says.  I love my camera-cameras.  And as I ran through Aliso Wood Canyons today, opting to run up Meadows for the first time in a long time, I began to reminisce about my old cameras.  I enjoyed them all; they were all great cameras.  And as I ran up and down those wretched hills,  I recalled each of their destructions and came up with a list of ways I’ve accidentally killed my cameras.  Each of the methods below, I know firsthand will do the trick (but just to be sure, it always helps to have the lens open, especially for drops – lenses go very easily)

MY SEVEN SURE-FIRE WAYS TO KILL YOUR CAMERA:

1. SLAM your camera into a boulder.
2. Throw your camera off a cliff.
3. Underhand toss your camera down a dirt trail.
4. Fully submerge yourself with camera in hand, into a pool of water
5. Set your camera on a boulder so that the wind can blow it off and knock it to the ground (this one particularly, works best when the lens is open).
6. Keep your camera in a mesh pocket during a rain downpour.
7. And lastly, merely drop it to the ground (again, remember lens open). 

Sure, I missed a lot of photo-ops on my run today.  I ran within a few feet of a blue heron.  Then watched it fly away with its enormous wingspan.  But I’ve snapped that picture before – dozens of times.  In fact, I’ve probably taken thousands of pictures on Aliso/Wood Wilderness trails.  Running without a “legit” camera freed me some today.  This helped me focus on my run more intently.  Still today, I indulged a little during my 11.46 miles of trail running.  I guess I’m just a photo junkie. 

Climbing Meadows:

Top of Meadows:

Top of the World: