Peter's Canyon

When the alarm rang out this morning, I looked at the clock, 5 o’clock, and thought to myself, awww, that’s a joke, right? Some kind of mistake! Why am I waking at 5AM on a Sunday morning?

Didn’t take long before I remembered that I had rsvp’d for a group run today. And not knowing just how long it would take me to drive to Peter’s Canyon, I set the alarm extra early. I left the house extra early too – under darkness, like some kind of crazy : )

I arrived to an elementary school parking lot a good fifteen minutes before start time. No other cars in the lot, I made sure the doors were locked and fought against falling back asleep. I thought to myself, “my husband surely would not appreciate this – his wife sitting in a lonely parking lot, in the dark!” Shhhhh. Nobody tell him, okay?

I really wanted to make this run though, because it seems I run pretty much the same trails again and again – I looked at the chance to run Peter’s Canyon again, as an opportunity (see she is a little whacked!) Peter’s Canyon is the first place that I ran trails back in June 2008.

6:30 AM sharp, the other runners drove up – first Jennifer, then Tom, and right about that time, Sheila and Kelly. The sun had not yet begun to rise when we took off running on the streets towards Peter’s Canyon Park. Sheila, Kelly and I ran the ridge route, proving to be tiresome for me, with some pretty steep climbs, but at the same time, some nice steep down hills. Tom and Jennifer took the canyon route. We all met up on the other side of the lake and ran together back in via the canyon. Right about the end of this wonderful journey, we took a thick creek side trail that reminded Kelly of the Hawaiian rain forests. It was a nice detour and delightful way to end this Sunday run.

Miles logged this Sunday morning: 6.5

Early Morning on the Ridge:

Coming Off Ridge




Meeting up (Sheila, Me, Jennifer, Kelly, Tom)


Heading Back (Tom & Sheila crossing creek bridge)

"Good Girls Don't, But I do."

I want to swim tomorrow, especially because my wrist x-ray came back normal. So, today was run day for sure. But where to run? That was the question of the day (well, actually the first question of the day; a day is filled with lots of questions).

After dropping my two oldest boys off at elementary school, then an hour later, my youngest to preschool, I debated whether to run down to the marina, or to run to the Top of the World. Oh, the dilemmas of life! If I ran out the door for a harbor run, I’d be tempted to run ten or so miles, resulting in way too much time away from chores and other things on the “to do” list. On the other hand, the shortest route to Top of the World is only a 5.9 mile run. Ah – but there’s the drive to and from, adding to the time away from essentials.

What to do? What to do?

Quite frankly, I didn’t spend too much time deciding. The answer was easy. Onward, to the Top of the World!

I love that anxious feeling driving to Canyon Vistas Park, knowing that hot, steep climb up Cholla awaits me with open arms, stoically, non-judgmentally, yet mockingly. I love the twists and turns in the trail, swerving up to the ridge, lots of bike tracks, few shoe tracks. I love that I can’t see the top, but how suddenly after a bumpy rock outcropping and quick right turn, I’m there, at the top of Cholla Trail – as if it wasn’t that bad after all, but really, running up that thing was hell.

But wait, there’s more delight. Upon reaching Westridge, its two plus miles of rolling climbs are laid out entirely before me. I can see it all, and it’s more than intimidating, its frightening : ) But not too frightening. I put one foot in front of the other, once again and ran it all the way to the top. Just toward the end, Westridge’s most daunting climb, I told myself, “don’t look at the top,” and I put my eyes to the ground. Funny; I couldn’t stop looking. It was so difficult to run, I just had to see “how much farther????” I made a deal, don’t look until the song’s over. There was only about ten seconds left of the song, and I looked to the top about three times. Here’s the deal when I concentrate on the top of a tough climb: I slow down, I feel even more tired, and I want to quit. That’s why I try not to look. If I just focus on the moment, think about one foot at a time, I can take the hill a lot stronger.

About half way up these difficult part on Westridge (if you know the trail, it’s the climb that leads up to the Mathis intersection, the same one I fell down months ago), a song piped in through my headphones, a one hit wonder from my high school years, that I haven’t heard since about then. Good Girls Don’t, I’m pretty sure it’s called. The chorus goes, “Good Girls Don’t, Good Girls, Don’t, She’ll be tellin’ you, Good Girls Don’t, but I do.” I laughed out loud and changed the meaning of that song right then and there running up that hill – those words don’t mean what we all thought they meant! Good girls don’t get all dirty and run up ridiculously steep climbs like this, BUT I DO!

it's a middle-age sadness

Everyone has got to taste.
An in-between age madness
That you know you can't erase
Til she picks up her pace.

You're alone with her at last,
And you're waiting til you think the time is right.
Cause you've heard she's pretty fast.
And you're hoping that she’ll pick the trail tonight.
So, you start to make your play,
Cause you could've sworn you thought you heard her saying...

Good girls don't,
Good girls don't,
She'll be tellin' you,
Good girls don't, but I do.

Earlier today, when I was delirious this cracked me up. It’s not so funny now, but funny enough then to get me to the top of that climb. When I finally reached Top of the World I took in the ocean view and quickly turned around for that glorious run back. What a great feeling to finally make it to the top, sweating, dirty, and dead-dog tired! The run down was exhilarating – memories of getting up there, of conquering the monster, seeing the strain on the faces of the bikers who now made their way up. There are some up hills on the way back, it is a ridge trail after all. But Cholla, that’s all downhill, twisting, turning, glorious downhill.

Miles logged this morning: 5.9

ps. The song referenced is from "The Knack."

Top of the World on a Cool October Morning

Rain woke me all through the night Monday. When I phoned the ranger station Tuesday morning, I was surprised to find that Aliso Wood Canyons Park was open. In fact, it hadn’t rained there at all.

Let me tell ya! I did not feel like running one bit. I was so tired; I thought to myself, if no one shows, I’m driving straight home and going to bed. By the time my face hit that cool air and my eyes took in those blue skies however, I began to feel like I could do this.

Two club members, Tom and David, arrived to join me on this weekly run in my favorite wilderness park. We ran through Aliso Canyon and took a right onto Wood Canyon. It was quiet, cool, and we took it at a good pace. Tom commented that at “this pace we could run 100 miles in 16 hours.” At this rate, my warm-up was going pretty slowly – I wasn’t going to get my grove for at least that many miles!

So, it was the usual lovely Wood Canyon, shaded by sycamores and live oaks. We met dozens of crows mingling about in a group on the trail. I saw a bunny hop off here and there in the brush. At Cholla, Tom turned back for a 9 mile round trip. I tried to snap a group photo at the departure. The first one, I got the trash can lid in the picture, the second one sans the lid, I didn’t much like. (I ended up cropping out the trashcan for the group photo below).





David and I ran up that tough, tough exposed Cholla trail and continued on Westridge to Top of the World. What a run that is! I can’t help feel like I accomplished something great after that – even if I had walked it, which we didn’t. We ran all the way to the top. From there we ran through the Top of the World neighborhoods to enter the park on the other end. The goats had moved farther down the ridge. The skies were beautiful, blue with puffy clouds as we headed down Meadows Trail. David kept me on my toes, running this at a faster pace than I’m used to when I run this park solo. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was racing me. (kiddin’ -- but don’t you hate it when you’re in a race and don’t even know it? : )



Anyway, we ran on into the ranger station with a total of 11.64 miles logged for the morning. I was dead-dog tired, and had to replenish calories quickly, because weakness began to fall heavily upon me.

What a run! I loved it.

Seaside Run

We were socked in today in this seaside town. Good thing, because I heard it was hot, hot, hot inland. In our town, it was kinda cold. : )

I took an afternoon run after forcing myself to sleep in. I left the house at 1:30 and ran downtown, having to stop frequently for red lights. I ran by the post office and dropped an envelope in the shoot, and then ran on over to the cliff trail overlooking the marina. The falls which sometimes roar in the wintertime, were bone dry as I ran across the wood plank bridge alongside that cliff. The ocean was a light green, that wonderful, coca-cola bottle green. I ran down the hillside park into the marina, ran out to the cliffs overlooking the tide pools that are so heavily watched by docents nowadays. And then I ran through the crowded wharf and back out to the streets where I hit Highway One and ran it all the way home.

Miles logged this Sunday afternoon: 5.25

Early to Bed, Early to Rise / Emerald Canyon Trail Run

I was on the road under dark skies this morning for a run on a new trail, not actually “new”, but new to me. Not only a new trail, but a new park, again just new to me – Crystal Cove State Park, I’m sure has been around for many years. In fact, I camped at the beach end of it when I was in girl scouts so many years ago.

I met Tom a few minutes before 7:00 AM. One other member, a no-show, we took off about 7:05, on a down hill. That joy was quick to end for a steady climb along Bommer Ridge. The weather was still pleasant, though weather reports promised 90 degrees. I was well prepared with a camelback full of water on my back, and a camera, as well to document the trail.

We took El Moro Ridge to the Old Emerald Falls Trail which was a lovely downhill, cool weathered, single track. And it was pretty much down hill after that til the end of the canyon (or at least as far as we could run). At the bottom of Old Emerald Falls, we came out at Emerald Canyon, which was lush and shaded by giant sycamores and live oaks. The canyon walls were vaguely orangish, at one spot with overhanging outcrops. The sight was gorgeous.

I believe it was around mile four, or around there, that we reached “The Falls.” They were dry, but promised another run, another time, overflowing with water. We ran ahead on past that until the trail ended in Laguna Beach at a chain link fence, perhaps a country club on the other side (I could see tennis courts off in the distance).

At "The Falls"


Dead end past Emerald Falls

On Emerald Canyon (before the climb back up)

Emerald Cyn Trail (Heading back up)

Well, after running down for so long into Emerald Canyon, there was only one way back – and that was UPHILL. Actually, it wasn’t too bad, only a few tough places. Instead of turning off onto the Old Emerald Falls single track, we continued up Emerald Canyon to Bommer Ridge. And continuing on under bright, warm skies, we ended this Saturday morning run with 9.85 miles. I was dang tired.

What to do when rain muddies the trail? Hit the Road.

Rain fell down upon us in sunny California on Tuesday and Wednesday. I didn’t hit the trails on Tuesday, as hoped. Thursday, I thought, Thursday I’ll run trails. (Oh so desperately whispering in my mind : ) But this morning, I didn’t want to make the drive out and back to Aliso and Wood Canyons only to learn that the rangers had closed the park. So, instead I decided to lace up those road shoes and head down Highway One for a run. (I desperately need new road shoes.)

The sky was gray, the breeze cool, but not cold, and the waves were choppy, uneven sets running high up on the beach. Pelicans were off playing or feeding elsewhere; seagulls ruled the skies. I set no plan where to run, or exactly how many miles to run. I was thinking somewhere around ten miles would be nice (that cracks me up -- ten miles! I remember weeping the first time I ran ten miles.). Anyway, last minute, I decided to run through the state beach and campground, and I ran it all the way until the sidewalk ended. I didn’t feel in tip-top shape this morning, but let me tell ya! What a delight it was to get out and run, especially after having missed my regular Tuesday trails.

Tourists have pretty much vanished from these parts. The wharf was empty. Locals walked their dogs, sat at the harbor side coffee house and local breakfast joint. I didn’t have to squeeze through clusters of walkers, nor did I run through puffs of cigarette smoke. Eventually, my headphones died, and I figured it was about time I headed back– I still had laundry and a kitchen to clean, not to mention a soap to watch (which I didn’t really watch), and a class to get ready for.

The “big hill home”, though a challenge, was no problem at all.

Miles logged this Thursday morning: 9.21
Total # number of people I saw running during my beach/harbor side run: 8

Oops Again : )

Okay, so I didn't come in under 25 miles for the week. That cracks me up. Proves that things do change (despite the saying that "nothing changes!"). I remember struggling to get in twenty miles. And now that I've promised myself a "break" for October, the first two weeks I come in over 25 miles. I'm close though. And I am feeling rested, so tempted to put in a twenty-miler, but forcing myself to stay with the "break."

Don't get me wrong -- this is not to say that running has been easy on my "break" month. It's mostly fun and breezy, true. But there's tough parts too -- especially during the warm-up. Warm-ups have always been tough for me, and so have hills (just because they're getting easier, doesn't mean they're easy). It's precisely the difficulty that's got me with this running thing -- whether it's a full-force, hard-driven 35 mile week, or a take-it-easy 15 mile week. I can fail all week long at so many things, fail at keeping the house clean, fail at keeping my patience, fail at eating a healthy diet, fail at NOT procrastinating, etc., etc., etc. And then I run. That's when I don't fail, and I feel a little better. No, A LOT better. I feel better, because it's HARD, and I did it.

Anyway, I went for an 6:30 group run in Wood Canyon this Sunday morning. It was still dark when I arrived. When the sun finally rose above the horizon it never shined through the gray clouds, and it was lovely -- lovely, lovey, lovely. Tom, Sheila and I hit Wood Canyon trail via Canyon Vistas Park and before I knew it, we had reached the turnaround. It was shady and cool, and the perfect way to start the day. The company was wonderful, and the miles flat. Lots of bunnies, no snakes -- who can ask for anything better? To my surprise, the miles totalled 6.9, bringing me to 26.11 for the week. Oops.

Easy Goin'

I aimed for five miles today; mental math indicated if I wanted to do Saturday’s trail run and come in under twenty-five weekly miles, I needed to run less than six today. Why twenty-five miles? Because, I’m cutting back for the entire month of October. I’m takin’ it easy. : )

Readers of this blog may have guessed this about me: I won’t take the time beforehand to measure routes. Instead, I try and guess mileage (& measure them later). Why won’t I take the time to measure beforehand? Because, I don’t have time, or else, I don’t think I have the time. In a nutshell: I’m always in a rush – that is, until I finally hit the pavement or trail – then it’s easy-goin’ for this forty-four-year-old mother of three. I hit the trail or pavement thinking I can “feel” five or ten miles. And it’s kind of a joke really. To date, I haven’t been able to feel any particular distance.

So! I headed down the highway pretty late in the morning, after 9:30, free as a bird – no running belt, no water, no phone even! I did have my ipod which helped me breeze through this short, relatively flat run. I hit the state beach, bikini clad volleyball players spiked the ball in the sand, and surfers in abundance sat on their boards for that long ride in (we’ve got long boarders out our way.) As usual, I ran through the wharf, and after making my way out from behind the restaurants’ backdoor service entrances, I was caught by surprise. There before me, out in the mouth of the harbor, hundreds of seabirds, pelicans, seagulls and such flew about in a flurry, diving in the waters, swooping through the air. The scene was breathtaking! Those marvelous pelicans, so giant like they are, amazed me the most. The literally flapped their wings straight into an ocean nose dive. And they didn’t slow down a bit before hitting. Their splashes probably reached three feet.

Passing the spectacle, I ran backwards for a bit to keep on watching, so spectacular was the scene. I continued on to the island and my usual places, up and back the small dock, etc., etc., until I came upon the cliffs that towered above. Tide was high. The tiny beach no more, waves crashed upon the jetty rocks. I turned around at that point, and made my way back home, hoping that I had put in five miles – because it sure didn’t feel like five miles. It was a breeze.

Miles logged this morning: 7.71 Oops. : )

Top of the Mornin' (where else but on the Trail?)

Fall is upon us. And oh how I love that cool weather. My boys and I were actually cold driving to school this morning. I drove to Aliso / Wood canyons afterward, wondering whether I should have opted for long sleeves. There I was in shorts and short sleeves, strapping a camelback full of cold water onto my back, delighting in being cold. (I really have had enough of running in the heat).

Tom and I hit the trails at 8:30 sharp. The breeze was slight and wonderfully cool, the skies, blue with a mixture of puffy and wispy clouds. We ran Wood Canyon in downright shade -- sunglasses I pushed up on my head. What contrast it was to the past few months.

My running friend let me try his GPS on for size, after wondering outloud whether it was heavy. It wasn't heavy. I found myself staring it at so much, I feared that if I owned one, I'd probably fall on my face once or twice. Surprised to find us in the nine something minute mile a few times, I said, "Whoa, we better slow down."

After turning onto Mathis Trail, Tom continued running with me until the climb. I gave him back his GPS and he turned around for a six mile total round trip. Then I put my headphones on and continued running up Mathis Trail. I wish that I could adequately relay just how difficult it is for me to run up that thing. Perhaps I can shed a slight glimpse. I sweat salt running up Mathis, even in this cool weather. And the salt drips into my eyes which stings quite badly. At times, the grade is so steep that the only way to run it is on my toes, and when I try to force a mid-foot strike, my calves hurt. I ache to rest about five minutes in. But I concentrate on my breathing and refuse to think about how much longer I've got to go. And then when I reach the top of Mathis, I'm not even at Top of the World. I still have to climb Westridge. I say "have to" in a gleeful sort of way, because reaching Top of the World is a triumphant prize.

On Westridge, almost to the top, overlooking Laguna Canyon Road



Looking down from Top of the World -- the glorious Pacific in the distance

At Top of the World, I strolled through the park, eating my 200 calorie fruit and nut bar for breakfast. All six tennis courts were full as the meters below indicate (how funny -- meters? I didn't notice them on my last stroll).



Having cut back my mileage some (remember my break?) I felt much stronger cutting across the ridge neighborhoods. I ran on past all the "No Trespassing" signs posted into the ground and stapled into tree trunks, onto the single track that leads back to the wilderness park. Looking forward to seeing "my" Meadows trail -- that exhilerating switchback that leads down to the canyon floor -- I picked my pace up some. But, alas, no GPS to know for sure. Finally making it out of the neighborhoods, there before me grazed hundreds of goats on the slope. What a surprise! (A precious surprise -- they were so cute!)

Looking down (Meadows trail meandering at the base)


Something new at the park

Descending down Meadows

Finishing up Meadows


In all I ran 11.5 miles this morning. It sure didn't feel like it. Cutting back has really helped the overall fatigue factor. I'd been running myself ragged. : )

Cool Morning Trail Run

Again I woke through the night. At 3:30, I thought, maybe I should just get up. Nah. 5:00 AM, I thought the same, and again at 5:30. When my cell phone alarm finally rang at 6:00, I jumped up, “What the heck! What’s today? What am I supposed to do?” And then I remembered, today’s a stress-free morning – I’m going for a nice and easy trail run. Sunday’s the new member run for my group, and from experience have found the new member runs to be pretty stress-free. (Notice my STRESS on stress-free – I’m trying to tone it down in my life right now : ))

After a couple cups of coffee, I set out beneath big, gray cloudy skies. Rain drizzled as I made my way toward the freeway – just enough for one wiper’s worth. Let me tell you the relief I felt was great, knowing that I would not run this morning in the heat.

I met Tom at the Quail Hill Trail Head, and we took off running on a well groomed almost sandy path for a refreshing run in the Irvine foothills. It seemed like ages since we’ve run together, ages since I’ve run Quail Hill.

We began this morning’s run on an incline, nothing terrible, but still, it’s always tough for me to START running uphill. I really like about 3 miles of flat running to begin (downhill is nice too). One very nice thing about beginning on an uphill is that, if it’s an out-and-back like today, you know you’re gonna end on a downhill. I like that!

About a third of the way in, we met fellow club runners, Sheila and Dave, making their way in the opposite direction (two runs were posted for this morning). We stopped and chatted for a bit. We were all smiles – who wouldn’t be with this nice cool weather, STRESS-FREE run?

Obviously, I enjoyed my run this morning. With us both nursing injuries, I think we did pretty good (hopefully, Tom will say the same). Soon after, I was thinking about, planning bigger, harder runs, when I told myself – take a break, remember? You’re cutting back. Well, at least for October.

Miles joyfully logged this morning: 5.20

"Don't Forget to Slow Down in Life."

As I drove my two oldest boys to school this morning, I smiled wide and said, “I’m SO HAPPY.”

“Why?” They asked.

“Because I’m going running.”

“So?”

“TRAIL RUNNING.”

“Oh,” my oldest said with a look that seemed to say, I still don’t get it.

I haven’t seen Top of the World in weeks. Driving to Canyon Vistas Park, I felt giddy. The sky was blue with white wispy clouds. I knew it was going to be hot, but who cared? I didn’t.

I buckled my running belt (phone, pepper spray, gum, etc.) and strapped on my camelback with more than enough water to take me to the top and back (see “Quickest Route to Top of the World” 9/10/09). Then I put those headphones on and ran down Canyon Vistas Park into Aliso / Wood Canyons Wilderness Park, feeling a little anxious about running up Cholla. “Don’t think about it,” I told myself. “You know you can do it.”

I couldn’t have cared less how hard it was running up Cholla. Yup, it was hard, but it was GREAT. Wearing a cotton t-shirt so I’d really get the full affect of the climb’s difficulty, I was drenched in sweat by the time I reached Westridge. One really nice thing about Cholla is that it twists and turns. That makes it difficult to concentrate on the top, being that I can’t see it. The end comes out of nowhere. I like that. I look to the ground and put one foot in front of the other. The knowledge that I’ve done it before, plus the fact that I know that Cholla trail is not very long, helps.

Hitting Westridge was a relief to say the least. Ahead of me, a trail of rolling hills swept off into the distance, with Top of the World looking, oh . . . so . . . far . . . away. Westridge has two really difficult spots: 1) just before reaching Mathis, the climb is quite steep on sandy-dirt, and 2) when almost to the top, there’s another longer, sandy, but with some nice flat rock mixed in to nearly finish it off.

I picked up my speed to run to the edge where I eagerly looked over. The Pacific Ocean was a nice dark blue today. A few cyclists rested at the benches there, as hikers who parked at the top, made their way down Westridge with walking sticks. I ran down into the park, and thought about the wall post from a new Facebook friend, Ileana G. (whom I met at the Writer’s Conference). She wrote, “Hello wonderful people! Don’t forget to slow down in life . . .”

For the first time, in who knows how many times I’ve run to the Top of the World, I took a stroll through that park. I knew about the tennis courts. But I didn’t know there were six of them! There’s also a finely manicured, full-size baseball field back there. And metal sculptures of life-size whales diving into the grass (with just their rear fins emerged) hid behind the courts. This I never knew! I walked beneath the arbors that I didn’t know existed either, when I reached the final surprise: a basketball half court.

After fully discovering the park, I ran back to the trail to the sign that warned that I was entering mountain lion territory. I recalled my earlier paranoia over mountain lions, overcoming that and devising (thru research) a game plan should we ever meet (older blogs found on my MySpace page).

I joyfully, yet carefully, ran up and down Westridge. I was having so much fun, that I toyed with the idea of heading down Mathis for a longer route home. I fought against that urge. Don’t ruin a good thing, I told myself. Just do these few miles – remember you’re taking it easy for a while.

Yes, I’m taking it easy. : ) I finished off Westridge, then ran back down Cholla, past three cyclists struggling up that thing. Then back through the park, I ran to the car where I stretched and finished off my water.

I got lost driving home (again), still looking for that on-ramp to the toll road. : )

5.9 glorious miles logged today, my first run for October.

One MORE for the Road

I planned to stay off the trails, that is big climbing trails until I got this nerve/toe (?) problem figured out, because I suspected that it was the steep climbs that caused the injury.  The good news is:  I ran on roads today and when I returned, I took off my shoes and OUCH.  Toe pain : )

I guess that means that I can return to the trails.  (Great logic, eh?)

Anyway, it is true, today I hit the road one more time.   And it was beneath gorgeous blue skies that carried with it warm winds.  Those winds blew up against my baby jogger, creating a parachute working against me.  Needless to say, the run was tough -- but tough is good.  Feels good to work really hard. And baby, well, he's no baby anymore.  My four-year-old has grown since I last pushed him on the run.  He was a heavy load.

I put up a good sweat today and loved every minute of it.  Even though I had to use my husband's ipod (because mine, since the crash, has only the same three cd's I've been listening to for the last few runs and workouts -- and I just can't take it anymore).  Regardless, he's got some good music on there.  I took it off "shuffle" and handpicked some good running tunes.  

I didn't much pay attention to my surroundings.  Just thinking, thinking, thinking, strategizing about my writing, what I'm gonna write, how I'm gonna market it.  Baby screamed in delight as usual at all the squirrels that scurried about on the island. And even things a simple as a pigeon brought him joy!  Remember the days?  

I do.  I get them once in a blue moon.

Using my inner-gps, I gauged what I thought might be 5 miles.  At home I measured and learned, miles logged this morning:  6.23

One for the Road

Well, I'm back, after a weekend of debauchery (nah, just kidding, I was just at a writer's conference), and I've been aching, I mean aching to run. Actually, I hadn't planned on a run this evening, but with a new teaching assignment and having to learn the ropes this week, today was the day.

I was a little afraid, 1) because of the heat, and 2) it's the evening!  I usually can't run after a busy day.  Amazingly, even with a warm breeze, and blaring sun, and pavement beneath my feet (boy do I miss the trail), I had great fun.

Sunglasses, and ipod with the same three cd's loaded since my computer crash, I ran down the highway, up and over the pedestrian bridge where I squeezed my way through two guys stretched out smoking pot. And then I made my way, against my own advice, to the campground. I thought it might be too hot there, too smokey. Yes, it was hot, but smoky, not -- instead lovely dinner smells on the bbq.

And then I did my usual thing, ran up to the jetty, longboarders to my left simply sitting in the still waters, waiting for that wave. Egrets stalked the grounds by the fisherman who threw their lines out at the rocks, and across the marina waters, hundreds of pelicans simply sat at the filling dock, like they were sleeping or something (I couldn't tell).  All the while, I didn't stress about anything -- I just let my mind glide along with my feet.

Anyway, thru the wharf, crowded restaurants, and those lovely water fountains for refreshment along the way, I ran onto the island. I powered up that bridge to it, feeling no pain, just nice easy runnin'. Yes, I had one of those easy runs today. And when I arrived at the cliffs, where waves rather gently made their way in, the skies were dark, stars twinkled in the moonlight.

Can it get any better than that?

The night was still as I headed back, golden lights reflecting off the marina waters. Though still, the air was cool. And even though my cotton t-shirt weighed about five pounds about now (drenched with sweat), I powered up the big hill home, delighted that I could make this one for the road.

Miles logged this evening: 9.13

"Crack Baby Crack, Show me You're Real."

I can't even begin to tell you, nor do I think I will.  Nothing personal.  Let's just say at the moment:  Tough times = all the more reason to run!

A couple of quotes come to mind.   First from the only Dickens book that I've read (Tale of Two Cities):

"IT WAS the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair . . . " "

Sure, I'm not facing the French Revolution.  But I can relate . . . yup, maybe we can all can relate.

And then from The Old Testament: Ecclesiastes
"To every thing there is a season, and time to every purpose under the heaven:A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance . . . "

And so there have you, my feelings, someone else's elegant words . . . as usual.   

So, what does this have to do with running, specifically trail running? As with life, when I run that tough hill, or long stretch, I can't look far ahead, I have to take the good with the bad.  And though that hill may be tough, enduring it is the real award.  I can't focus on the difficulty. Instead, I take in stride (column straight, kicking out from the back) acknowledging that this is one of the tough parts, plant one foot in front of the other and just keep on moving. (If only I could do that in real life!)  If I start to look too far ahead in my runs, keeping my eyes glued to the top of that hill, well, then, another quote comes to mind:

"Crack Baby Crack. Show me you're real. Smack, Baby Smack, is that all that you Feel?" (David Bowie, "Cracked Actor" from Aladdin Sane -- get it?  Sounds like A Lad Insane : )

That's precisely what happens if I don't stay in the immediate moment when I run -- Crack Baby Crack.  And that's precisely when I began to falter on my last race.  It's when I saw those front runners heading back up that long hill, and I began to fret about that hill probably two miles before I even got there.

STAY IN THE MOMENT AND ACCEPT WHAT IT IS.  That's what trail running has taught me more than the above quotes.  I don't always remember what I've learned.  But heck . . . it's a start.

So, even in the best of times, or the worst of times, and during every other season and purpose under heaven, I can stop that CRACK. I'll show you I'm real -- one foot in front of the other, I'm movin'. It's just life. And with life, at least I got in a run. Yes, I got to run, be it against those warm Santa Ana, westerly blowin', hot winds . . . I got in a fast (for me) relatively flat run. : ) And it was lovely,and it was forgetful, because I thought about nothing.  Nothing at all.

Miles logged this warm, warm morning: 6.0

Take a Break?

"My brain hurt like a warehouse, it had no room to spare
I had to cram so many things to store everything in there."

David Bowie, "Five Years",

Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars

My note regarding the above quote: Best when said screaming, with hands pressed to head, like Edvard Munch's painting, "The Scream."

No one thought when I said I was gonna "take a break" that it meant I wasn't gonna run? Did they? : )

What I really meant was that I was gonna tone it down -- less intense runs, less weekly mileage, and a short break from the hills. That's what I really meant. : )

So, I ran 9.23 lovely, flat miles today, beneath hot sunny skies. They began laboriously, but ended joyfully. I ran along the river (nearly dry on a bike path), ran along sycamore creek trail (an exercise trail with no creek in sight, where I jumped the small hurdles twice), then made my way over to the socked-in marina, complete with cool breezes and ample water fountains.

Really grateful for the time to run. Because later today would not be so good -- I crashed my notebook computer, which is an actual extension of my body. My dog is sick, she's an old gal that I love so much. And an ink pen leaked in my purse, which isn't terrible, but it just added to it all.

What a time . . . what a time.

Heartbreak at Heartbreak Ridge Half Marathon

With the pain in my wrist acting up again, and these dang toe problems I decided to take it somewhat easy this week as far as running goes. Eleven miles on Tuesday, then it was just fun non-running workouts for the other days. Thursday, I swam. After 3,000 yards, I felt I could do more, but dried myself off nonetheless, because I've got this Writer's Conference looming ahead and lots of chores at home.

And then the wrist pain attacked without mercy. I'm referring to the injury from Santiago Truck Trail (Slam Dancin' with the Trail) and then the re-injury at Bulldog 25k. After crawling in the mudrun last week, the swimming really did my wrist in. Thursday I slept restlessly all night, waking in pain constantly.

Friday, I took the day off and immobilized my wrist. To bed by ten I had another weird, restless night of sleep, I figured that Saturday's half marathon, though a "trail" run would be relatively easy. Besides that -- I took it easy this week.

I had a long drawn-out drama dream the night before this race, about me trying to convince some adult children to attend the 4th or 5th wedding of their drunkard father. He was really in love this time and was gonna change his life. One daughter was in tears as I tried to convince her to sing at the wedding. Before I knew it, I too was bawling over the phone re: her pain. After finally convincing all the children to attend, I guzzled champagne like water, and searched a department store for an open bathroom (I couldn't find any!). Then I woke. The clock read: 7:05 AM. My half marathon started in 55 minutes, and if I didn't jump up now, drive 80 miles an hour on an empty tank, I wasn't gonna make the start line in time!!! What a morning : ( I barely had time to brush my teeth, but I made the start line with minutes to spare. Amazingly, I got a parking space right up front.

They were out of t-shirts (no big deal, I have too many anyway), and the bathroom lines were empty by now too -- as everyone was already lined up to run. I took off comfortably under cloudy skies, the first mile over asphalt complete in 0:9:40. I planned to keep that pace, maybe pick it up some. I really hoped that we'd hit the trail soon, which we did, and I was at ease. : ) I made mile 2 by 0:20:00. My pace was falling, though we were running on a slight incline.

When the tougher climb began, I ran it, not feeling too uncomfortable. In fact, I felt good. Mile three was a ten minute pace. I wanted to pick it up, hoping for more of an average of a nine something pace for the race. At about mile 4 or so, I began a fun descent on that wide dirt fire road. Thing was, the sun came out, and it came out in vengeance. Still, I felt pretty good on this out-and-back half marathon (I really don't enjoy out-and-backs, that is: run to the halfway point, then turn around and run back the same way).

At about mile 5.5 the front runners were passing us on their way back, and I realized that I had been running down hill for quite some time -- too long, in fact. I began to fret about the turnaround, knowing that I'd have to run back up this thing in the searing heat that was now weighing me down.

Just make it to the turnaround, I told myself. JUST MAKE THE TURNAROUND. Worry about the rest later. I was not in a good state of mind though this morning. Having rushed out, and having to deal with these injuries, not to mention the negative self-talk over my persistent procrastination (in general for everything, but in particular, over the writer's conference).

Well, the turnaround came much, much later than I felt it should. Already drenched in sweat, I began to resent the cute little sayings on those Mile Markers. Things like: "The Goal is Pain" -- It is so NOT the goal. It was so not the goal, that at the turnaround I downed three ibuprofens to subside my toe pain.

I don't think I have the energy to relay just how defeated I felt coming into mile eight. One guy ran by and said, "After mile 9, it's uphill for a mile, then all down hill from there." I smiled (because that's how I am, try to make nice) and made some small talk. But I thought, "what the hell is he talking about, we're running uphill right now!" At a bend, I chuckled at the Marine who said, "Just a little hill up ahead, you can do it!"

Little hill my ***.

They were really little hills compared to what I've conquered in the past. But for some reason this morning, I got beat -- completely mentally defeated. I felt like I couldn't take another step. And so I began walking the hills, as did most around me. I ran as fast as I could on the flat portions, which wasn't very fast at all. And I began to think to myself, "just walk the next 4 miles. Or maybe, just quit."

Upon reaching the high point (around mile 10) I felt relief running down hill. It was crucial though I did not fall, so I kept a keen eye on the ground. One more hit to this wrist, I'm gonna end up in the E.R.!

I don't think I could have smiled at this point if I tried. Even on the downhill, I felt I couldn't run another step. And then when we finally leveled off, I did something I thought I'd never do on the flat portion of a race -- I walked. I wanted to quit. I wanted to just walk away from the group and pretend I never started this race. I was SPENT, and doubted that I'd ever run again. I wondered, "What the hell am I doing? Could I be any bigger of a loser." (I'm sorry, but that's really how I felt, utterly and completely defeated.)

And I continued walking as fast as I could, one ambulance passing, then another up a ways loading up another runner. Marines stood out on their balconies watching us come in, and I still walked, feeling ashamed, my eyes to the ground. I mean come on -- 13.1 miles on a trail race with not even 2,000 feet of elevation gain. I can do that -- can't I?

Not today.

Then I remembered a marine yelling out, "just one more bridge to go!" I didn't recall any bridges on this race, but up ahead, I saw a bridge, and so told myself, "when you hit that bridge RUN."

I ran over that bridge, and after a turn in the now paved road, I could see the finish line balloons not too far off. I saw one female racer cut through the parking lot, shortening her run to those balloons. She must have felt like I felt -- SPENT, out of gas.

I finally crossed that finish line at 2:25:55 with the sad, sad feeling that I was finished running for good. I was reminded of Forrest in Forrest Gump when he just stopped running because he simply didn't feel like running anymore.

After crossing the finish line, I grabbed 2 waters, walked straight to the car for a quick stretch. Before leaving the marine base, I filled up the car with much less expensive gasoline than we civilians usually pay, and I drove home.

I wept at home relaying the race story to my husband. I told him that I thought I was done running. That I had been mentally beaten, to which he responded "you're no quitter . . . you just need a break."

That I do.

I guess I have made my decision. No marathon for October, and as I cut back my miles I will finally make it to the doctor for x-rays on my foot and wrist.

And that is the story of my heartbreak at Heartbreak Ridge. Who knew that the title of this race would be so apropos.

Final Standings:

I placed 32 out of 47 women ages 40 to 44.

Overall I placed 781 out of 1,079 civilians.

Solo Run in Aliso and Wood Canyons

After dropping our sons off at school, I took off for my weekly posted run in Aliso / Wood Canyons, this time solo. While I miss the company and the encouragement of the group run, solitude is nice too. I can appreciate both. That's one of the nice things of youth finally being behind you -- it's easier to recognize the benefits in both sides of the coin. And it's easier to "make due" with whatcha got.

So, this morning, I got me a solo, beneath gorgeous blue skies, enormous puffy white clouds, long hilly run. Earphones plugged in, I thought to myself, now's a good time to work through that missing chapter from my novel that I need to write ASAP, else it never get written. But it's a disturbing chapter, and after working through it only a few minutes, my heart pained with sadness, and I decided that my brain couldn't dwell in the darkness on this beautiful trail run. (Though I did work it out enough to know where it was headed and finally wrote the chapter when I got home from work tonight).

The sun shined brightly and hot, as I expected at 8:30 in the morning. Those puffy clouds though, provided enough shade to comfort me, and an onshore breeze added even more delight to this morning's run. While still on Aliso Creek Trail, a large deer, with two stubby velvet antlers on each side, trotted down the path ahead of me. I was amazed -- first by it's size, and secondly by its lack of concern by my presence. Then this gorgeous creature turned into the brush and disappeared towards the creek.

There were bunnies out and about, hawks flying overhead, and black beetles robotically making their way across the trail. And there were lots of tracks -- deer tracks, coyote and bobcat, plus another, large birdlike track, that I haven't identified -- perhaps quail (because I see them often here), but these tracks seem a little big from what I figure Quails would make.

ANYWAY, I ran up Mathis this morning. It's been a long time, and I don't believe that the run up that steep, exposed climb has gotten any easier. But what a delight to do it! My mind didn't wander towards finances, or district budget cuts, or chapters that need to be written, running up that thing. No, I just thought about one foot in front of the other, and not stopping. Do not stop running. Do not stop!

From Mathis, I hit Westridge, which gives some relief at first with a minor down hill, possibly an 1/8th mile, probably less. Then it's uphill on rocky, mixed in with sandy dirt to the Top of the World.

Westridge on the way down was a delight with that ocean breeze and rolling hills. I didn't turn off on Mathis, but continued straight on until Rockit (with a slight delay to fix my camelback, which somehow managed to get air in it). I focused hard on Rockit, so as not to fall in a desolate area where I usually see no one. Then all of a sudden, a female cyclist emerged out of nowhere, spooking us both. We smiled, kinda chuckled.

At the bottom, I turned off onto that enchanted Coyote Run, thankful for the occassional breeze, and plentiful shade above the creek here and there. Upon reaching Mathis, my skin crusted with salt, I joyfully made my way back to Wood Canyon and ran on in all the way to the ranger station, beat, but not beaten.

Lovely run.

Miles logged this morning: 11.27

SBSD Mudrun (What am I thinking??)

So, I was watching a television show this week, called "Wipe-Out", and thought to myself "these people are crazy." I mean, they're putting themselves through terrible obstacles, wiping out in front of everyone for the mere chance of winning $50,000. And a slight chance at that!

When I woke first at 4 AM this morning I couldn't remember what the heck I had gotten myself into for this Saturday morning. Then when my alarm finally rang at 4:45, I thought hard before remembering -- that's right, I gotta get going, I have a long drive ahead, not to mention a mudrun to endure. : ) : (

As I drove through the Santa Ana Mountains, focusing through the fog, sleepy still, and bit hungry too, I thought to myself "What the heck am I doing? I mean, am I crazy? What is my problem that I drag myself out of bed at these ridiculous hours, hit the rode before sunrise? And there's no chance of winning a dime. Not even a chance of placing, or even placing in my age group." I began to grow a bit down . . . what is it exactly that I'm trying to prove?

It was light when I arrived to Kurt's (a friend I have known since I was 12). And as usual, out of darkness, things looked a little brighter. On que, my comedian friend quickly cheered me as we made our way to Devore for the San Bernardino Sheriff Department's Mudrun. This was our second year running the same mudrun together. Last year, though only a 5k, it was tough.

Kurt had not pre-registered, and because he only brought credit cards along, couldn't register this morning. And for the first time in a race, I ran alongside a bandit. That made for some excitement. I don't know what they do to race bandits -- were the deputies going to pull him out of the race, or worse yet, catch him at the Start Line, taser him on the spot?

Clean and Pristine Pre-Race (Maybe Not Exactly Pristine)


Turned out, no one noticed my bandit friend as we ran this muddy race together. Well, I'm sure he was noticed, as my friend is quite a character, flirting with all the young ladies we passed. But no one noticed that he was a bandit. We ran up steep climbs, ran through mud pits. We ran up and down moguls, crawled through thick, sticky mud, slipped in the mud, fell in the mud. We jumped over obstacles, ran through giant pipes, all admist loud explosives -- and, ALL FOR THE FUN OF IT!

Hmmmm.

It was fun, despite the pain (those wipeout people -- they're crazy!). My socks filled with mud, and those fine granules dug at my ankles like sharp rocks. But in no time, it was over. 3.11 miles, even with all those obstacles, well, it's practically over before you know it.

Anyway, Kurt and I finished together (I bettered my time from last year & because he wanted to run together Kurt's time was longer this year -- but it was all for fun, who cares about time. Right? Right.)

Me and Kurt

How One Removes The Mud

Photos I Snapped On Our Way to the Car of Runners Coming in for the Finish : )

"Make New Friends and Keep the Old. One is Silver and the Other's Gold."

Wood Canyon in its Summertime Glory (A Pictorial -- mainly :)

As this newfound back-to-school freedom begins to set in, we found ourselves this Friday with some spare time. And so, my husband and I decided on a hike through the lovely Wood Canyon. We started plenty late (about 10 AM) after tending to work, errands and such. And so it was rather warm. I take that back -- it was more than warm . . . it was hot. But we had a nice cool breeze for occasional comfort, plenty of shade, and a beautiful Wood Canyon in all its summertime glory.

Enter Wood Canyon

Buckwheat along the trail

The Lovely Wood Creek Trail

Stairway to Heaven? Think not, but a beautiful trip through Wood Creek Trail

Why I love Wood Creek Trail

Crossing Back over to Wood Canyon Trail

Creek along Coyote Run Trail

Coyote Run Trail


Prickly Pear (Coyote Run Trail)

More Coyote Run Trail

Somewhere on Dripping Cave Trail

Miles hike with husband this morning: 6

Quickest Route to Top of the World

My goal: a short run, but I didn't want it easy, and I wanted trails (which goes without saying that I didn't want easy). I began running at about 9:45 AM, which was problematic due to the heat. But I was determined anyway to once again, run to the top. To make that trip in about five miles, well, that was a first for me. Usually, I do some kind of loop to get to the top and back, totalling between ten and twelve miles. But there is a way in fact, that's much shorter (definitely not much easier)-- it's up that Cholla, then that rolling Westridge to the top.

I took off on a paved downhill from the grassy Canyon Vista Park. As a cool breeze blew, music piped in through my earphones aiding in my determination to run all the way, no matter how hot it got. And it got hot. Hot, hot, hot. Pretty quickly, I ran through that wall of heat and my feet hit the dirt a few minutes in. Then it was exposed trail for the entire distance. Up, up, and away I went on Cholla, which is quite short, about 1/3 mile, but steep, sometimes rocky, and all sunny.

At Top of the World, I talked with a few cyclists before turning around and returning the same way, up and down Westridge, then down Cholla. This was my first trip down Cholla, and needless to say, I focused hard on keeping my balance. About half way down, I took a phone call (so odd these modern days!) from my old-time friend calling to say he'd run Saturday's crazy race with me. "I'm on a sunny slope right now, can I call you back?"

And though I powered up some of those hilly portions (mainly the short ones), I took that last paved hill up to the car running rather slowly. I reached the car absolutely drenched and covered in salt, after only 5.9 miles.

But I loved it. : ) AND . . . I did not fall : )

You Are Now Entering Cholla Trail -- Tread Lightly and do not Fear : )

About a Quarter Way Up Cholla, Looking Back to Trail Entrance and Wood Cyn

Up Up and Away / Summertime on Cholla Trail

A Sad Freedom

Not one of us here got good sleep last night -- much on my mind, I'm pretty sure that I woke every hour. Just before waking for good, I dreamt that I rollerbladed along the asphalt Aliso Woods Trail. Then I daringly crossed over the "Closed" section, the one that intersects Wood Canyon Trail, and doesn't have a gate. It's just simply closed off to travelers. I breezed over that thing on blades, enjoying the freedom, until the trail took a turn toward the creek. Then after a sharp right I discovered a hidden treasure of a trail. It ran alongside the creek, beside secret homes for the privledged who had to access this heavenly trail.

Well, I scooted down a steep slope in my blades to access this dirt trail, when I found myself on a richly manicured lawn and before me, a gigantic wildcat. She was as tall as my shoulders, grayish-brown, and a cross between a cougar and a lion. Basically, it was a cougar with a mane. Well, I backed up slowly, moving my way up that incline. And just as I was about to hop back up onto that paved trail and skate away, the rangers drove by. Fearful that the cougar-lion might pounce, but more afraid of the rangers, I ducked and hid there until the rangers were good and gone. Then I hopped up on the trail and raced along the asphalt trying to make it back to the public road before the rangers caught me on a closed portion. But there was snow everywhere now, and hikers kept stopping me to ask the way. Frustration grew when I finally woke.

So what does that dream mean?

I have no idea. I'm sure in some way, it symbolically tells the story of sending my boys off to school today. Sure, I looked forward to this day. Today, I would gain my daytime freedom. No more nagging, no more 3 boys fighting. But it was very sad too. No more three boys lounging around the living room during breakfast, no more three boys laughing too loud in the morning. I missed them terribly, and ruminated over the fact that our guys are growing up so, so fast.

And so what did I do when all the dropping off at schools was complete?

That's easy. I'm sure there's no guessing here. 9:20 AM, I clipped my ipod to my belt, and I ran. Beneath cloudy skies, I ran down to the state beach, then through the smoky campground, and out onto that long stretch that used to kill me nearly six years ago. The tide was high, and when the sun finally broke through the clouds, its shine created thousands of fluctuating silver glimmers across the sea.

The wind blew cool, the sun beared down hot, and I ran some more. I ran out to the rock jetty where old fishermen threw out lines into still waters. Across the way, hundreds of pelicans mulled about the filling station dock. Plenty of other runners made the rounds too -- perhaps they also had sent children off for their first day back to school.

And I ran some more, through the wharf, its restaurants practically empty of tourists, seaguls prancing along roof tops, flies swarming in their glory at back door entrances.

And I ran some more beneath the bridge in cool shade, then up and over it to my island. Squirrels with tummies bulging ran across my path. But it was the walkers who blocked my path. Drinking fountains quenched my thirst, all the while, I thought about nothing. Nothing.

And I ran some more.

I didn't stop until I reached the cliffs. Waves crashed upon the jetty, sending easy, routine splashes toward the trail. I stopped for a second here, noticing a burn in my arms from my shirt seams. After rubbing chapstick along my arms, I took off running again. And I took that big hill home as fast as I could, no hands on the hips, just looking to the ground, listening to my music, thinking about nothing.

Freedom is definately kinda sad.

Miles logged this morning: 11.36

# of other runners on my route: 19