On the Trail Again

I finally made it back out on the trail, this time on a group run.  (Trail runs are far and few between nowadays -- I'm gonna have to bite the bullet and get to the doctor for this hip.)  It was great to see my good running friend Tom and meet a new running friend Jeff. 

The weather was beautiful for this President's Day run.  I dressed for a cold morning and by the first stop, 1 1/2 miles in at the Wood Canyon Trail entrance, I had to tie my longsleeves around my race.

We took Wood Canyon in a little ways, then up Dripping Cave Trail we ran -- gosh it's been ages since I've seen Robber's Cave.  Its roof was covered with lush green ferns. 

Tom turned back at the cave for a 5 mile round trip, while Jeff and I continued on out of Dripping Cave Trail to hit Mathis.  We ran down Mathis toward the creek.  Looking back up Mathis we could see a cluster of runners making their way up the steep climb.  That's something I hardly ever see.  Maybe a cluster of hikers, or cyclists, but not runners on Mathis (not unless I'm in the group).

Jeff and I continued running up Wood Canyon, crossed over the stream and passed the Old Corral and turned around at the bridge at the second stream crossing.  High school cross country runners were making their way in as we ran back on Wood Canyon, chatting along the way, agreeing on everything.  He has much the same philosophy as I regarding running and things.

Pleasant run indeed.  The bummer part was my hip ached a little more than usual for the rest of the day.

Miles logged on Monday:  7

Getting ready to take off

Me, Tom and Jeff

Twin Peaks 50/50 Indian Truck Trail Aid Station

Woke at 3:00 A.M. Saturday.  Out the door by 3:15, arriving about an hour later to the Twin Peaks 50/50 (that is 50 kilometer / 50 mile endurance race) starting in Corona.  It was dark of course, as volunteers busily packed their cars for the first shift of the day.  Our crew was to "man" the station 6.5 miles into the race, the Indian Truck Trail aid station (where the 50 milers would pass by 3 times, and the 50 k runners 2 times).  In our "crew":  myself, Kathryn, Birgett, Mark Ryne (whom I first met at the '08 Get Your Kicks on Route 66 Half Marathon), the photographer, two charming radio guys (true gentlemen), and our favorite Forestry fire captain, who was once referred to as "Hollywood" (because he was born in North Hollywood -- I was born in North Hollywood too) -- anyway, we referred to him as well as  "Hollywood."  

We didn't all head off to the station together; no, it didn't go that smoothly.  We three women took off first under darkness, the back filled with supplies, water, food, etc.  Thing was, we couldn't take that 6.5 mile road directly up the mountain to our station, because it was closed to automobiles due to storms.  Word was, parts of the trail had "collapsed."

This is how it went:  We got onto the freeway, exiting in Lake Elsinore and headed up Ortega Hwy -- TO THE TOP.  The city lights view was spectacular, the lake a giant black void.  That cliff going up though, made me a little nervous.  It always has, which is why I never take that route anywhere.  Ever. 

We were looking for the "radio guy in a truck,  parked in front of a gate."  He would give us directions to the Indian Truck Trail spot to set up our aid station.  Searching the dark Highway 74, to no avail for quite some time, we suddenly came upon a truck, parked in front of a gate overlooking the city.  When Birgett jumped out of the car and ran up to that truck, I said "Man, I wish I brought my pepper spray."  I saw her tap on the window, then she rushed back to our car, jumped back in. 

"Not him," she said.  "Let's Go."

"Well, who was he, what was he doing?" we asked.  

"I don't know what he was doing, I don't want to know what he was doing, let's just get out of here."

We all nervously laughed.

Well, we finally found another guy in a truck parked in front of a gate (just how many guys park their trucks in front gates  up there on the mountain?  ; )  This time, we got it right.  He told us the way, and we were off -- through Blue Jay Campground on a paved road, then onto a dirt road, until finally, FINALLY, we came upon a locked gate.  Birgett and I jumped out, she with the key, we both pushed about the heaviest gate in the whole wide world open for Kathryn to drive through. 

We were off again, but not on a smooth ride.  The first runners were estimated to reach our station at 6:10 and we were fast approaching that.  The road was rocky, in some places steep, at times riding on the edge of a cliff.  We bottomed-out often and slowed at every turnout hoping to see that table for us to set up the station.  Nothing.  For a few miles, we climbed, the road getting rockier and rockier, until finally . . . we were STUCK.  Poor Kathryn's car would move no further.  It smelled of burnt rubber; her engine light went off.

Who knew how close we were to the station.  All we knew was that 1)  it was still dark but we had little time to spare, 2) we had too much equipment to carry it in, and 3) we had NO PHONE SERVICE.  But what did that matter?  We couldn't call the race director, because we didn't have her cell number!  Yikes! 

After hiking to a high point, we found service on our cells.  Kathryn phoned home, I believe, asking someone to look through her e-mail for the Jessica, the race director's number.   (How silly was I not to get her cell number before taking off -- mental note -- GET THE CELL NUMBER, ESPECIALLY WHEN GOING OFF INTO UNKNOWN, DARK MOUNTAIN ROADS :)

What to do, what to do . . . ?

"I know someone who knows Jessica," I said. 

"Well, CALL THEM," my fellow aid station workers responded in unison. 

It was 6:00 AM, when I uncomfortably phoned Tom's cell.  I felt awkward, not wanting to wake his family.  But then again, I was pretty sure he's an early riser.  No Answer.  I left a message. 

So there we were, three women, just before dawn, standing on a cold mountain, a car (stuck in the road) full of supplies for endurance runners, wondering what we should do.  I was for hiking it in.  We were three runners, we could hike into anywhere -- it could take us who knows how long (we still had no idea where the station was) and chances were, we couldn't get much of the supplies in by foot.  But what else were we to do?  We were concerned about missing those first runners.  That really was the top issue.   

And then, there was a rumble in the road, and headlights appeared. The radio guys!!!  We packed all our gear into the back of their truck.  As we discussed how they would push Kathryn's car out of the road with their truck, another set of headlights appeared!  Rescued.  The forestry service drove up, and he ("Hollywood" -- I don't recall his actual name) stoically got Kathryn's car out of the rut, and backed it into a safe spot.  There was no way her car was going to make it to the top.  It just didn't have the clearance needed. (In hindsight, I'm guessing we were about 6 miles from our station at that point)

I saw the writing on the wall -- there was one extra space in the radio truck and one extra seat in the forestry service truck.  That left one person walking.  So, I zipped up my coat and headed up the mountain.  Believe me, I felt happy, at home, to hike up a steep trail.  What I didn't feel happy about, nor did my fellow aid workers, was that we probably weren't going to make the station by the time the first runners made it through.  Big bummer -- and on my first volunteer!  (It was Kathryn and Birgett's first volunteer as well). But what an adventure, I'll tell ya!  What an adventure!

Car stuck, aid arrives as clock ticks away 

  

Racing against the clock, the first and second wave of runners have already left the start line : (

"Hollywood", Birgett and Kathryn (after getting car to side of road)

I enjoyed that hike as the sun  began to show its face above the horizon.  The radio truck passed me near the top of that first climb, which I cleared before the Fire Service even started his truck.  They caught up with me on a level portion.  They slowed, when the Fire Captain (I don't know his official title, but he was a Captain to me) called out, "Get in, if you guys don't mind sitting on each other's laps."  After walking a good mile (I'm sure more with the elevation), I hopped on in. Kathryn and I shared one bucket seat with the promise not to tell anyone.  Shhhhh!  Things are official with the Feds.  There was only ONE PASSENGER IN THAT TRUCK, AND THAT'S ALL I'M SAYING : ))

Then not too soon after that, the front runners started passing us on the road.  (Big Bummer -- there was no aid for them at the first station!)  Birgett doled out water from the radio truck up front, as well as, attempted to record the runners passing her.

One of the front runners was Larry G. (see Bulldog August 09), whom I have run with on a occassion.  Of course, I haven't really run "with" him, being that he is a far surperior runner.  But we have at least started off on runs together.  And then travelling upon that rocky, cliff road, we came upon another group of runners.   One of those runners that I wanted to see cross my station was Catra (Dirt Diva) . She was travelling in that cluster of runners as we passed, smiling of course as she does in her blogs.

We finally arrived at our aid site a little before 7:00 AM, approximately 2 hours later than planned!!!!  We set up the table ASAP,  sandwiches made, water and cups out, etc. etc.  I don't know the actual temperature up there on that ridge, but I'd say it was freezing.  I was layered good, three shirts, coat, wool beanie, gloves, even warm socks to my knees.  We were in time to aid the tail end of the first wave and of course all of the second and remaining waves.  Kathryn and Birgett pleasantly greeted them all at the table, while I recorded times.  The radio guys set up there radio and antenna, and began calling in runner numbers with times. 

There were periods of no runners, then occassionally, one would come through.  Then suddenly a small cluster of runners would come through that first approximate 7 mile stretch.  (I grew excited about running again, as my hip ached sitting in my chair).  Some time into this all, Mark and the photographer arrived (mental note:  get the names next time!)  And we all had a pleasant, quite cold, morning together, runners sparse on this mountain trail.  I saw lots of familiar faces, mainly from blogs I read.  I also saw fellow club member, Dave, (see Christmas Eve 09 run).  In all, there were 3 waves of fifty mile runners and 2 waves of 50k runners.
The Benchmark at our station spot (Elevation 3800 feet)

Sodas, water, electrolytes, skittles, m&m's, bananas, oranges, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, chips, pretzels, potatoes, salt / most popular items: water, potatoes, salt, and sandwiches.


Indian Truck Trail (what the runners see approaching our station)

Views from our station:

Runners coming into Indian Truck Trail Station (next aid 4 miles @ West Horsethief)

Walking down Indian Truck Trail a bit to take a look

"Sweepers" in their trucks drove by periodically.  Radio communications between stations and the start lines went on pretty much continually.  At one point, a young woman jumped out of the "sweeper" car and handed us three gigantic, beautiful submarine sandwiches.  The runners were all a delight, friendly, comical, and grateful.  Some ran up with gusto, others quite slowly, fatigued from the six and a half mile climb.  Very few runners ran past our station without stopping.  Some stayed for a minute or two, others for several minutes.  Some runners dropped their gloves, jackets and stuff beneath our table to pick up on their way into the finish.  And then there was a lull -- all waves had passed our stations.  The next time we'd see any runners would be the 50k racers on their way into the finish line, much later, we'd be seeing the 50 milers coming around for another loop. 

"Hollywood", Kathryn and Birgett

"Hollywood", Me and Birgett

Runners stopping for fuel

Indian Truck Trail Gang (from left to right): Me, Mark, Birgett, "Hollywood", Kathryn, Radio guys

At about 11:00 AM, we started getting the beginnings of 50 milers who had run off course. The first guy, turned around and headed back. Not all of the off coursers did that, instead, they said, "Heck, I'm switching to the 50k," and headed on into the finish line. They were all in good spirits about it. About half turned back, about half switched races. At about 1:00 the official end of our shift, but it looked like there wasn't going to be a shift change for a while, Birgett and I headed off to the 50M/50K split where the fifty milers were taking the wrong turn. "Hollywood" gave us some red tape and a black pen and with the report from one runner that it was about a half a mile away, we headed up a nice climb that was nowhere near a half mile. We laughed about that, taking in an amazing scene of valleys and forests. We stopped two runners we met on the way who had taken the wrong turn -- as they headed back to the split, they caught two other runners, who turned back with them.

About half way to the split, we threw our jackets to the side and marched on. While marking up the split best we could, we met another runner coming down -- an amazing runner, Greg who was hilarious. He had Birgett and I both cracking up as we headed back down the trail.

The shift change happened after 2 o'clock. Hank was also coming in for his shift -- he was "sweeping" by foot the trails inaccessible by truck. The mood was festive and gleeful, exciting, chaotic as more and more 50k runners made their way for the finish, and 50 milers began to cross by the Indian Truck Trail station for the second time (the 38 mile mark for them).  We caught a ride with a sweeper who took that mountain road at record speed. I closed my eyes when the road dipped and the truck tilted toward the cliff. We finally rolled on into the finish line about 3:30.

What a day! What a great crowd!  What a great mountain!  I am running Twin Peaks next year for sure! I better get working.

Another Amazing Runner (as she crosses the finish line just about the time we arrive)

Give it a Rest.

Had just about a half hour spare time on Thursday.  So, I hit the pavement once more at the marina.  Seems two days in a row on pavement was not good for the hip.  It ached the entire short run.  Dang it.  Funny, I enjoyed the run still.  Up and over to the island, blue skies, pelicans hanging out at the back doors of restaurants -- it was all there, even the blonde squirrels scurryring about the jetty rocks.  Can't beat that.

But I can.  Heal this hip I say!

Miles logged Thursday: 3.66

Though I had plenty time on Friday, I did not run.  I wanted to -- my favorite local trails are open.  But I gave it a rest -- nah . . . not really.  I spent a couple hours in the gym, during which half of that time, I swam laps.  I have to say it was wonderful, yes because of the low impact, but mainly because of the fact that I simply cannot think about anything when I swim laps.  Otherwise I lose count.  And I don't want to lose count.  : )  (Swam 2,050 yards)

Trails CLOSED. %#3@%&!!!

Off and on storms have closed the local trails.  I keep hoping, checking park websites, phoning, to no avail.  My plan to increase weekly mileage back up to where I was at the end of 2009, looks dim right now.  With the hip so slowly healing and now another injury, a bruised tailbone after a household fall, I haven't been in the best of moods. 

HAVE HOPE.  Have Hope.  I've got to have hope.

I drove down to the wharf this morning for what I was hoping would turn into about a five mile run.  The weather was cold, the skies blue.  Most the runners, and many were out, wore pants, including myself.  I added to that a cashmere beanie, gloves and long-sleeved fleece.  It was beach cold, not Back East cold, so I should have been counting my lucky stars that I could get out there and run in the first place.

I headed off first into Doheny Beach, experiencing difficulty due to the pain from my fall.  I was a little pissed, but plugged away nonetheless.  Thousands of seaguls meandered about the sand, occassionally a flock of a hundred or so of those white birds would rise up against the cool breeze only to settle down a few feet away.  I really tried to focus on these outwardly things, escape from reality -- ordinary troubles, and that dang tailbone.  My anger grew as I ran along the boardwalk, and I knew . . . I knew, this wasn't good for a run.  At best, I was gonna put in about 3 miles at the rate I was going.

Finally, I put in a call home, a rant call, getting some weight off my chest.  And with all intentions of putting in another mile or so, I planned on calling it a day, hopping in the car and heading off elsewhere to fume.  Before turning back, I ran out to the campgrounds, circled it once, noting only a few campers.  I ran back though Doheny, the boardwalk busy with runners and walkers alike.  Noticing something in the sand, something resembling a large palm frawn, I ran off to investigate.  The closer I got, I knew, and that sinking feeling rose.  That palm frawn in the sand was a sprawled out dead pelican, those glorious birds that I love so much.  I turned away quickly, saddened.

I ran out to the rock jetty on the way back to the car.  The usual busy Doheny waves were empty of surfers.  The jetty also was void of fisherman.  I brushed the thought of that poor pelican from my mind, along with every other thing going on right now and ran some more.  Enjoying my music, it seemed, my pace picked up some, and my injury said "ouch" less often.  My hip in fact, did not complain at all.  As I headed back to the car, I thought, "you gotta run through the wharf, at least do that." 

And that I did.  It was beautifully lonesome, a serene Pacific Ocean slapping at its edges.  Coming out of the wharf, I saw my dog walking friend, Sherri.  We waved as we passed one another.  Approaching the parking lot, I thought, heck, just run a little further.  And so I ran alongside the yachts, crossed under the bridge, then ran up and over it.  But then I kept on running.  At first I told myself to do half of the island, but then kept on running and did the entire island, plus a little more, finally arriving at my car feeling better, less angry, a little more hopeful.

Miles logged this morning:  7

Surf City 5K

February 2008 I ran my first "Run Surf City" event.  The wind blew hard and it poured rain.  It was pretty miserable, but I did get a pretty cool finisher's medal and ended up with great pictures of me drenched and all.  Well, those Surf City people really know how to hook people like me, people who are easily amused with shiny things. 

After that 2008 race, I received an e-mail with this information:  run any Surf City event three years in a row,  become a Longboard Legacy Club member, get a special shirt and a neat little emblem to attach to my finishers medal.  I bought. 

And so today, 38 races later, and nearly 2,000 miles later, I woke at 5:00 AM, to head out to Huntington Beach for my third year Surf City event.  Storming all week, I feared a repeat of '08.  Fortunately, that didn't happen.  Instead, we had blue skies with majestic white puffy clouds.

I parked at the Civic Center (for free!) and took a shuttle in (a big yellow school bus : ).  My whole intention for this race was just to run and have good time.  That I did.  The race was well organized, sending us off in waves (I love that, because it thins the masses).  I took off in the third wave and just simply ran.  I didn't really feel like I was racing; I was just running and listening to my music.  I really didn't care for a personal record either.  In fact, I don't like 5k's much because it takes me about 4 miles to warm up and gain top speed.  5k's are only 3.11 miles.  Heck; I don't even care about speed anyway.  I just like running them races, and finishing : )

2010 Surf City 5k Finishing Medal -- The yellow piece just beneath the Surf City logo is my piece for being a Longboard Legacy Club Member.

 

Hanging Among My Shiny Things

Final Stats:

Clock time: 31:18 (not a pr, but happy with)

placed 33 out of 183 females ages 40-44

placed 348 out of 1,636 females

placed 771 out of 2,494 runners

Racing Hikers

The weather was cold this morning, dark and cloudy with little spots of brilliant blue poking through.  I ran through Canyon Vistas Park carrying a full Dasani water -- can't find the strap for my handheld in this house.  I suppose it will show up come spring cleaning : ) 

Cholla was tough but I made it on a full run.  Westridge has some ups and downs which makes the climbing a bit easier -- except for the end, which is climb, climb, climb.  About that point, I saw three blonde hikers off in the distance (all dressed in black), and I had it in my mind to pass them.  They had nearly completed their climb and were well on their way to Top of the World.  As I gained on the three, it got so close to the top that I figured that I wouldn't make it there first.  At that very last dip, I lost sight of the three women, and then there they were, practically right in front of me, with mere yards to the finish.  So, I sprinted on past them and laughed at myself for racing three hikers who didn't even know they were in a race.

I stretched at the Top of the World, looked down at the Laguna Beach and a gray Pacific Ocean.  My mood was tranquil.  The run back was delightful.  Small streaks of sun broke through the clouds to shine on the parts of the lush canyon below.  I admired its beauty.

I ran on back into the park, stretched a good deal then headed off to the gym for some light weights, oblivious to the e-mail awaiting me from my work that would throw the whole day off. 

Not out of work, just getting played (politics!)  Anyone know who's hiring in the O.C.? 

Miles logged this morning:  6.0

To Run or Not to Run.

It was gonna rain; it wasn't gonna rain.  I thought, "Heck, I'll give my hip a rest," and I thought, "Waaa, I wanna run." 

I dressed for a run just in case.  I thought I'd do a flat road run, then changed to a flat trail run . . . but if I did rain, off to the gym I'd go.  It's hard for me not to know exactly what I'm gonna do.  : )

Turns out the skies were gray and cloudy when I dropped my baby off at preschool -- but no rain dropped from those clouds.  Last minute, I decided to jumpstart out of these blues by running to the Top of the World in Laguna Beach.  But I was only gonna take the short route (5.9 miles round trip).  Uhhh . . . well, I think I can blame this on my husband, because when I phoned him with my plans to run to the Top of the World from Canyon Vistas Park, he said this:  "And you're gonna run across over to Meadows and come back that way?"

Hmmm . . .  "Maybe," I said.  "I just might."  Being that I am the planner, I actually decided right then and there: If my hip does not hurt, I'm running the loop!

No camelback, not even a handheld, I guzzled a bottle of water in the car, and because I just can't run with a regular bottle of water (ie. no strap), I ran toward Cholla Trail holding an empty Dasani bottle.  I took Cholla Trail much stronger than last time I ran it.  By the time I reached the top, I was dang glad for having changed out of my fleece shirt at the car in exchange for a t-shirt (my Bulldog T :)

Westridge was a delight, and difficult, and downright cold -- perfect running weather when you don't have water.  I reached the Top of the World, triumphantly.  Off in the distance fog hovered over the Pacific Ocean, as I guzzled down at the fountain.  I saw Cathy running down into the park (she was again doing the opposite loop).  After guzzling down some more from the fountain, I stretched, filled my Dasani bottle and took off through the neighborhoods to meet up with one of my favorite trails about a mile away -- Meadows. 

The descent was joyous.  Our storms had hardened the dirt and left deep crevices.  My right ankle felt a little weak too -- perhaps because the downhill run had less give than usual.  I pondered how I might strengthen my ankle and made a mental note to google it at home.  I didn't begin to tire a great deal until I hit Wood Canyon Trail.  Usually when I make it to Wood Canyon, I've got just 1 1/2 miles to the car (because I usually park at the ranger station).  But today, about 5 miles remained of the loop, and that took a bit of my mental power.  Just a bit though, not enough to stop me from finishing this run all the way to the end.

Miles logged today:  9.65

Injury report:  Though a couple hours later, my hip ached more than usual, it's back to it's current state, stiff and slightly achey.  Again, no better or worse from running.