Short Run at Disney

For a final mini-vacation before summer we took the family to the Disneyland Hotel (great discounts for annual passholders).  We pretty much spent all day in the Never-Never-land pool.  Needless to say, I was wiped out when I woke at 6:30 AM today.  My family thought I was pretty ridiculous to get up and run on a one day vacation. 

That’s my name – call me ridiculous : )

But, but, but . . . I didn’t run the day before, and it was time to run.  I only put in a few miles anyway.  They were tranquil but so, so hard.  That chlorine and sun and calories and sleeping in a strange place really wiped me out!

So, as the resort prepared for the Disney Half Marathon (setting up Start Line, Porta Potties, tents, etc), I ran through a downright empty Downtown Disney. 

You Never See Downtown Disney this Empty!  Never.

I have to say these 3.25 miles were about the hardest I’ve run in a long, long time.  It was like I wasn’t a runner at all.  Still I’m glad I went ahead and put in a little time. 

Scenes from the “Trail”

Colorful Roses at the Empty Wedding Gazebo

Even the ground is Interesting at Disney

And then we had breakfast at Goofy’s kitchen – the most expensive breakfast you can imagine, not unmatched by the most caloric breakfast you’ll ever eat!  I’m afraid those 3.25 miles didn’t put a dent in breakfast : )

No Place I’d Rather Be

I set my alarm for 6:30 and every time I hit the snooze button, my five-year-old (who had snuck into our bed) complained that I was waking him up.  After complain #3, I decided it was time to make a go at it, and so up I went and got ready for a run.  Thing is, I didn’t want to run.  Motivation, love for running is down right now.   But I forced myself this week, because I know that I’ll want to run again, and when I do, I don’t want to be out of shape.

I wasn’t sure where to run.  It would have been easier to just run out of the door and down to the marina.  But I wanted to go to Top of the World.  I didn’t want to run to the Top of the World, I just wanted to be there.  I wanted to stand up there, take it all in.  I sat on the couch for an hour before I got moving.

I still wasn’t sure how long I would run, what trails I’d take, but I knew I was going to the top.  I packed for a long run just in case and set out under lovely blue skies.  Up Cholla I ran, amazingly passing 6 cyclists (one had stopped to the rest, another was walking his bike : )  I simply stayed in the moment, placing one foot in front of the other, not a single thing on my mind. Then I ran West Ridge to Top of the World.  And I stood there and took it all in.  I felt tranquil, glad to have run to the top, even though I would have much rather slept the morning away.  Now taking in Laguna Beach and the Pacific Ocean and behind me the Santa Ana Mountains, well, there was no other place I’d rather be at that moment.

Top of the World

Concentrating on getting a good picture at the top without falling backward down the slope, I forgot to smile : )

Heading back, I ran West Ridge for a while.  Then I decided on a detour and ran down Rock It.  Lovely Rock It.  I came across a guy running up Rock It barefoot.  All the way down I noticed his barefoot tracks in the dirt as well as plenty of bobcat tracks. 

Bottom of Rock It, I hopped onto Coyote Run Trail and ran it Wood Canyon.  And then I ran back through Canyon Vistas park, content that I had made this morning’s run.

Entering Rock It Trail

Colorful even in the heat of Summer (Rock It)

 

The Fun Stuff (Focus, focus . . . )

Still running DOWN?? Rock It : )

Some Shade on this 1.25 mile trail (still Rock It)

Coyote Run Trail

Miles run:  7.73

Post Bulldog

The day of and the day after Bulldog DNF I felt nauseous.  I slept the first day pretty quickly.  When I woke, I found myself crying. 

Wednesday was my first day back to physical therapy.  And good news:  I have been released.  My physical therapist wasn't thrilled about my choices post Bulldog.  "Why not 10 miles instead of 18?"  he asked about Monday on the gym cycle.  And then about Tuesday, 6 miles is not a short run, how about 3 miles?  That's just about what my husband said too.

LOL.

And so after the gym on Thursday (About 6 miles on the elliptical and weights and core workouts), I went for a three mile run today, Friday.  Or so I thought.  I should say, that I aimed for a 3 mile run, but I cheated and eeked out a 3.7 mile run.

I'm such a cheater.

I gasped, nearly crying as I ran down PCH past our vet.  I still cry at the loss of my Daisy Dog, especially after my DNF at Bulldog. 

So much, too much this year.

Regardless, after 3 hours in the dentist's chair, today's 3.7 mile run was refreshing.  The skies were misty with clouds and a cool breeze blew through my pulled-back hair. 

I'm still a little tiffed, but it's not just all Bulldog.  It's pretty much life.  And unlike usual, running has been unable to erase the crap.

Nice N' Easy Slopes Today:

Back in the Saddle

All day Saturday after the race as well as Sunday, I felt nauseated.  I had no appetite, though I forced myself to eat.  I also took naps.  Sunday, my limbs were stiff, stiff, stiff, so I was sure to walk about doing chores and such.  Sitting was not a good thing – it was like I turned to stone when I sat.

Monday, I went to the gym, rode 18 miles on the bike, did weights and core work.  My muscles felt much looser. 

Tuesday, I felt it was time to get back out there and run.  I took off running out my front door in the evening.  The weather was humid, though I had a nice cool breeze blowing.  At first, I ran angrily, like I had a grudge against my body.  I tried to run fast, but I was still just so tired.  About half way in, I finally began to relax.  I told myself to ENJOY.  Sweating profusely, I did finally enjoy myself and I ran the big hill home (Golden Lantern) fairly easily.  Still, I was more fatigued than I would have normally been after only six miles.

A beauty of a night Tuesday.

Miles logged: 6.38

Running on the island, full moon’s reflection glistening across the harbor mouth – can’t beat that!

Bulldog 50k 2010

"Acceptance is the only way you can reintegrate such disparate, obnoxious, and unhappy aspects of yourself."
Matthew Pallamary, Spirit Matters

The drive out to Calabasas was painstakingly slow – bumper to bumper traffic on the 405 and the 101.  The hour and a half drive took us about three hours.  On the good side, we all found Calabasas charming.  And our hotel was lovely, not fancy, but clean and comfortable, downtown near a wonderful little restaurant.  I couldn’t have asked for a better pre-race night.  I did notice that the evening weather was much warmer than I’m used to.  I wasn’t worried.

Relaxing in Jacuzzi with oldest son the night prior to Bulldog 50k

Dinner at Cosmos Grill / Calabasas

I slept well.  The family drove out to Malibu Creek State Park to drop me off at 5:30 AM.  The sun had not risen, the weather was cool but not cold. 

My hip ached a bit, so I was sure to lay on a table and align it before taking off.  I felt okay, not great on the start.  It had after all, been an entire week since I’ve run. 

The creek bed on the left was dry on our run into the canyon.  I admired the view as the sun lit up the mountainside.  Surprisingly, the weather heated up quickly for such an early hour, pretty much as soon as we got out of the shade.  The climb up Bulldog Road was tortuous it was so dang hot.  By the time I reached the top of Bulldog, I was still smiling and had my wits about me. 

I could feel my hip had rotated forward from the Bulldog climb.  Finding a spot away from the runners, in the shade I laid on the ground to realign.  A woman sprayed me down with water (all the station workers were such a delight, so helpful and friendly).  Before getting my pack back on, that same woman rung a few large sponges of cold water over my head.  After grabbing some gel, and a red vine, I ran off for those several false summits.  IT WAS HOT.

The Climb has not begun

Aid Station # 1

Going Up, Up, Up (Bulldog Road)

Some down hills existed and flats as well, in the many climbs after Bulldog.  My legs threatened to cramp.  Having taken Endurolytes along the way as well as downed Pedialyte and water, of course, I began eating salt (CONSTANTLY, which kept the cramps just at bay).  Problem was, I could not cool myself down.  Even pouring water on my head at the stations, and drinking constantly, I grew unbearably hot. 

I knew my time was my worst ever on this course for one loop (I’ve run this loop 3 other times before).  I tried not to think about the second loop because I was so overheated as it was, that thoughts of the second loop only made me anxious.  And so I just simply focused and tried to relax my limps.  I ached, I mean ACHED for shade.  Finally running down a single track canopied by trees I halted, stooped forward, put my hands on my thighs and cooled down.  That cool down lasted for about a MINUTE.

Aid Station three I was beginning to lose my wits.  All I cared about was cooling down.  Nothing, I mean, nothing could do that.  I wrung a sponge of cold water over my head, drank up cold, cold drinks.  Then I took off running FORGETTING to grab calories.  Big mistake, I had only taken in about 400 calories so far. (But I was getting my electrolytes)

Once out of the shade, heat exhaustion reared its ugly head.  As runners gingerly stepped on rocks to cross the stream, I laid right down in the middle of it.  Feeling cool once again, I would have been content to lay there for the next several hours.  But I had to finish this race, so up I went, my clothes and shoes completely drenched to finish off the last 3 or so miles of the first loop. 

Out of the shade, the heat overwhelmed me AGAIN.  Going up Back Bone, I doubted I could make the cut off for Aid Station 4, which was 10:30 AM.  I had thirty minutes.  And Back Bone was excruciating – not just for myself, but it seemed for all the runners about me.  But I kept those arms pumping and marched what I hoped wouldn’t be the death march.  Unfortunately the wet clothes did not keep me cool.  Hope came when I gained some strength running the backside of Back Bone  It was mainly a nice long, shady switch back.   

I arrived at Aid Station #4 (about 15 miles into the race) with another woman runner, two minutes past the cutoff.  The station workers said it was up to us whether to continue, that we needed to talk it over.  The woman said, we should stop.  I said, “No way!”  As I scrambled for my drop bag the other woman and the station workers discussed a withdraw.  “No! No! No!”  I was actually yelling.  “I want to go!”  I really felt I could make the next cut off.

“You’re going to be the last one on the course,” someone said.

“No, there’s quite a few 50k runners behind us,” I argued. 

“As of now, we’re closing the course – the other runners won’t be able to continue.”  I moved faster, almost in a panic, to get back on the trail.   The sweeper took off, seeming angry that I was choosing to keep on.  “You got to keep up with me,” he yelled back looking over his shoulder.  Though he was probably a nice guy, I didn’t like the sweeper very much right then. : )

A female volunteer took the pouch out off my pack as I crouched down going through my drop bag.  She refilled me with water and I grabbed a cliff bar.  Just as I was about to dart off, a male station worker took my shoulders in his hands.  “Lauren,” he said.  “Look at me.  Listen to me . . . “

His words, his voice brought back a flurry of memories, strange things I had completely forgotten.  Things to remind me about my personality, my greatest downfall, yet oddly one of my best traits:  I don’t quit. 

“I need you to repeat after me,” he continued.  “I will run when I feel I can, but I will WALK when I need to.”

“Okay,” I mumbled.

“No, Lauren,” he said, “repeat after me . . . “

And so I repeated his words and took off running down the trail for another loop.  As I ran,  I thought about going up Bulldog and then running the ridge in the hottest part of the day.  I could not quit.  I could not quit! 

I wept as I ran down that trail.  I didn’t want to make the decision.  I COULDN’T MAKE THE DECISION.  I felt like a soldier on the battlefield wishing someone would shoot him in the leg so he could get out.  If I only had an injury, I thought.  If I had only twisted my ankle, then I would not be able to run, and I would have to withdraw – it wouldn’t be my choice. 

I had no injury, no twisted ankle, no cramps even, unfortunately no one had shot me in the leg.  I kept running, still unable to cool down, even in the shade.  And I began weeping because I knew that I HAD to make the decision.  I needed to beat my downfall – the fact that I don’t know when to quit.  I didn’t want to make the descent down that mountain in a stretcher.

And so I stopped. 

And I turned around and walked back that mile to Aid Station #4, weeping.

When one aid station worker saw me, he said “She’s back!”  The other, the one who made me repeat after him said, “Oh, Lauren!  I am so glad you came back – you made a very courageous decision.”

I don’t feel so courageous, I told him.  He could tell I wept behind my dark sunglasses.  “You’re sad because you’re not a quitter,” he said.  The station workers were all very friendly with kind words as I walked off to the crowds by the finish line.  I drank up anything cold I could find there – water, sports drinks, acai water.  Then I found a hose, apparently a volunteer noticed that I couldn’t keep the hose running.  She held the faucet on while I hosed myself down.  I thanked her, picked up my race t-shirt, stretched and walked to the front of the park where I sat in the stickers beneath a shady tree for a while waiting for my family to arrive. 

I never imagined it would be heat that took me down.  I was so careful to prepare for everything:  strength, endurance, cramps, fueling, hydration . . .   But I didn’t count on heat : )

Miles logged:  16

I’ve got some of all now (Did Not Finish, Dead Friggin’ Last, Did Not Show, and Finished)

1 DNF
1 DFL
2 DNS
54 Finishes

My Days of Rest

“I am my own affliction; I am own disease”

Switchfoot

Saturday, August 14 I proclaimed to myself and my running friends that I would not run again until Bulldog.  I would rest.  I kept my word.  I have not run, not even from the car to the front door. 

This is how I’ve spent my days of “rest” (besides reading, cleaning, and sleeping extra hours):

Sunday, I slept in : ), swam 1,500 yards and did  strength training (weights & core).

Monday, 65 minutes on the elliptical (5.22 miles) and core work on the floor at home in front of my favorite soap opera.  To bed early (8:30!)

Tuesday, slept in again : ) 65 minutes on the elliptical (5.68 miles) and more strength training (weights, but no extra weight or repetitions than usual).

Wednesday, woke up early, Physical Therapy 8 AM, then to the gym for 1,500 yards of swimming, then again core work on the floor at home watching my soap.

Thursday, woke even earlier, Physical Therapy 7:30 AM, then to the gym for strength training (weights & core) plus 1,500 yards of swimming.  Napped in the late afternoon.

Friday, no workout whatsoever intended.  Sleep in and keep a cool head, pick up a few things from the store and pack.  I won’t even do a plank!

NOW, there may be friends and readers who will give me that funny look, giggle and accuse me of not resting these past days.  But believe me, this has been a rest.  In the past five days, I’ve probably slept an extra ten hours.  No cardio activity lasted more than 65 minutes, and the strength training, I didn’t “up” anything.

As a result, I feel rested.  My toe isn’t pretty, but it’s practically healed.  No pain at all, no limp.  My hip is also doing much, much better.  Though my pelvis continues to rotate forward.  Anything will do it.  Sleeping does it!  But I am getting better and stronger at realigning my pelvis back into position.  So, if you see me out there in Calabasas laying in the dirt, pulling and pushing my right leg, I am not hurt, I am just preventing pain and injury by realigning.

There you have it – my days of rest.  Now I am a bundle of nerves, hoping that I can complete the upcoming race, my first ultra.  My goals:  (besides completing), no falling, no injuries, handling the cramps when the arrive, keeping a smile on my face and a positive attitude, and most of all enjoying the beauty and relative solitude.  Because it really is beautiful out there at Malibu Creek State Park.

So long til then.

My Very First Race

Junior High, 8th grade, I wasn’t a runner.  Not that I didn’t run or wasn’t active.  I played tag, dodge ball, climbed trees.  Roller skating was a favorite.  I rode my bicycle everywhere, or I walked. Those were the days (doesn’t seem that long ago!) that I walked to the mall or the record store.  Didn’t think to ask for a ride.  I’d say that I was in okay shape for a kid.

Those were the also days when we went to P.E. every day of school.  We dressed in white shorts and white snap-up-the-front shirts.  Not my favorite class, mainly because of the required showers.  Not my favorite class for other reasons too – I hated soccer because there was too much long running.  I hated basketball because there were too many short bursts of running.  I hated track and field because there was just plain ole’ too much running.

When the annual cross country race rolled around, of course plenty of boys signed up.  No girls volunteered.  Well, our coach rode us girls day after day until she got quite a few female volunteers to run the race.  She suckered me into signing on the dotted line.  Lots of girls were running it by then though, including one of my best friends.

I don’t recall anticipating the race.  I don’t even recall the length of the race.  It could have been a 5k.  It could have simply been a mile (though I think it was probably more than a mile). 

The bad news of this cross country race began early that day when practically every single girl dropped out the before it even started.  And then my friend, she “got her period” and dropped out too.  Too my horror, just two females remained to run the race – myself and another girl named C_____, a soft spoken girl with a good twenty or more pounds on me.

Every student and teacher in the school came out to watch that sunny day.  They sat on the grass slope along the course to watch, just as I had the year prior.  Of course this year I wasn’t chatting with girlfriends or smiling at the boys running by.  This year I was painstakingly running that grassy course.  I hated every single second, it was so tough.  As the guys raced by, I wanted more than anything to quit.  But I just couldn’t.  I had given my word that I would run this dang thing, so in my mind I had to.  I looked behind to see just a few runners, I don’t know, a half dozen or so, one of them C_____.  I remember that she looked as miserable as I felt, red-faced and panting. 

I actually crossed the finish line on my very first race.  And I was pretty pissed off at my friend for “getting her period.”  I was really pissed of at my P.E. coach too.  And I was pretty certain that running was probably the most hellish thing that a person could ever put themselves through.  

That was more than THIRTY years ago. : )