Yup; I was there.

Despite my complaining, and maybe it was stupid, (I was hoping the antibiotics would protect me) but I grabbed me some of that fortitude this afternoon and headed out for a trail run.  I just had to do it.  It wasn’t that a short hilly run was gonna suddenly train me for the following weekend.  I just needed the release, the escape.

I took 4 ibuprofen, 2 Sudafed, packed my hydro pack with plenty of water (let me tell ya I drank it all), and ran down Canyon Vistas park with my shoulder reeking of Icy Hot, and a pain jabbing my RIGHT glute.  (It switched sides – go figure :)

At the bottom of Cholla Trail I asked a mountain biker if he would grab the Icy Hot out of my pack.  He kindly obliged, then I hid behind a sign, and COATED that glute.  I powered up Cholla best that I could.  Passed a biker resting at the side along the way.

I focused on relaxing and not compensating by changing my gate.  Mid-foot strike (especially on the uphills), straight core, and most importantly I concentrated on relaxing.  Toward the end of West Ridge I found myself running alongside three male runners who were just at my pace – they had actually passed a ways back, but I caught them on the uphills.  Conversation with one of the gentlemen took my mind off the tough end of West Ridge.

 Me at Top of the World, Pacific Ocean/Laguna Beach in background (look!  My ipod matches my shirt)

I can’t express what a relief I felt to stand at the Top of the World.  The breeze was cool, the people smiling.  By then my arm felt no pain, my glute minimal pain.  The ocean was dark, the skies bright.  And I have to say that just standing there gave me a boost – a mental boost (I don’t think it did so much for me physically). 

After running into Alta Laguna Park and stocking up on toilet paper to blow my nose, I ran back up to West Ridge with gusto.  I stretched and took a few snap shots, then ran, not that swiftly, back up and down, up and down West Ridge to Cholla, and back to the car.  I arrived home to greet my parents who stopped by for a short visit.  Then I spent a pleasant evening feeling just fine, my with my youngest son’s friend and parents.  And we gathered entirely too much candy trick or treating on this Halloween night. 

Photo of a beetle (stink bug) as it crosses beneath me during glute/hamstring stretch at Top of the World

Elevation Profile

Miles logged on this Halloween:  6.24

I don’t mean to complain but . . .

I really do hate to complain, I don’t mean to complain.  But the truth of the matter is, I’m screwed.  I mean, really, really screwed.  At this point, the only thing that is going to save me is fortitude.

Definition of FORTITUDE

strength of mind that enables a person to encounter danger or bear pain or adversity with courage

Examples of FORTITUDE

1. She has endured disappointments with fortitude and patience.
2. <it was only with the greatest fortitude that the Pilgrims were able to survive their first winter in Plymouth>

Origin of FORTITUDE

Middle English, from Latin fortitudin-, fortitudo, from fortis

First Known Use: 12th century

Related to FORTITUDE

Synonyms: backbone, constancy, fiber, grit, grittiness, guts, intestinal fortitude, pluck, spunk

http://mw1.meriam-webster.com/dictionary/fortitude

I first started thinking about fortitude after my pastor spoke about it one evening that I went to church with my oldest son.  I had never really thought of the word before.  I had thought about “suffering gracefully”, which I cannot do.  But fortitude?  Well, that got me inspired.  2010 has been a tough, tough year – in so many ways that I won’t even begin to go into.  All this time I’ve been hoping and praying for things to get better, but then it dawned on me: IT MIGHT NOT.  I always thought a positive attitude makes things better.  But I’m realizing that I can’t control the world and that a positive attitude, well, that’s all good and all, it helps emotionally, but it surely doesn’t stop the bad things from happening.  As I sat and listened to that sermon, I thought to myself that I’d better suck it up and get me some of that fortitude, because things might not get better for a long time.  Of course, I’m not merely talking about my physical strength and abilities, I’m talking about life.

But concerning my physical strength and abilities, namely TRAIL RUNNING, it’s all been going downhill for a while (or should I say uphill!).   My training went astray last Father’s Day when we were involved in that 4 car collision (which by the way, the adjuster of the person at fault is telling me that my medical bills were way too high, and they aren’t even considering all of them, and my “training” means absolutely nothing to him – I am after all a 45 year old woman with 3 kids and a husband at home – what the heck business do I have traipsing around the hillside like I’m some kind of athlete?”  He didn’t say that last part, but that’s what he was thinking, I just know : )).

And thus I digress.  SO!  I really started thinking about fortitude again last weekend when I got stung by a wasp twice while running up the Santa Monica Mountains.  And I prayed for fortitude. I made it through that race amazingly fine – especially with very little training.  Which brings me to now:

That day I got a sore throat.  The next day decided not to workout, not because of the sore throat or sneezing and coughing, but because my quads were so stiff from that long downhill run.  When Tuesday rolled around, I decided to get to the gym to at least loosen up – I have the Saddleback Marathon looming ahead.  I sat in the steam room and sauna (lovely), foam rolled, worked on abs and lifted weights.  And since my deltoid and pec seemed so much better, I had the bright idea to workout all muscle groups, including my arms.

My arm (shoulder area) has ached since.  I practically wear a heating pad over my shoulder now as part of my normal attire.  Not only that, I’ve got that dang glute issue going on, not to mention, lower back pain.  I’ve been stretching and rolling the glutes like mad.  Doesn’t seem to help.

Wednesday, I wanted to run, but I was too sick.  Thursday, same thing.  Now I’m really falling into the pits.  I can’t even look at runners on the street, I get so jealous.  I was so sick, my husband had to get the kids to school.  He came home and told me, T____’s mom  “was going for a run this morning.” 

“La, la, la,” I covered my ears.   “I don’t want to hear it . . . wait!”  I uncovered my ears.  “Where’s she running?”

“It didn’t look like she was wearing trail shoes,” he said.

“Have you ever noticed her legs all dirty, I mean, this is important!  THINK!Has she ever picked up her kids with her legs caked in dirt like I do?”

“No,” he said, “I’ve never noticed her legs covered with dirt.”

“Okay.  GOOD.”

Thursday, I was still too sick to run.  My deltoid/pec still aching, glute painful, throat sore I headed off to the gym – I had a marathon in a little over a week.  I got a good workout.  I spent over an hour on the elliptical, lifted some weights (no arms!), did ab work and lastly did some lower back strengthening (bad, bad idea!)

Friday, too sick to run.  But I felt better, better enough to get the kids to school, do errands and take the Boo Cruise out of the Harbor.

Saturday, big plans to run.  Too sick to run.  So I finally went to the doctor, spent two hours in the waiting room.  Turns out, my cold turned into a secondary infection, which fortunately can be treated with antibiotics.  “Are you going to give me the fast acting kind?” I asked, eagerly. 

Nope.

“Should I double dose the first one?”

Nope.

Fortitude, I need fortitude.

Sunday, again, big plans to run.  I caked on the Icy Hot, took 4 ibuprofen and laid a heating pad over my lower back when I went to bed last night (at 9:30).

When the alarm when off at 5:00 AM, I decided I was still too sick to run. 

And so as you can see, I am screwed.  With practically no marathon training whatsoever, I’m going to run one next Saturday with 5,000+ feet of elevation gain. 

Fortitude!  Please give me fortitude.

Coastal Trail Runs – Malibu Creek 25k

Though I went to bed early, I got little sleep.  It seems I woke every two hours and dreamt all night that I was running, racing actually a double loop that went through houses and backyards.  I finally woke at 5 AM for good and hit the road for Malibu Creek State Park at 5:30.

I felt excited to run the same loop I’ve done on 4 other occasions, but this time in the opposite direction (clockwise).  I thought clockwise had to be easier than counter-clockwise.  After all, I wouldn’t have to climb Bulldog Road (which stresses me out immensely – which should make me ponder why do I do it???)

Anyway, this was a low key race, actually three races, a 10k, 25k, 50k all starting at once.  I believe the race director said there were 92 runners.  About 30 ran my race.   I recognized one woman from the Marine Hard Corps Marathon this year.  That brave soul was going to conquer the 50k.

My strategy:  take it slow.  (Borrowing someone else’s words: start off slow and end slow).  And so I did.  I started at the back of the pack, pain stabbing my right glute.  But as I ran up Backbone Trail (it’s usually the last hill in the race, a torturous devil of a little hill, what a joy to get it over first), I felt happy, to be running this loop once again.  My main goal was to finish – that’s all.  Finish.

Running down the other side of Backbone (which is usually hell coming up at the end of the race) I got a little surprise.  Something fast-flying flew beneath my sleeve and stung my right shoulder!  I screamed, or yelled, I think it was a scream actually, and brushed the thing out of my sleeve.  Then it swiftly flew down and stung my ring finger, the one with my wedding band.  My finger immediately swelled up and I ran in pain, astonished, wondering what the heck stung me.  I couldn’t imagine; all I knew was that bees lose their stingers when they sting.  So, it couldn’t have been a bee. 

At Aid station number one, we looked through the first aid kit for an antihistamine.  Coming up empty handed, I popped some ibuprofen, which did nothing for the sting pain , but took care of the glute problem.  The aid worker said that a hornet probably got me – they don’t lose their stingers when they use them. 

Yikes.  My first wasp sting.  Rather, stings.

So, I had to work on my attitude a bit as I continued running.  I can’t run a loop like this with a bad attitude.  Relaxing my body and my mind, I prayed some (Dear Lord, give me fortitude), repeated mantra’s like loosen-up, loosen-up and found in no time that negative attitude gone.  And I kept on Truckin’ . . . 

Running up to the ridge was not easy, in fact it was very difficult.  I hiked some of it.  But it was by NO MEANS as difficult as climbing Bulldog.

I caught a cool breeze running the ridge line.  There were some up hills and down hills.  I could take them all, having not been destroyed by Bulldog.  I tripped once, pretty hard on the ridge.  I barely lost a step.

Heading up the Mountain

Beauty on the Trail

Onward to Bulldog Road (& second aid station)

Running down Bulldog was an eye-opener.  I fought hard to keep a constant pace, finding it difficult not to “fly” down that road.  I admit as I ran down Bulldog I thought to myself, I’m NEVER climbing this thing again – it’s strange looking at Bulldog Road from another direction.  I finally realized why it’s such a difficult climb.  There is absolutely no relief from the climb and very little shade.  And it’s a long trail, more than three miles. 

With my brain empty I concentrated on the road, slipping once (fortunately I caught myself).  Then, this is how emotional running is for me, my dog Daisy popped into my mind about half way down the mountain.  I sobbed out loud in mourning.  Though I found it difficult to breathe while crying and running, I didn’t stop myself until I was done.  Sobbing that is, not running. 

After Bulldog, I ran past the M.A.S.H. movie set where picnickers set themselves up alongside a rusted jeep.  And then I made my way onto the single track, not stopping once.  I did trip once here though, but again kept on my feet (strength training!). 

By mile 13, I had grown so dang tired, that the old Lauren (before trail running) would have laid down in the shade for a nap.  But I kept on running, so eager to make the finish line.  I knew my time was going to be my slowest ever for this loop (more than 4 hours).  Like I cared!  I barely had any business running this race.

When I finally crossed over the creek again, I felt a huge sense of relief – homeward bound relief.  I could roll myself to the finish line if I had to at that point.  But I didn’t need to.  The crowds of people dressed in their church clothes mingling about the creek brought such a smile to my face and heart, that I ran it on in, slowly yes, but extremely thrilled that one of the 50k runners didn’t lap me.  I really didn’t want to get lapped.  (I expected that the closer and closer I got to the finish).  I didn’t even get the honored DFL.

Remnants of M.A.S.H. television props

Along the Final Stretch (well, not exactly the FINAL stretch, but almost there)

At Finish Line (not looking too pretty, but oh so happy to finish!)

Overall, I had a great time.  Now I truly know the meaning of “Quad Killer.”  I’ve heard runners say this or that hill is a “Quad Killer,” but I’ve never had any bad effects from any of these downhills.  RUNNING DOWN BULLDOG WAS A QUAD KILLER.  I can barely move around tonight, my quads are so stiff and sore.

Oh, there’s more : )  Elevation profile below and the movie (I can’t resist) beneath that.

Miles logged today:  15.55

Trails are Closed Until Further Notice Due to Wet and Muddy Conditions

My last run was Buffalo Alley.  I didn’t run Sunday, but planned a week full of trail runs.  And then the rain came.  It poured, lightening lit the skies, thunder growled loud enough to scare all my children.  Monday and Tuesday came and went.  I thought still I can get in one good long run before Malibu Creek.  And it continued to rain.  Wednesday left us wet, and I still thought, there’s time . . . there’s time.  Thursday, more rain – but it wasn’t supposed to rain!  And then at last today, Friday, I woke to rain once again.  But I continued checking the trail websites, even calling the park.  All I got was “Trails are closed until further notice due to wet and muddy conditions.”

Phooey.

All week I obsessed over going to the gym.  Spent hours each day there, as if.  As if somehow miles on the elliptical, weight training and core work could help me run up the Santa Monica Mountains.  Deep down though, I knew that I could ride the elliptical until the cows came home, and it wouldn’t help me run up those mountains.  Pretty much, the only thing that’s gonna condition me to run up mountains, is running up mountains.  Sure, strength training and cardio are aids, mother’s little helpers.  Little helpers that lessen injuries.  They don’t substitute for the real thing. (That is running up mountains)

But then I went and re-injured/re-strained what seems to be my left deltoid and pectoral.  The pain bothers me so much, that I cannot even rightly sleep.  It’s odd, standing up, even pumping my arms doesn’t cause much pain.  But I’m in agony when I stoop or lay down.  And I can’t even begin to get into a plank position.

Woe is me : )

And so this morning after checking and re-checking Aliso Wood Canyons website, plus phoning them SEVERAL times, I said screw it!  I did not go to the gym.  I did no core work at home.  I lifted no weights.  I simply ran errands.  I cleaned house, stabbed my hand with a fork doing dishes (literally had to pull the fork out of my palm).  I did laundry, dropped off the boys, picked up the boys and drove out to San Diego County with my oldest son for my mother to color and trim my hair. 

I can only do what I can – isn’t this the same ole’ story????  (I know this sounds a bit crazy, but it’s a fun story – that is, when looking back.)

On the good side, I’m only signed up for the 25k this weekend, which has the same time limit as the 50k, 8 1/2 hours!  I should be able to do that : )))

Buffalo Alley, a Race for the Fallen

I love soldiers.  I have always loved soldiers, even before my brothers were soldiers.  I’m not sure why I love them so much; I think it’s because they do something that I don’t think I could ever do.  I’m too selfish.  I wish I was like a soldier, selfless. 

Since I’ve started trail running, I’ve been running Buffalo Alley at Camp Pendleton.  This is my third “Race for the Fallen.”   Though the cause is solemn, it’s a fun race with two good climbs and lots of rolling hills.  And proceeds go to families of the soldiers who have paid the ultimate sacrifice.

This is the one race, no matter how tough the climb gets, I run every single inch.  I tell my self to sacrifice this one time, because soldiers have to run when they don’t feel like it, or when they’re tired.  And so I run, sometimes breathless.  Today though, I never got breathless.  I’m getting better at them hills : )

The mood was festive as we lined up on this cool wet morning.  The marines put on a well-organized race as usual.  Lucinda, the woman I see at every Camp Pendleton race was present as usual.  She runs in all black, boots and carries the U.S. flag the entire race.  She amazes me.  We ran neck-in-neck, until she blew me away in the last 10th of a mile or so. 

I lost some time this year because I did a video of the race.  I’ve also got the glute issues.  Plus running every inch of the hills, I think makes my time slightly slower too.  The reason for this, I’m sure is that they wipe me out so much, that I run slower on the flats and downhills.  But I don’t care.  I had a great time, really, a fantastic time – the marines were characters, polite characters, funny, wild, crazy, respectful, and tough. 

But I saw no buffalos : )

Miles logged this morning:  6.22

The race:

The movie

Car Wreck Trail

I’ve heard about a wrecked car in those hills at Aliso Woods.  A few runners have told me they once came upon it but haven’t been able to find it since.  The wreck wasn’t on an official trail; I knew that.  I’ve run every inch of trail in that wilderness park.  I should say every inch of “legal” trail.  And I’ve never seen a car wreck.

I figured there was no car wreck, or it got cleared long ago.

Today, I found myths do come to light sometimes. 

I don’t know how I missed it, but sometime in August of this year, Aliso Wood Canyons had their grand opening of Car Wreck Trail.  I must have been thinking about upcoming Bulldog, or moping around after Bulldog.

A couple weeks ago, I ran into the ranger station, excitedly exclaiming “Where is this new trail?”  The ranger pointed it out on the map, surprising me with the fact that it started (or ended) off of Mathis Trail.  Some day soon, I promised myself, I’m running that trail.  One of the guys working with the ranger said, “Up is the better way to run it.  Much easier to do that than run down it, the trail’s that steep.”  I chuckled to myself and thought, “psycho!”

SO, I took off running through Canyon Vistas Park late this morning.  I ran up Cholla, not so sure where I was running except for the fact I was running to the Top of the World.  That’s just me.  Gotta do it, because it’s so difficult.  On the way up Cholla, a mountain biker walking his bike up ahead heard my pounding and turned around to look at me.  He stopped, pulled over, allowing me to pass (I could feel his pain).  As I ran past him, he said “Just put me out of my misery now!”

I laughed and said, “I keep thinking it’s only a half mile, it’s only a half mile,” Cholla that is.  Then I looked back and uttered one more thing:  “The longest half mile there is!.”

West Ridge was empty and foggy.  A delight to run, though I’m not at top notch ability right now.  The run is also more challenging in the fog, because I can’t see Top of the World.  Therefore, I’m never quite sure exactly where I am in the run.  As many times as I’ve run West Ridge, in a good fog, I still can’t make out exactly where I am.  Strange.

How West Ridge Looked this Morning (Nice & Cool & Lonely : )

At Top of the World, I looked at my watch and decided, heck, why not search out Car Wreck Trail today?  I think I’ve got the time.  I had a little over an hour to make it back to the car in time to stretch and pick up my kindergartner from school. 

I took the West Ridge down hill at a good pace, then turned off on Mathis, surprised Car Wreck Trail wasn’t right there.  I’d guess I ran about a quarter mile before finding the marker.  A mountain biker came up behind me.  I let him pass, then posed for a self-portrait before the steep descent.

Posing in Front of the Brand New Sign

Car Wreck Trail is lovely.  Mostly a single track, it’s quite technical, lots of rocky terrain.  And yes, it is a bit steep.  But it’s not the steepest trail I’ve ever run down.  I won’t tell the whole story here, because I’ve got pictures below.  But quickly – Car Wreck has twists and turns, plenty of shade, and yes indeed, a car wreck.  At just one point I did stoop down and jump down over the terrain because I felt I might wipe out running it. 

Car Wreck dumps out onto Oak Grove Trail which in turn dumps back out onto Mathis Trail (the flat part).  I ran Mathis to Wood Canyon Trail, which I ran all the way back to the car.  I tripped once, on a flat portion and lurched forward pretty hard.  But I kept my self upright, and didn’t lose a single step.  Thank you planks.  : )

Some of the terrain on Car Wreck

Car Wreck Trail:

The Car Wreck

 

Toward End of Car Wreck Trail, Heading onward to Oak Grove Trail

One Last Snap of the Camera, Coming Off of Mathis Trail

7.51 miles run today

Elevation Profile

I’m Breaking up with you . . . Pavement

Now, I have nothing against road runners.  Really, I don’t.  I’ve run miles and miles, joyfully, happily on pavement and/or asphalt.  But that was in the past.  Lately, it’s just not working out between us.  More and more, the road just reminds me of my old friend, the dreadmill treadmill. 

Today, I was forced to give you one more chance, pavement.  With no time to drive to some trails, you got me on the rebound!  I filled my handheld with water, my belt with Nuun tablets and phone then headed off down the road for a nice, three hour run . . . a three hour run.  I hoped you would help me get lost just like Gilligan.  I wanted to lose myself, simply run.

But right away, stabs at the right glute, even after a warm-up, it was too painful to stay with you.  Now, I know that I’ve been having glute issues recently, and it probably is just me, but I couldn’t help but blame you, pavement, for my problem today.  And so, I was none too happy to dump you in for the dirt and run back up the hill home.  I was angry at first, but then glad to be rid of you, glad to spend time with my good old friend, Gym.  I spent two  hours there (closing my eyes as I passed the dreadmill treadmill.)

I had fun with planks and the roller too (my glutes loved that roller).  I got lots of ab work and strength training in, plus nearly 6 miles on the elliptical crossramp.  And even though I should have been sad or mad that I didn’t get to lose myself on the pavement today, had I not broken-up with you pavement, I would not have witnessed miner Esteban Rojas emerging from the mines after being trapped there since August.  I would have not choked up with tears while sweating on the elliptical as he dropped to his knees, clasped his hands and prayed.