Valley of the Giants Marathon

When my cellphone alarm sang out this morning, I had to think hard.  Get the boys to school?  Run?  Then I looked at the time and saw 4AM and immediately knew, A RACE.  It took me one or two seconds to recall which race, and I thought to myself, “Oh crap.”

Crazy Elevation profile of this marathon:

Normally I love trails, as you are aware if you’ve read this blog.  But this race took place in the San Gabriel Mountains.  I’ve NEVER run those mountains.  I like racing on trails that I know “like the back of my hand.” 

It was cold at the base of the mountains in Rancho Cucamonga.  My good friend, Kurt F. came out to meet me near the start line, as lucky for me, he only lives a couple blocks away from the race.  (Kurt is one of my oldest continuous friends.  We met when I was TWELVE YEARS old).

Among the runners I saw some people I recognized from volunteering Twin Peaks 2 years ago.  I also saw Mark Ryne who I first met at Barstow’s “Get Your Kicks on Route 66 half marathon” a few years back.  I saw Steve Harvey, the race director of so many hardcore races in my local mountains.

Raring (Ha!) to go, at Start Line (Mark Ryne’s photo):

Fellow trail runner, Mark:

The morning was lovely, clear and cold with no wind.  We began on a slight decline, then climbed for about a mile and a half.  Then we ran downhill for about two miles.  “Remember this,” I told myself “You’re going to have to climb out in the end.” 

The 29 racers spread out quickly, and for a long while, I had two runners behind me, and one a ways up front that I could see.  I tried to catch him for a long time.  I closed the gap on every uphill, but then on the descents he blew me away. 

Gorgeous Views:

The Santa hat and long sleeves come off!:

I ran fire roads, lovely forest paths where I could hear the stream flowing strong.  I ran up a single track, and along rock mountainsides.  I crossed creeks and ran along cliffs and then a long descent into the halfway mark.  Thorns from a wild rose (I think) tore at the back of my calves and drew blood.  But other than that, my first half of the race was fun and carefree.  I didn’t make the time I planned but how could I have possibly known, being I didn’t know what lay ahead.  The cut off for 13.1 miles was 3 and a half hours.  After my first hour running, I calculated making the half in three hours.  I made it in at 3 hours 22 minutes, and there was the guy I had been trying to catch for so long.  We spoke briefly then he raced off while I chugged down some Coca-Cola. 

13.1 miles!!!  Awesome aid station workers to greet us:

After leaving the station, I had about 2 miles of uphill running which I used to my advantage to catch the guy ahead of me.  I passed Mark on the way as he came in to the half way mark.  We both took a few pics and I continued to work on lengthening my lead on the guy I had passed.  I knew I needed to get the lead as big as possible or else he’d pass me on the next downhill.

Heading back and working on “the pass”:

Mark crossing stream, very close to halfway point (probably half a mile):

Quick pose as I continue to make my way back up the mountain (Mark’s photo):

At about mile 16, I made the big descent and I ran “like a bat out of hell,” because I didn’t know how close that quick downhill runner was to me.  I never looked back once I passed.  I tripped several times, but never fell.  Then as I began to bottom out before the next climb, I had to duck beneath some branches.  I glanced down at my garmin to calculate whether I’d make 6 hours.  There was a slight, very slight chance.  That’s when I looked back up and slammed, I mean slammed my head into a large branch.  It seemed like I could hear my skull crush and my brain rattle (of course they didn’t), but the impact really dinged me.  At first, I started to cry but quickly stopped the sobbing and headed off a bit slower.  I began to see purple spots and worried the head impact caused some damage.  But immediately after downing a gel, the purple spots in my vision disappeared. 

Still, I wasn’t the same.  Eventually, I was able to pick up my speed again, but the climb was uphill again.  I was completely alone, realizing now that I was never going to make 6 hours.  My spirits began to drop until I heard someone hooting and hollering.  I knew I was close to the next aid station.  When I reached the single-manned station at the top of the climb, I inquired whether he could see any other runners behind me through his binoculars.  He said that he could see me running for a long time and pointed out the vast mileage as I looked down upon it in kind of a disbelief.  And he had seen no other runners behind me.  At that point I felt safe, thanked him for his hospitality and headed off downhill toward the next climb back to the finish line.

Well, LET ME TELL YOU miles 22 through 24+ were pretty much HELL.  Time travelled so very slowly.   My left ankle was sore, my right knee ached.  Every time I turned a corner I thought for sure the last mile and a half descent would begin.  I turned corner after corner, my spirits dropping, dropping, dropping.  That’s when I wanted to take the “Race director’s name in vain,” (something another race director, Jessica Deline wrote that I now understand).  I thought to myself, “Does he think this is funny???”  When I turned one of the last corners and saw that the climb continued, I actually exclaimed, “F***!!”  And I stopped running for about twenty steps.  Then I picked up my feet, kicked out the back and continued the ascent.     

I was so dang happy to see that final downhill.  But I have to write even that last mile and a half or so, really crept by.  The race director, James Schoelles, ran me up to the finish line.  I wasn’t mad at him anymore (Seriously, he put on a top-notch race).  You can’t believe how very happy I was to have finished.  No, I didn’t get the honored DFL (there were still 3 more runners to cross the finish line – and they all did : )  My time:  6:34.

Running UP HILL into the finishing line, filming race director, James Schoelles as he photos me (James’s photo): (Oh and NOTE TO SELF:  GET YOUR HEAD UP LAUREN!)

And of course, the movie!!

The Slow Hand of the Training Clock

In my wildest dreams I wouldn’t have imagined that I be a runner.  And a long distance runner, running up hills?  Ha!  That’s truly funny.

Let me be a testament to the fact that you can do it.  Whatever it is that you’re trying to do, you can.  The biggest thing it will take to get wherever it is that you want, is patience.  That was something that I DID NOT HAVE.  Patience.  Somehow, and I’m not sure how, running seemed to give me patience.  (Oddly, the biggest compliment I get from my students is “You have so much patience.”) 

I had to work up to 3 mile long runs.  Heck, I had to work up to running a block!  And I was embarrassed, I felt foolish. And since I was first a road runner, in order to keep it up, I had to pretend the rest of the people whizzing by in their cars, on their bikes, etc., weren’t there.  I sobbed when I first ran ten miles.  I felt like vomiting when walked to the Start Line of my first half marathon.  And I was scared to death to run my first marathon.

All along it seemed like training wasn’t really helping.  Obviously it was helping.  I just had to have the patience to allow enough time to pass to see results.  It’s similar to staring at the clock; you rarely see its hands move, but they move!  And they move pretty dang fast. 

Yet I still continue to train.  I find new things to train for – greater distance, steeper hills, rocky terrain, and It it still continues to pay off.  Now I know that I won’t really see the results until I look back (though sometimes I see the results as they happen).  When I start a run now, I feel much stronger.  I used to need a good three miles to warm-up.  Now I don’t experience anxiety when I know a big descent approaches.  I used to feel that terrible anxiety on my drive to the park where I was going to run the hill. 

SO . . . I have another mountain marathon this weekend.  It’s got 6,000 feet of elevation gain.  And it’s on trails that I’ve never run, in mountains that I’ve never run (however, I have done a bit of hiking in them).  I’m not scared because I know that I can do it.  And I also know that anything can happen, good or bad (like a PR or a twisted ankle).  I also know that since this race only has a little over 30 runners, I have a pretty good chance at a DFL.  That doesn’t scare me much either.  The only thing that scares me is coming in thirty minutes to an hour after the last runner.  If I’m going to take that DFL honor, I want to come in minutes after the runner in front of me.  I’m also a little scared about not making the half cut-off.  But those things too, I can deal with. 

I know I ‘m supposed to taper before a big race.  But I hate The Taper.  In my defense, all my runs this week have been less than ten miles.

Scenes from today’s run:

I really enjoy looking up beneath trees:

Crazy for Cholla, a short descent up to the ridge trail (West Ridge):

Running West Ridge, up ahead, a little hill that I call “Good Girls Don’t” – a couple of years ago, I couldn’t run it.  Now I can (of course not very quickly ):

A new (for me) little single-track I found along West Ridge:

Where I crashed my head into this branch:

And came out and found this (not me, but these rocks overlooking the Pacific):

Top of the World once again:

Running down Rockit:

Rockit:

Running in for the final stretch along Coyote run toward Wood Canyon:

Miles run this morning:  8.08 (13 km)

Happy

Some family members (I won’t say who), claim that I’m only happy when I’m running.  If that were true, I would make a correction, when I’m trail running.  But it’s not true.  I’m happy at the gym.  LOL.

Seriously, people who know me on a casual basis would say that I’m happy ALL OF THE TIME.  That of course is not true either.  But why the huge discrepancy?

Most people that I know on a casual basis don’t know that I’m a trail runner (except for trail runners that I know on a casual basis).  EVERYONE in my family and their close friends know that I’m a trail runner.   All family members seem proud that I’m a trail runner.  I’ve heard them brag.  But occasionally, there’s the “You’re only happy when your running” bit that goes on that’s got me on this topic today. 

The truth is that I’m content when I run trails.  I don’t  worry about finances or all the things that I’ve forgotten to do.  I’m just being.  And that makes me happy.  Not giddy happy; like I mentioned above, CONTENT. 

When I’m teaching, I’m happy.  I adore all my students and that makes me happy.  I’m happy when our children laugh, actually when anyone in my family laughs, when my students laugh, when my friends laugh, when strangers laugh.  I’m happy if I can make someone smile.  So, you see, I’m not “only happy when I run.”  Running trails is way beyond happy.  Sure I’m smiling on the trails (most of the time – sometimes I’ve been known to cry on the trails.)  Running trails is like something I’ve never experienced in my life before; it is something that transcends the mind, something that conquers the body.  I feel fortunate, so very fortunate to have stumbled upon trail running.     

Even though I had very little time this morning, I got in a trail run, an out-and-back to Top of the World at Aliso/Wood Canyons.  Was I happy?  I suppose so.  But more than anything, I was content and anxiety-free.  And if content and anxiety-free is happy, well then damn-it, I was happy!  But I was happy other times today too.  I was happy fractions finally clicked in a young girl’s mind after I worked with her only a few short minutes.  I was happy when another student smiled when I complimented him on his work and told him not to worry so much.  I was happy driving my sons to school singing along to Pink.  I was happy eating my rice/broccoli/carrot mixture – because I LOVE rice.  There were hard times today too, because a day is that complex.  But trail running, it’s not complex, IT JUST IS.  And that is wonderful.

Digital Memories of today’s run:

A pose heading into Wood Canyon:

I couldn’t decide which picture I liked best:

A view of Laguna Wilderness from West Ridge Trail (beyond the hills is Crystal Cove):

Cheers from Top of the World!

Sculptures in the park at Top of the World:

And of course a view of Saddleback  (Oh, how I miss thee Saddleback):

Miles logged this morning:  6.50

Mile 1,500 Hit and Under Unsafe Conditions : )

The fact that I neared mile 1,500 for 2011 slipped my mind this morning.  I simply wanted a nice long run, say 15 miles.  I also wanted something a little different.  I opted for Crystal Cove State Park because I thought the ocean views would be gorgeous with these Santa Ana winds blowing.

When I arrived to the trails, a man from the OC Parks department parked his truck at the entrance with a tall, antennae-like measuring device.  Worried the park was closed he assured me that he was just watching for fires and that I should call 911 if I see anyone smoking or any smoke whatsoever. (12/6/11 after note:  Would I call 911 if someone were smoking a cigarette in the park?  Firstly, I never have seen anyone smoking on the trails.  But if I did on this particular day, I would NOT call 911.  BUT, I am at least bold enough that I would tell the person that an OC Park Authority told me to call if I saw someone smoking, and that they should put out their smoke.  I would be friendly and explain why it was important on this particular day.  In all honesty, as an ex-smoker however, I believe a smoker would have great difficulty even hiking these trails.)

And then I was off running through the county park Laguna Wilderness, quickly into the State Park, Crystal Cove.  The wind blew cold, but it was dry.  Bundled up and joyfully running the rolling hills of No-Name Ridge, a ranger parked at the side of the trail waved me over.  “I need to talk to you,” she said.  “You have to leave, the park is now closed.”

“Closed?”

“Yes, it’s a red-flag alert, stage 4 warning.  Winds.”

You know, I could start a fire, like when I throw my cigarette butt.  Or perhaps when I decide to light an open fire to warm my hands.  Or maybe, I’ll run so fast, the sparks from my shoes will start one!

Stalling for a few seconds to think, I asked, “Do you need to drive me out?”  And I thought to myself, I drove 22 miles to get here and now after 2 miles, I’m going to turnaround and run back to the truck.  I DON’T THINK SO.

“Well,” the ranger said, “did you park up there?” she moved her head indicating the area I had parked. 

“No,” I said.  I ACTUALLY LIED.  Shocked and even a bit dismayed, but also a little ticked I continued, “I parked down there,” and moved my head in the direction of the coast where I had NOT parked.

Yikes.

“Okay,” she said.  “Go ahead and run down to the parking lot and leave.”

A little giddy that I had prolonged my run, I continued the lovely rolling hills, thinking I’d just sneak past the ranger station and make my way to a single track and then eventually Laguna Wilderness (which was not closed).  I studied the trails in the distance carefully to see which ones to avoid, the most visible from No-Name Ridge.

At some point during this glorious run, the ranger drove past me toward the station.  Man!!!  Now she was going to know I lied, because the parking lot was probably empty.  What to say, what to say?  I thought about this for the last half mile into the station.  I thought I could say, "I parked down the highway in North Laguna.  Or, I took a bus.  Or, okay, I LIED.”

With her truck license plate committed to memory, I ran on into the station, relieved to see the lot full with several cars, most of them driving away.  I noted the ranger’s truck parked among several other state trucks.  And as I studied the map, another ranger, a man said, “'Mam.  Did you see the sign?  The parked is closed.  You have to leave.”

‘Mam?  ‘Mam?  Don’t call me ‘Mam!  I suppose I was just a little annoyed.  What was I going to do now?

“I didn’t see any signs,” I snapped.  That was the truth.  But I saw the signs as I walked away dismayed.  The gates to the park were closed with “Do Not Enter” warnings posted.

With the rangers out of sight, I removed my red shirt so that they might not recognize me later wearing the blue shirt I wore beneath.  Then I removed my cap, looked behind me and walked out of the park like I was leaving.  But instead, I jumped over the chain and “closed” sign onto the trail leading to El Moro Canyon. 

I peered over my shoulder relieved that I couldn’t see the ranger station.  Then I came upon another closed sign at El Moro Canyon.  Running with my ipod off, I ran up that trail, listening closely for truck sounds.  I noticed no tire prints on the trail, but still I worried.  I’m not a liar.  I don’t run from rangers.  I was worried, because I knew that I was going to jump into the brush and hide if a truck came by.  What kind of 46-year-old woman does that???  I surprised myself.

I also hugged the left edge during the portions where No-Name overlooked the trail.  And then I came upon a hiker.  “Do you work here?” My question reminded me of those movies where the drug dealers or prostitutes ask a prospective client, “Are you a cop?”

He said that he didn’t work there and upon more questioning, I learned he hadn’t seen any rangers in the canyon, and in fact had never, ever seen a ranger in the canyon.  That’s when I eased up and continued through the wispy canyon, up Elevator and along Fence Line until I finally hit Bommer Ridge – that’s when I was safe – Ahh, Laguna Wilderness.  I ran on in against the cool wind, happy that I had not been cited.  It wasn’t until I looked at my garmin did I realize that I had hit 1,500 miles for 2011. 

What a way to hit 1,500 miles.  My husband cracked up when I told him.  You can bet, my sons didn’t hear this story. 

Yes, it was that chilly this morning:

Pacific Ocean in background, running down to Crystal Cove ranger station:

I don’t think so:  (I hope I can’t be cited after the fact)

Past the sign, on my way up El Moro Canyon:

The beauty of El Moro Canyon:

Running up Elevator:

A look back:

Quick pose on Fence Line:

9.09 miles logged this morning: 

OCTR December New Member Run / Arroyo Trabuco

No “new” members showed this morning for the OCTR “new member” run.  The founder, Jessica Deline, (& her lovely pup), Sherree, and myself showed for this brisk, cool morning run (might I add, gorgeous as well with blue-skies-and-big-white-puffy-clouds run). 

Jessica lead the way, navigating with her Smart Phone.  We made our way down to Trabuco Arroyo Trail in the foothills of the Saddleback Mountains.  And several creek crossings we made.  Since I knew about the creek crossings ahead of time, I wore an old pair of shoes and tramped right through the water.  It was ice cold, delightfully cool splashing against my legs. Running in wet shoes and socks is something you just have to get used to.  Once you do, you don’t even notice discomfort.  (I just didn’t want to put my newer shoes through the shock : )

Trabuco Arroyo Trail creek crossings:

From Trabuco Arroyo Jessica lead us across the highway up another trail that I’ve never run.  She showed us the elevation profile (on her phone) that we’d run so far and it was hard to believe we had already climbed so much.  Sherree laughed and exclaimed, “That’s our elevation profile!!!  I thought that was the stock market!” 

The views of Saddleback Mountains were crystal clear.  The valley views were immense and lush green.  There was more climbing also, which made me a very, very happy gal.  I have become, it seems oddly,  an elevation junkie.  Jessica’s dog ran along side me for much of this climb.  I couldn’t believe what a great trail dog she is!  And a beautiful chocolate brown coat she has!  (I bonded with this pup faster than I have my own new puppy : ( (I still haven’t gotten over the loss of Daisy).

The complete loop back to our cars totaled a little over seven miles.  I headed off for some more miles as these wonderful trail ladies drove off.  I thought that I’d put in about five additional miles, so I headed back to Trabuco Arroyo  for more trails and some more pictures. 

Trabuco Arroyo in its glorious autumn color:

When I hit the sandy trail beneath the toll road, I decided to head back earlier than planned.  As today’s our youngest son’s birthday.  And it’s also my oldest son’s taekwondo long day.  I thought I’d give my husband a break in not having to drive all the boys to taekwondo, and I wanted to say Happy Birthday to our now seven-year-old.

What a joyful run on this cool autumn day.

Happy Birthday Baby!

I’m Back

The Santa Ana winds arrived early this morning, furiously.  Trees swooshing, leaves rustling, and the sound of our washer/dryer enclosure door slamming into the backyard porch woke me over and over as I tried to squeeze in the last few hours of sleep. 

I couldn’t wait to get out and run.  I felt completely well, even with poor sleep.  I made it to the trails as soon as I could, hitting dirt at 9:00 AM.  I decided on Mentally Sensitive (Psycho-Path, which by the way, I altered the sign, but only in the picture). 

Aliso Canyon was still, seriously, not a single leaf stirred.  Though, I could tell that the Santa Anas were lurking because the weather had warmed significantly since yesterday.

Running up Mentally Sensitive:

I never weakened on this run, even when I reached Top of the World and the wind blew hard against my body.  The sound of the trees dancing in the wind was so loud it drowned out the music from my earphones.  I simply stood in the middle of it all to take in the wind’s majestic beauty, then took off running for the big loop, down Park Avenue Nature Trail with its Pacific Ocean view, then West Ridge toward Cholla Trail for a steepish descent. 

View of Saddleback Mountains from Park Avenue Nature Trail:

I figured that the wind would calm when I reached the bottom of Wood Canyon.  Though it was not as fierce, it still rustled the trees.  I took some single tracks off the main trail, up and down rolling hills.  I didn’t think about much, just keeping my footing and the feeling of gratitude for being well. 

I am back!

Running up to Wood Creek Trail for some technical single-track:

Coyote Run:

I made one last stop at Dripping Cave, my official goofing off spot.  Here I thought I’d “feel my oats” and prove that all my strength did not in fact drain from me during my illness.  I did some push-ups on the bridge into the cave, for the camera of course.  I’m glad no one else stopped by the cave to witness my theatrics which I topped off with some side planks, because they take better pictures than regular planks (yet I post the pictures on the world wide web!)  Then I jumped up and enjoyed the final stretch of 2.5 miles back to my truck. 

I ran this 13.32 mile (21.44 km) clockwise loop feeling strong the entire trip.  I reached the truck crusted in salt and extremely happy for these trails and the Santa Ana winds today (and the fact that they occurred in December when it’s cooler which meant less chance for fires).

Elevation Profile:

Happy Trails!