Big Baz WTRS Volunteer

Okay, now I’m really, really tired.  My husband said that I was running in my sleep last night, working up a sweat even, and that I was saying something about distance, something like “that’s not a speed distance, that’s an endurance distance . . . “  Who knows.  I woke abruptly at 4:30 because zombies were chasing me and I couldn’t find any place else to run! (And these were not the slow-moving zombies of my youth, these were the modern fast-moving zombies!)

Phew!  I was tired before the day began.  Then at 6:00 AM, I drove up to Blue Jay Campground in the Cleveland National Forest to volunteer for Big Baz’s first Winter Trail Run Series of 2012.  Usually I’m jealous when I see other people running and I’m not.  This morning, I have to say that I was so glad that I was not running this race.  I just didn’t have it in me.  But I did have it in me to talk with the runners, to greet people I knew, and to call out the bib numbers to the time recorders as they approached the finish line.  I recognized so many runners.  Some of them I knew.  Others I knew only by face.  And others I recognized them as having passed me in one or two races. 

I had a blast.  I would definitely do this more often if it didn’t take up so much time of the day.

Setting up before the runners arrive:

Runners begin to show:  Far left is John (he’s one of the sweepers running down Hank and me in Twin Peaks), to the right of him, Steve Harvey.  And the guy hugging the lady, Big Baz.  He got lots of hugs in today.

Lining up on a cold morning for check-in and bibs:

Baz entertaining the runners:

A guy in the pink skirt always gets all the attention LOL:

Chris Diaz brings out the WHOLE family.  Go Diaz clan!:

Baz gives race instructions:

New Balance Rep. (sorry I forgot your name) gives runners the “run down” on the new line:

And they’re off:

Recording finishing times:

New Balance Rep and John:

First Place!!

Top 6 placers, there was silence for a while after these guys came in:

Prepping snacks:

Steve Harvey makes his way to the finish line:

Waiting for Big Baz’s raffle and his overall fun theatrics:

Me and Rich Merritt (who ran the race, but my picture of him approaching the finish came out blurred :

On my way home, I pulled over to put in a little over a mile run on San Juan Trail to continue my streak.  Day 19 (yikes!):

View from San Juan Trail:

Boulder Hopping

Day 18 of my running streak, I planned on an easy day so that I could “rest.”  I had something fun planned: run the jettys at the marina.  So, I parked the truck in a lot at the base of the cliffs, and I headed for jetty #1.

I ran up the pier on the way to watch the fishermen/women:

Gosh!  Some people ruin all the fun : )

I ran past a replica of the Pilgrim, the brig that Richard Henry Dana sailed from Boston to Dana Point in the mid 1800s (approximately):

I admired the jetty from afar imaging how fun it would be to run:

Then I ran upon this:

Now a person here and there has on occasion referred to me as a scofflaw.  But with 3 or 4 docents ten feet away and a sheriff’s station on the marina island, I couldn’t risk a ticket, so I ran on down to the beach for some major boulder hopping instead:

I had great fun leaping from boulder to boulder.  I surprised myself with what my legs could handle while running.   And I thought to myself, “this is great training for Calico.” (my next race)  The beauty so immense, I stopped occasionally for a photo op with my brand new camera:

The boulder hopping went on and on, 1 mile straight, one-way.  Fantastic fun!  Seriously.  It gave a good sweat.

With lots of tide pools along the way:

I had one close call (& WITH CAMERA IN HAND!):

Waves pounded the rocks:

And I ran these rocks until I could run no longer, else the great Pacific swallow me up:

So I headed back running upon these (or rather hopping):

With 2.15 miles on the garmin at the jetty, I decided to run a bit into the marina before returning to the truck:

Great, great fun for a “short” run.  I am learning to love running again (as if I didn’t already), but I’m learning to love it even more with these short “rest” runs.

Miles logged on my 18th day of Streaking into the New Year: 3.16

Thanks for reading!

Harding Truck Trail, Take Two

The first time I ran Harding Truck Trail I didn’t do much running (except on the way back), and I didn’t get very far the trail was such a bear.  It’s not a technical trail.  But it’s never-ending in its climb.  The second time I went to Harding Truck Trail, I didn’t run it at all.  Instead, I watched others suffer the trek when I volunteered for the Harding Hustle 30k race. 

I’ve avoided Harding Truck for a long time.  But then with these recent runs to “Four Corners” where Harding Trail Trail intersects, I’ve been wondering something.  How is it that when I first “ran” Harding Truck Trail I ran south, and the trail appeared to continue on a southern route, yet when it meets “Four Corners” it’s travelling north?  

Did I get out a map?  No.  Did I open up my Google Earth software and investigate?  No.  Of course not.  Today I decided to go on a scouting mission and just run Harding Truck Trail to see where it wound.

The morning was warm, the trail exposed.  Yet, I ran.  And I ran.  And I ran.  That trail kept on climbing and climbing with no end in sight.  I saw one biker quite a ways behind me.  Other than the rider, I was completely alone.

Harding Truck Trail / a lonely trail:

I saw tracks like these ALL OVER THE PLACE!   A mountain lion’s been here:

Still running up, and still running south:

Winter glory:

Still running UP, still travelling south, but moving more and more eastward on the switch-backs:

I recognized some landmarks as I looked back, and in no way was I travelling in the direction of “Four Corners.”  I could see the red cliffs near Black Star Canyon, and Irvine Lake BEHIND me.   And as I switch-backed higher and higher I couldn’t tell when the trail made its turn toward the north.  Finally, I decided if I was going to get back in time to pick up the boys, I needed to head back.  So, I stopped. 

I took a few pictures before heading back on that long downhill.  AND THEN.  And then . . . with the lens still open, I.  DROPPED.  MY.  CAMERA.  If I would have had the strength you would have probably heard the echo of the “F” word travel down into the neighboring counties.  The fact that the lens was open when it hit, and the hard impact that it made, told me that I had broken ANOTHER camera.  This would be number four. 

Sure enough.  My camera was dead.  Gone.  And it was brand new.  Aside from calling hubby to whine about my clumsiness, I tried to let go of the great disappointment I felt.  Why was I holding pepper spray, a Luna Bar, and my camera in the same hand????  Especially with my history!  What a dufus.

I took a detour driving home to check our Modjeska Grade which passes the Santiago Truck Trail entrance (it had been so long since I’d been there).  Later, I went off to the store that everyone loves to hate (Wal-Mart) with receipt in hand.  I told them that the lens didn’t open anymore.  They called in someone from photo.   I didn’t tell him that this was the fourth camera that I killed and I knew exactly why the lens didn’t open.  He didn’t notice or didn’t say anything about the tiny gash on the corner.  It was an easy exchange.  Now, I have a brand new camera.  Let’s hope I’ve learned my lesson!

10.7 miles run today (17.22 km) / 17 days Streaking into the New Year: