Weird Run

Yesterday, I planned for today’s run.  I planned a run to Santiago Peak, 24+ miles round trip (38.6 km).  So looking forward to this run, I “daydreamed” about it as I drifted off to sleep.  Then oddly, I began to worry about things – things like weather, mountain lions, human predators.  Still, I scooted off this morning happily, looking forward to this run (armed and with plenty supplies).  The last thing school moms said to me as I rushed away after dropping off the boys was, “Better hurry before the rain comes.”

Though the skies were gray, the sun nowhere to be seen, my foremost worry was fluids.  I knew I couldn’t carry enough to sustain the entire trip.  So in addition to the 70+ fluid ounces in my pack, I carried an additional 32 ounces to stash on my way up.  Fearing a storm (even though it’s not supposed to come in til Friday!), I also packed sleeves, head warmth and wore three shirts.  Three!  Not only that, I shoved the basketball sweats I wore to the trailhead into my pack.  I started off, uphill carrying a much heavier load that I’m used to.  This did not make for a good start.

A quick shot at the start:

Very quickly climbing up the canyon, I was above the clouds, and the sun shined brightly:

The trailhead gate was open, so as I made that first three mile pavement climb through a colorful valley, three cars passed me, one motorcycle and one dirt bike.  One of the cars (a small SUV) had a man and a young boy inside.  Then some time later, a small SUV passed me driving down.  There was only a man inside, no boy.  NOW, I have no idea if this was the same SUV, or even the same color of car.  Both men waved and smiled at me, and I didn’t have the slightest idea whether the two even resembled each other.  Still, I fretted over whether this was the same car, and if so, what happened to the boy!!!

Okay, I guess I was freaking out a little.  Fear and discomfort began to creep in even more.  When mankind vanished and I was alone, I felt a little less paranoid.  A bobcat ran the road just ahead of me, and running uphill I actually attempted to catch a photo.  But the cat was gone in an instant up the valley side.  Besides the squeal of the squirrels, I could hear woodpeckers banging against trees throughout the valley.  Tiny yellow flowers lined the trail edge.  And the water rushing over boulders was music to my ears since I didn’t wear earphones – I never wear earphones when running up this valley alone.   

Still bundled up at one of several stream crossings:

When my feet finally hit dirt, at about mile three, I scoured the land for a place to hide my extra fluids and sweats.  I didn’t find a good hiding place until about a half mile later.  Feeling more comfortable being lighter and cooler, I ran up Maple Springs toward the top.  I saw no other runners, though a few more cars and a couple motorcycles passed me.   I found an iphone practically buried in the dirt, picked it up and tried to phone the owner by going to “contacts” and phoning “Home.”  No service. 

Music helped relax me as I ran up the mountain.  Though I’m not sure I ever felt completely relaxed.  I think that I was so into my fear and discomfort that I only looked down or ahead.  Relief came once again when I looked around and saw an awesome sea of clouds.

Beauty above the clouds:

When I reached “Four Corners,” I stood in awe above that beautiful sea of white puffy clouds.  Then suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, but it had been lingering all along, the feeling of dread, no,  doom, completely overcame me.  I felt, not exactly thought, “What the hell am I doing spending so much time running when I should be home hugging my family, when I should be going door-to-door for fulltime employment so that we can give the boys what we used to be able to give them?  WHAT?  THE? HELL? AM? I DOING???”  And though I posed for the picture below with a smile on my face, I was not feeling that smile.  Afterward, I wept behind those dark glasses, over many things.  And suddenly, I thought, “Forget it,” and thwarted my trip to the peak.  Instead, I ran back down Maple Springs to my car. 

Everyone was surprised to see me so early back home. I hugged my boys, layed down on my bed and fell asleep for at least two hours. 

Tomorrow.  Though nothing terrible happened today, nothing even bad happened.  But, perhaps tomorrow still will bring a better day.

Four Corners:

One last view before running back to the truck:

Running down the mountain:

Back in the valley:

Yucca (Spanish Bayonet):

Elevation:

Satellite:

Afterthought:  the guy who owns the iphone that I found stopped by our house tonight to pick it up.  He seemed like a nice kid (quite young, 17 – 21 is my guess).  He and his buddies hiked to Santiago Peak today.  Bravo.  Bravo!

Back to our Regular Programming

Three days.  THREE DAYS I did not run.  Saturday I taught a day long computer “crash course,” I missed my family so much, that I just couldn’t get out there Sunday and run.  I decided a rest would do me good – time with the family would do me even better. 

This week is “early-out” every day for our two youngest boys, so I planned on a run straight out of the school lot.  Thing was, we moved our clocks forward one hour yesterday, which caused quite a bit of havoc this morning.  Monday is the day we really feel the time change in our house.  I was so dang tired, and not even feeling that well after 3 days of unhealthy eating, that I promised myself, “as soon as I get these boys off to school, I’m driving straight home and going back to bed!”

But I couldn’t do it.  I had to run.  I HAD to.  March was supposed to be my tough training month.  Aside from that, I was beginning to slide into a fit of depression.  When Mommy’s not well, the family’s not well.  The same could be said for Daddy, I suppose.  But in this case, it was Mommy, and she needed to get back to her regular programming. 

So, I hit my local trails at Aliso/Wood Canyons and ran an out-and-back up Cholla, up and down West Ridge with some detours on the little side trails to add some more elevation, to Top of the World.  The trails were full with runners, hikers and mountain bikers today. The skies were blue with giant wispy clouds.  The weather was cool with light breezes.  Baby lizards scampered back and forth across the trail.  And I do believe my heart was singing as I ran the rolling hills of West Ridge.

I’m so happy that I didn’t go with the original plan and return to bed.   I felt strong running this morning.  And even though it didn’t feel like I ran any faster than normal, I finished this out-and-back about 15 minutes faster than usual.

Elated on West Ridge Trail:

View of Laguna Wilderness and Bommer Canyon from West Ridge:

Detour off West Ridge (Park Avenue Nature Trail) overlooking Pacific Ocean:

Quick Pose at Top of the World before heading back:

Satellite of my “shortish run”:

Elevation Profile of out-and-back to Top of the World:

If Three is Good, Five is Better. Right?

I headed back to Meadows Trail this morning in Aliso/Wood Canyons.  I had my heart content on hill repeats today, but got to thinking how much I’d enjoy running the “big” loop.  Then at the very last minute, as I snapped on my gear, I changed my mind.  If I ran the big loop, I’d end up playing – I’d put in some swing time, maybe climb a tree, pose for too many pictures.  Yes, my main goal is to have fun running trails.  But with next month’s race (the one that I foolishly registered for because I had birthday money burning a hole in my pocket), I felt I needed to train, not play. 

So, I ran 3/4 miles of Aliso Creek Trail and hopped onto the single track to finish off the 1.5 opening miles to Wood Canyon.  I only visited Wood Canyon for a short stint, as a left onto Meadows came quickly.  After another mile of mildly rolling hills, I arrived to my destination – the point where I would begin and end my Meadows hill repeats, where the trail really begins to climb, just a few feet past Mentally Sensitive.

The day was warm, though I wore a light cotton shirt, which never dried.  It provided a nice coolant when the wind blew.  I felt strong on my first and second trips up that steep switch-back.  Mountain bikers made their way up, some riding, others walking.  A few runners also made their way down.  On my third trip up, I noticed one of the runners was doing repeats as well (he ran it twice, that I saw, and appeared much stronger than I).  Hikers also made their way up and down Meadows Trail, in lesser numbers.

The fourth trip running up Meadows was the most difficult of today’s repeats, both mentally and physically.  I could feel by the weight in my pack that my fluids were low.  I conserved on my 4th trip down (which I swear against, conserving fluids that is) so that I’d have some for trip number five up the hill.

My fifth run up Meadows was most difficult physically, yet I found it not as challenging mentally.  Why?  Because I knew that it was my last trip to the top.  I made it to the top with fluids still and couldn’t help myself from guzzling down. Well . . .   

I ran out of fluids with about 3 miles remaining to my truck.  It was a bitch of a run from that point on.  I took a slightly different route back, opting for the pavement for all of Aliso Creek Trail, because it’s slightly shorter.  Without fluids, I could barely run.  I’d pick out a tree or spot of shade and tell myself, “run to that.”  Using this method again and again, I finally arrived to my truck, and without even stretching, grabbed for a nice large bottle of cold Gatorade from the back seat.

Dehydration is not good.  I felt ill for much of today.  Stupid mistake.  I was running repeats and could have easily stashed extra water at the bottom of the hill.  Live and learn.

Top of Meadows #1:

Top of Meadows #2:

Top of Meadows #3:

Top of Meadows #4:

Top of Meadows #5:

And . . . oh yes!  It’s snake season again.  More importantly, rattlesnake season.  Here’s my first sighting of the year, a cute little baby.  Do not fear.  Be alert, turn down the music so that you can hear rattlers, and just remember to give them their space.  Though they can coil up in a split second, their striking distance is probably only half their body length, if even that. : )

Meadows x 3

With little time and little gasoline, a mountain run was not “in the cards.”  I needed to make this morning’s miles COUNT.  By “count,” I mean difficult. 

I decided on hill repeats up Meadows – yup, the trail that used to give me great anxiety, the trail that I feared!  I’ll tell you one thing that running up West Horsethief does.  It dwarfs even the toughest hills on my coastal trails.  Even Meadows.  I ran up and down it three times this morning.  I could have done more.  But I had to get back home for chores and get ready for work.

After about a 2 mile warm-up, I arrived at Meadows:

A Magical Entrance to Meadows:

Heading toward the first climb up – this is why they call it Meadows:

First Arrival to the Top of Meadows (Overlooking Laguna Beach):

First trip down Meadows (Saddleback Mountains in background):

Running UP Meadows #2:

Arrival to Top of Meadows #2:

Going down #2:

Going up #3:

Arrival to Top of Meadows #3:

Heading back to Wood Canyon:

Profile:

Converted!

When you become a long distance runner (something I never in a million years would have thought I’d become, and I still have a hard time admitting to) you lose perspective on distance. 

Before continuing, I want to note that I consider myself more a trail runner than I do a long distance runner.  Many athletes run much longer distances than I.  Just so happens that I love trails so much, that I run and run and run.

Anyway, back to losing perspective.  I’ve forgotten how difficult it was to get my long run up to 4 miles.  And though I remember the joy of running ten miles for the first time, I’ve come to think of ten miles as a short run.  Four miles is really short.  That’s what I mean about losing perspective.  I know dang well that ONE mile is a long way.  It’s just hard for me to see now.  My family knows that I have no perspective on distance, and of course teases me about it.  My son says things like, “Mom thinks 20 miles is a short run,” which I don’t, or, “What’d you run, 100 miles today?”  (Of course, I have not done a 100 mile run).

Well, this morning, I think I finally converted my husband into losing distance perspective.  I told him that I was going to run to The Top of the World and back via Cholla Trail and West Ridge, a six mile run.  When I returned, he looked at me surprised to see me in the house so “quickly” and said, “Boy, six miles is short!”  Yes, he actually said that six miles was short.  LOL. 

Yes it was a “shortish” run, but by no means SHORT.  And I ran it in my usual stomping grounds, Aliso/Wood Canyons – it was a lovely, relaxing run.

Welcome to Wood Canyon:

Spring Bouquet:

My favorite running shoes:

Another Spring Bouquet:

A Look Down on Laguna Canyon from West Ridge:

Spring flowers Contrast Burnt Shrubbery at Top of the World:

Top of the World:

6.39 miles (10.28 miles) run this morning:

Oh, No! Not Again.

Over the past 2 weeks, I’ve gone up West Horsethief FIVE times.  Four of those ascents have been over the past 4 days.  This morning, I went up the fifth time with a small group of friends.  Thank goodness for them because the climb was harder than ever for me.  As soon as we began that switchback up, my body and soul shrugged, “Oh, No!  Not again!”  Without Judi, Matt and Kurt this morning, I think that I may have turned around and taken another route.

I suppose I’m a little rambunctious to expect improvement going up this much hated loved trail so early.  My calves still felt like stone this morning.  And honestly, I haven’t been foam rolling as much as I should with climbs like this (I’ve been working more job hours – glory, glory : )

Anyway I’ve been this way for as long as I can remember – expecting immediate results from my efforts.  Thankfully, trail and long distance running has taught me a bit of patience.  At the same time, fortunately, one of my qualities is that I don’t know when to quit.  Hopefully, that won’t be the death of me.  For those of you who have been reading this blog for a LONG time, you might remember, I finally made the decision to drop Bulldog 50k to prove that I knew when to quit.  I did it once (quit that is), and I haven’t quit since.  My husband is right.  I really don’t know when to quit.

Thing is, I am extremely nervous over next month’s 50k.  That race climbs Horsethief at mile 23.  And I’m pretty much scared out of my mind.  I haven’t decided yet on a “game plan,” except for the fact that I plan on training smart and hard for all of March.

Despite the extremes of our loop this morning the run was delightful, as well as the company.  The weather was perfect, though a little warm, breezes added an extra comfort, as well as, the shade here and there. 

Climbing up West Horsethief (notice ocean in background):

“Ultra runner” Judi, training for her first 50 miler:

I bet that I never mentioned that I’m a gum chewer.  Well, I am.  I think that’s true of many ex-smokers LOL:

Top of West Horsethief Trail.  It’s an honor to run with this group and all trail runners I’ve run with (from left to right, me, Kurt, Judi, Matt):

After West Horsethief, we ran The Main Divide for approximately 6 miles.  The Main Divide, is the truck trail that runs along the top of this portion of The Cleveland National Forest.  There’s lots of ups and downs, with views of the west and the east.  On a clear day like today, we could see Lake Elsinore, Lake Matthews and Riverside county on one side.  On the other, we could view Orange County, The Pacific Ocean and even Catalina Island.

Main Divide View of the Pacific Ocean and Catalina Island:

Frolicking along The Main Divide:

Making our way down Holy Jim Trail:

After tucking my camera away, I had to pull it out one more time for a view from Holy Jim Trail:

The run down Holy Jim Trail is five miles.  And though it’s downhill, after what we’d already run, I found it quite challenging.  Two runners rolled their ankles.  I tripped at least 3 times, but saved myself from falling.  With all the snow melted, you can be sure, I stopped at the spring and drenched my cap.  After 8 stream crossings before the trailhead (and 3 or 4 afterward) we made it back to the trail alive and well and lively.  Driving that bumpy off-road trip back, we all had a chuckle because after describing how difficult that run was, we couldn’t wait to get out there again.

14.15 miles logged (22.77 km):

ps.  I really can’t say how fortunate I am in this difficult time in my life to have such a grand refuge. 

Hill Repeats on West Horsethief? LOL.

For a long time during my short trail running “career” Bulldog Road was my nemesis.  Bulldog Road is dirt road in Malibu Creek State Park that runs a little over 3 miles.  Then I ran Holy Jim, a local trail in the Cleveland National Forest (5 miles).  And Holy Jim became my nemesis.  Once I conquered Holy Jim, I couldn’t wait to get back to Bulldog.  But I didn’t get back.  Instead, I met West Horsethief.  I thought I had kind of conquered it – conquered it, as in I could run the whole thing in training.  And conquered it, as in, hopefully, it wouldn’t “kill” me in a race.  Problem is, West Horsethief CONQUERED ME in my last trail race.  I think that I was feeling a little “cocky,” so the beating took me by surprise.  AND all of Horsethief is only a little less than 2 miles long.  The major climb portion is even less!

That beating that Horsethief gave me really pissed me off.  I try to be a calm, patient person.  But I’m really not.  I took West Horsethief’s beating personal.  And silly me – before this “beating”, I went and registered for a 50k that goes up this trail at mile 23!  I needed to do something, and something fast.

My grand idea today was to run up and down West Horsethief three times.  I must be the “Queen of Denial” because it was WAY harder than I thought it would be.  Going up that third time was a death march (I don’t mean to lighten or disrespect those in the Bataan Death March WWII or other death marches throughout history).  Actually, climb 2 was pretty bad.  Climb 3 was terrible, but I had the mental battle over during climb 3, knowing that I was running my final “lap.”

Almost the entire adventure, a helicopter with red blinking lights flew in and out of Trabuco Canyon.  At times it flew lower than I ran.  At times, it seem to be attempting to land on a high meadow across the valley.  It would leave, then return and hover and circle the same area for quite some time.  This made me nervous as I mentioned in the video of this adventure below, for a few reasons.  First off, I wondered whether someone was injured, and if so, I worried (selfishly) that the injury could be due to a cougar attack.  Secondly, I worried that someone was missing, or worst yet, dead.  Other things that crossed my mind were 1) the dumping of a corpse or 2) a psycho was running loose in the wilderness.  

The Movie 😅