The Mental Game

In every sport there’s the physical game and there’s the mental game.  The physical game takes lots of time perfecting, countless hours on the field, on the trail, etc.  The mental game on the other hand, is more difficult for me, and takes place all in my head.  It’s the battle against yourself.  It’s the battle, with me anyway, over whether I can do something, whether I deserve it, or whether I merely quit.  Just, as many aspects can throw the physical game (injury, not being fit), even more things can throw my mental game.  I have been losing the mental game the past few of weeks.  If you read regularly, you may have noticed the posts growing more negative, less carefree. 

Today begins the first run of Hard Week.  And I began this morning’s run having kicked the mental pitfalls out the door a couple days ago.  Forget that I was unable to secure a full-time job for September.  Forget that California is going bankrupt.  Forget that I feel inadequate to finish Twin Peaks.  These things I can overcome, as I can also overcome my bad diet, my failings as a mother, as a writer, and so many other things.  After all, we learn most from our failings don’t we?

Fortunately for me, the weather helped me get off to a good start this morning.  I got a nice cool ocean breeze running up to Top of the World in Laguna Beach.  My ankle is still worrisome to me.  But the pain was minimal.  When I returned home after a 6.5 mile rolling hills run, I iced it, wore an ankle brace for a few hours, then gave myself a pedicure, and it seems just fine. 

This week is going to be a tough, tough week running-wise.  I think I’ll just take it one run at a time.

Ready to ascend upon Cholla Trail which leads to West Ridge: 

Running trails at Aliso/Wood Canyons (either Cholla or West Ridge):

Heading back down Cholla (facing Wood Canyon) after a fulfilling cool summer morning run:

Out-and-back profile to Top of The World:

Fit for a Mountain

I made it to the Saddleback Mountains this morning and set off running up Holy Jim at the first sign of dawn.  Right away, gnats swarmed my face, and I thought that I’d name today’s blog “Die-Gnats-Die!”  The little devils managed to get behind my sunglasses.   This provided great motivation to pick up my pace and get out of the shaded forest area of Holy Jim. 

Before I could escape the gnats, I came upon a large fallen tree that made the trail impassable.  So, I hiked the slope up and around its yanked out roots.  About 2 miles up the trail, only one gnat remained hovering about my face. 

Even though I’m wasn’t “training,” I worked hard.  I’m not “training,” because that word simply stresses me out too much lately.  Why is it such a stressor?  Because I’m beginning to feel I don’t stand a chance in heck at finishing Twin Peaks within the time requirements.  And instead of trying, I gave up for about a week.  But I just can’t give up.  I’m one of those stupid people.  I simply don’t know when to quit! 

Reaching the top of Holy Jim Trail (Bear Springs):

Disappointed somewhat in my time getting to Bear Springs, I made that left onto The Main Divide and kept on running.  I usually hike quite a bit of that beginning truck trail.  Today, I ran and continued to run.  Eventually though, I grew so worn down, I had to stop.  Yes, that is STOP and rest.  I about lost my mind about there.  With the sun beating down and no one in sight, I yelled out a profanity and threw my empty handheld to the rocky ground.  I held back a huge urge to pick up the rocks and start heaving them off the mountain.  I ran a few more steps, water bottle in hand, and the anger welled up again.  This time I threw my handheld on the ground and stomped on it like a little child throwing a fit. 

Well, I pulled myself together and made it to Santiago Peak in a total of 3 hours.  I wanted at most 2:45. 

Santiago Peak:

After a mountain top view and a cool down from my mountain fit, I had an enjoyable 8 mile run back down to the canyon.  I tripped several times (without falling!)  The heat bared down on my legs so terribly, it felt like someone was holding torches near them.  And it was still fairly early.  I came across several hikers making their way up, all with miserable looks on their faces.  I thought to myself, “Why do they put themselves through that.”  And then I laughed. I put myself through that.  I get this in return:

Miles run this morning:  16.17

Rut

I am currently in the midst of the biggest running rut I’ve ever experienced.  I was rarely the lady who needed pushing out the door to go run.  I’d run out the door to go run trails. 

This week I’ve run a little over 6 miles.  I’ve awakened early every day to run.  My stack of gear is already to go, on top of the piano.  Yet, when it comes right down to it, I am in such a downer mood that I can’t get out the door.  Let me rephrase that, I refuse to push myself out the door. 

I may be sabotaging myself because the big ultra is now just two months away (less actually).  My diet has been crummy.  I’m not losing weight.  And I’m partaking too much from the vine. 

It’s like I’ve fallen and I can’t get up.  But I will get up.  (& even during this rut, I’ve been strength training on my living room floor).  And as Scarlett O’Hara said so eloquently in Gone with The Wind, “After all, tomorrow is another day.”

Restart

This morning I pushed the “Restart” button and went for my first run of this NON TRAINING week.  For some reason this whole “training” thing is throwing me for a loop.  I’m filled with guilt, regret and disappointment at various points during the week.  Yuk.  I DO NOT like that one bit.  I would rather just RUN. 

I love to run trails.  So, this week, that is exactly what I’m going to do.  I’m NOT training.  I’m merely running on dirt, on trails, in the lovely wilderness. 

Whatever mileage I run is the mileage I run.  Period.  Next week, I’ll get back to “training.”  And if I don’t, OH WELL.  I’m approaching 48 years of age for goodness-sake, I  really am happy that I’m able to do what I can.  Though I played lots of sports, I was NEVER a contender, nor was I was I someone to look back on.  (Occasionally, out-of-no-where, I’d hit a triple out of the blue – so I was considered decent. – I however, never considered myself decent.  I was so achieving the grades)  I never, EVER thought that I could achieve physically.  I was the sissy girl.  Perhaps that is why trail running has hit such a nerve with me.  I don’t have to run fast.  I just have to endure,

I left the house this morning with all the boys (& man, as in husband) still asleep.  I went for a short out-and-back to Top of the World overlooking Laguna Beach. 

I felt just right.  I didn’t feel weak.  I didn’t feel overly strong, but I kept a decent pace.  I didn’t care though about pace however, especially since  my Sunday fail.  So I spent a bit of time at the Top of the World overlooking a Pacific Ocean covered with billowy clouds.  Bliss (without alcohol or any other any hallucinogenic – not that I would actually know about that).

Surprisingly, I came across more than usual the amount of runners than I have lately.  That’s probably because I got an early start.  That of course meant for much cooler temperatures.  Glory.

Of course I am a runner kind of crazy:

Feeling FINE, running up cholla trail toward Top of The Word(I’m not too sure at this point):

This Week’s Big Fail

The upper insides of my arms were raw from chaffing yesterday.  (Note to self: I’m never again going to wear a sleeveless shirt with side seams when I run).  Anyway, I rustled around in the bathroom cupboards for something to help the rawness.  And can you believe it – I actually found a couple tubes of baby rash ointment.  Wow.  Our youngest son is 7 years old. This stuff was old.  I thought I try some anyway, and sure enough, it helped sooth the pain of chaffing on my arms.

I left the house this morning in the dark, 4:30 AM, for an early start on my long run.  I drove through Trabuco Canyon unable to even see the outline of Santiago Peak.  I could see the taillights of another truck driving the gravel/dirt road.  On the side of this road, I noticed a parked truck.  A woman and young girl (about 8 years old, with long dark hair) stood outside the truck by themselves in the pitch-black dark. They seemed to be waiting for something.  They didn’t wave me down.  I didn’t stop. 

As I drove deeper into the canyon, the truck up ahead pulled over.  I passed him and noticed a mountain bike upright in the bed of his truck.  He had the light on in the cab and was looking down on something.

I passed him and drove on along this bumpy road, and passed another car parked at an angle along the road.  There were no lights.  It was apparently empty.

When I finally made it to the trailhead it was still dark.  And so I sat and waited for the sun.  I didn’t need it to “rise.”  I just wanted the sky to lighten a bit before I took off running up the mountain.  Then the truck I passed (the one with the mountain bike) pulled into the lot.  He parked a couple spaces away.  And we both sat in the dark . . . waiting.

I applied Glide to all the other places that normally chafe (waistband, the lines of my sportsbra, etc).  I applied sunscreen and turned on my garmin.  And I continued to sit.  Unlike yesterday when I didn’t think, and just ran, this morning, I sat there and thought. 

I had my 24 mile route all figured out.  I packed some plastic bags to clean up some of the empties at the “secret water stash.”  I was even wearing “short” shorts to get rid of that tan line half way up my thighs.  I was there baby! I was there!

And then a strange thing happened.  I started thinking about the heat.  I started thinking about all that time alone and not seeing my family until about 3PM, and I got LONELY.  Sad, kinda pathetic lonely.  Pity-party lonely. 

Now, I have run alone many times.  I have been alone many times.  I enjoy alone time.  I enjoy running alone.  But being alone, and being lonely are too separate things.  Being alone is joyful and peaceful.  Lonely is miserable. 

Looking up at the sky as it started to change color from black to grayish-blue, I thought about how I just couldn’t do it.  I could not run those 24 mountain miles alone.  Not today.  I was dang sick of the heat, and I would be lonely.  I HATE lonely. 

“But,” I thought to myself.  “It would be absolutely ludicrous to go home.”  That would mean two hours driving total, not to mention prepping for this run.  “LUDICROUS.”

“No it wouldn’t,” I answered back defiantly.  “I can do whatever I want!”

And so as the sky grew a little brighter, I turned the key in the ignition and began driving back out of Trabuco Canyon.  The time was about 6:00 AM when I drove past the car parked haphazardly that I saw in the dark on the way in.  It looked like two guys were sleeping in the two front seats.  I could clearly see one, the other was slumped down too far for me to see anything but the top of his head.  When I drove past, I looked into my rear-view mirror and saw that the passenger door was wide open.  The site was just too alarming to ignore. 

I backed up on the dirt road up next to the car and yelled “HEY!” 

No response.  Mind you, my car was idling right next to their’s.  “ARE YOU GUYS ALRIGHT?”

Neither of the men responded.   I could tell the guy in the passenger seat was breathing.  But I wasn’t going to get out of my car and look into their’s further to make sure they were okay.  So, I called the sheriff’s.  I really hoped I wasn’t getting them in trouble – the guys after all, may have been passed-out drunk.   I seriously worried over their condition.  After relaying their location, description, car type and license plate, I took off.  I didn’t want to wait around in case something terrible had occurred.  When I arrived to the canyon lot, I told the first sheriff arriving where to locate the car.  And then I drove home.

I’ve been in kind of a rut ever since.  But I will crawl out soon.  Very soon.

Next week’s running plan:  SKIP THE PLAN.  I’m going to run whatever I want to run.  It’s “Easy” week coming up, so I thought that’d be a good week to be on my own schedule.

Thanks for reading about my fail.

Heat!

Went through it all again this morning when my phone alarm rang out at 4:00 AM.  I rose from bed, walked to the living room and lay on the couch.  Before I fell back asleep, the bargaining began.  It’s hard to bargain with just today and tomorrow left of the week and a specific number of miles to run.  A LOT OF MILES. 

I thought, “Well, I can run coastal hills and do two big loops at Aliso for 24 miles today, then run my ten tomorrow.  That saves at least an hour and a half of driving time, not to mention, it’s an easier run than a mountain adventure.  I could sleep for at least two more hours!!”  I chewed on that for a couple minutes.  “Or . . . OR, I could flip Saturday and Sunday’s schedule and run ten miles today, getting even more time to sleep in”  That is what I chose.  Sunday turned into long run (yikes – talk about putting it off to the last minute!)

I arrived to Aliso/Wood Canyons Park alarmed by how many people were already there.  The dirt lot was full (it’s NEVER full).  The church’s huge lots across the street were full with park-goers as well.  I found a small spot along the street curb to back into.  People were packing bikes up, bringing bikes out.  Groups were gathering with their hiking poles.  I thought, “Who are these stupid people?”  It was so DANG HOT.  Mind you, I knew very well that I was among these stupid people.  In fact, many of them were smarter than me, because they were finishing up, not just starting.

An entire high school cross country team cooled down in the church lot.  Another high school boys’ cross country team made their way into the park’s lot.  As I ran through Aliso Canyon I saw dozens of poor, poor teen-aged girls, grinding in the wicked heat, carrying NO WATER.  They ran from a school that I teach vocational education to adults at night during the school year.  I’ll tell you something, there’s be NO WAY a coach could tell me not to carry a bottle of water.  By 9:15 AM, temperatures were approaching 90 F and rising. 

I knew once I turned off onto Meadows Trail I’d lose the runners.  Hardly anyone ever runs up Meadows.  And I did lose the runners.  But what I gained was about fifty mountain bikers (at different times) flying down that trail.  None of them yielded to the runner (that’s me).  In the mountains, cyclists always yield to the runners.  Anyway, I knew that the bikers weren’t going to yield to me, so I jumped out of the way and ran in the brush, again and again up that mile long switch-back.

Welcome to Meadows Trail:

I made it to the top of Meadows in pretty good time, drenched in sweat and salt.  Several bikers and hikers rested in the shade at the kiosk.  A ranger truck pulled up and parked, then one of the ranger guys got out and handed everyone sitting in the shade some bottled water. 

Plenty of hikers made their way along the top of Meadows.  Even more bikers flew down the hillside.  But I didn’t see any runners.

Top of Meadows:

There’s not much more to tell of this trail tale, except that the weather was flippin’ hot and grew hotter.  Every kiosk was crowded with people resting in the shade.  I saw the ranger truck a few more times, again handing water to people.  I took in minimal calories and lots of fluids.  Good news, though chaffed miserably, and crusted in salt, my energy stayed with me all the way back to the truck.

When I arrived home, we all washed the trucks in this heat.  While resting in the house after the first truck, my husband asked, “How do you do it?  How do you run for hours in this heat.?”

“I just do it,” I said.  “I don’t really think about it.”

Top of the World:

Shade at last in Wood Canyon:

Miles run today:  12.01

Changing it up

I hardly recall shutting off my 6:00 AM alarm this morning.  I do remember waking at 7:00 AM, turning to my husband and gruffly saying, “I’ll run this afternoon.”  To this he sighed and said something like, “Please no complaints when you don’t do it.” 

Why wouldn’t I do it?  Because it’s DAMN HOT, that’s why!!  But I did do it.  Why?  Because I have to.  I need to. 

I checked on-line for the temperatures at my nearest trails: 97 F (36 C).  The temperatures in my beach town were 85 F (approx. 29 C).  So . . . I ran a 15 mile suburban, tourist-city-run this afternoon, beginning at 1 PM.  And the 85 degree temperatures did not feel cool.  Not one bit.

The beginning of today’s run was a struggle, first off, because it was on pavement, and secondly, because I ran inland, mainly uphill, away from the shore (which means HEAT).  Pavement is such a chore for me because I’m not used to the constant stride, the same exact movement over and over.  There were no rocks to hop onto, no logs to walk, just cement for miles.  Eventually though, I made my way back to the Pacific (and I got a bit of variation).

Making my way beneath the highway to the grand ole’ Pacific Ocean:

When I finally made it down to the seaside, I was drenched in sweat.  Yet, I was giddy.  Though the weather was still hot for these parts, a cool ocean breeze blew here and there.  Children ran about, literally screaming with glee.  Innumerable surfers road coca-cola-bottle-colored waves into the slanted shore.  Families spread out on their blankets.  Mothers paced the shore anxiously watching the waves.  As a runner, this was all great “eye candy.”

I was a tad out of place because I was the only person wearing shoes.  The only runner I saw, ran barefoot.  And she blew me away.  I studied her footprint in the sand and noticed she had a heavy forefoot strike.  That would kill me.  A forefront strike that is.  Can’t do it. 

The Difficulty of getting a self portrait:

Sand running was a chore, but not because of strenuous difficulty.  I ran the wet sand which as always, was a delight.  The chore was avoiding the waves, as tide was rising.  Frequently I ran up the sand to avoid a wave rushing up to my legs.  Then it happened.  A wave drenched my right foot.  For a mili-second my wet shoe bummed me out.  Then I remembered that I run through creeks all the time and have frequently run with drenched feet.  For some reason, I guess, it seemed (at first) that suburban running should be with dry feet. 

Since I don’t know the mileage anymore of running locally, I played a little game – a guessing game to get me through the heat.  I’d pick a point far off and guess what mileage I’d be at when I reached it.  Amazingly, I was usually right on. 

After the sand running, I ran up a tortuous amount of stair steps to the headlands where I did some “trail” running, sand trail running.  The views of the deep blue sea were awesome.

Running The Headlands:

After the headlands, I sat for a moment to empty what I thought would be two pounds of sand from my shoes.  Ended up, I only had a small pile of sand to account for.  But it felt great to get that stuff out of my shoes. 

From there, I ran down to the marina for the grand finale of this run.  It was a long grand finale.  And it was still warm.  But I found this portion lovely with plenty of shade and lots of happy people. 

Though I didn’t get the elevation in today (but this wasn’t a “flat” run by any means), I’m super glad I chose to give myself a break from the extreme heat.  And I’m super glad that I slept in.  I hardly ever do that.  I need to do that every so often.

Running down to the Marina:

A Popular Look-Out Spot:

Crossing the Bridge over to the Marina Island, which I ran 1 1/2 times, weary, but wanting to get to as close to 15 miles as possible:

It’s always good to change it up once in a while!