San Diego Rock N’ Rock Marathon

I have been aching for a giant race for quite some time.  My races usually range from 50 to 150 runners.  I consider a medium size race one with about 500 runners (I seldom get these on trails).  Big races, in my opinion, have more than 1,000 runners.  GIANT races have more than 10,000 runners.  The last time I ran a giant race was during spring 2009.  That was the San Diego Rock n’ Roll Marathon, my first marathon

You see, I’ve been wanting to get lost in the crowd during a race instead of running by myself for hours.  That’s how it is in trail races – the field spreads out pretty quickly, and with a hundred or less runners, it gets a little lonely on the race course. 

Having missed Nanny Goat this year, I went for it and registered for the San Diego Rock n’ Roll Marathon.  30,000+ runners registered (15,000 for the marathon, the rest for the half).  This is a road race of course.  The last time I ran a road marathon was back in 2010. 

I had precisely two weeks to train and one week to taper, to get ready for this weekend’s Rock n’ Roll Marathon (ha, ha).  My “training” was on 99% trails (another ha, ha) and I knew that I probably wouldn’t beat my first time running this marathon.  Road marathoners on the whole (average folk like me) run faster than long distance trail runners.  I did not fear however.  I was out to have some fun.  Out for a cool day trip to the grand city of San Diego.

I woke at 3:00 AM Sunday morning.  Giving myself twenty minutes to get ready, I was out the door in twenty-eight.  Then I drove a half hour to the nearest San Diego County train station to catch “The Coaster” into San Diego.  This way, I saved on gas, parking money and the heartache of trying to get into the big city with its closed roads and freeway offramps. 

“The Coaster” took off at 4:10, and we made several stops along the way.  Runners and spectators boarded, eventually filling the train to capacity.  We embarked in an area of San Diego called “Old Town,”  the oldest part of the city.  But the sun had not yet risen, so I couldn’t see anything but the lights on the chartered buses that drove us Coaster riders to the start line.

Arriving to the start line in the big city with 30,000 other runners was pleasantly easy.  I thought I’d encounter some frustration – instead, there was zero – just friendly faces, very clean porta-potties, lots of running Elvises, gazillions of really cute running skirts and a delightful sunrise. 

Aboard The Coaster – looks like I’m barely awake.  It was 4:00 AM:

In my corral, #10:

Corral #10 on deck:

I set off at a faster pace than I ever start on trail races.  Around a nine minute pace, I passed The Jester, a pretty famous and pretty dang nice ultra runner in my parts.  He held a sign that read “26 miles to go.”  I looked to the runner on my left and said, “Is it a bad sign if I’m already tired?”  He chuckled and said that he thought so. 

Countless people held up signs for us.  My favorite read, “Run Easy, You’re Not Gonna Win.”  That was me, running easy. 

Though I felt I was running easy, I wasn’t.  My first 5 miles went exceptionally well.  Once I glanced at my garmin and read an 8 mile pace.  I had to double take that look because such a pace isn’t my style. 

My overall goal was to make every five miles in an hour or less. My first five came in under an hour.  My second five came in right at an hour.  That’s when I knew that my 5 miles an hour wasn’t going to last.  I needed mile twenty to come in right at an hour, not mile 10.

One mistake that I made was that I didn’t pack fuel.  With the cost of this race, I assumed we’d have plenty of calories to intake at the stations.  Turns out, the first of two gel stops came at about 10 or 11 miles.  I grabbed three, then dropped one on the run.  (I didn’t get another chance at fuel again until about mile 18!)

The great city of San Diego:

Approximately every mile we ran up on a band.  I didn’t need to turn down my ipod.  The bands played so loudly, they would drown out the music piped into my ears.  The bands were great entertainment.  I didn’t take much time to photo them though because I didn’t want to stop.  There was a lot of variety in the music.  In Old Town, we had Mexican style music.  At the bay, a band made of kids played rock n’ roll.  I even remember a marching band (though they weren’t marching).

If it wasn’t a band, it was something else for entertainment.  There were disc-jockeys playing music.  There were cheer leaders chanting songs.  There was a psychedelic tunnel with wavering lights to run through.  We ran along the water in Mission Bay, and we ran through neighborhoods with enthusiastic spectators offering refreshments like water, beer or red vines candy.  The mood was extremely enthusiastic.

Rock N’ Roll Tunnel:

Mission Bay:

I noticed many differences between my trail races and this road race, some of them advantages, others disadvantages.  For example, what some other runners referred to as hills, seemed pretty flat to me.  And I was also able to make up A LOT of time on the downhills.  Often on trails, the downhills are so technical that I sometimes LOSE time. 

The difference that ended up being detrimental to my game was the fact that road runners don’t look behind them before moving over.  On the trails I MUST look over my shoulder, else I risk being run over by a mountain biker. 

Somewhere between mile 12 and 17 I looked behind my shoulder and moved left to pass a runner in front of me.  The runner suddenly shifted to the left and to avoid crashing into him, I leapt even further to my left.  When my front foot landed, my right foot came down at an unnatural angle in a hole in the road.  Upon impact, I rolled my ankle.  I ran onward relieved that it was a roll and not a twist.  By then my left quad was aching some from the fast downhills.  My right foot neuroma also ached.  So the pain from the ankle roll seemed minimal.  Still, at the next aid, I stopped for 1,000 mg of acetaminophen. 

Then I came upon the slanted freeway.  With a left quad ache, and right ankle and toe (neuroma) ache, the slant of the freeway was quite a chore to maneuver.  Everyone around me seemed to suffer from the slant.  Up aways, I noticed a runner on the shoulder of the “fast” lane.  Taking his lead, I found this spot the flattest of the road.  Cars whizzing by in the opposing lanes was a bit unnerving.  I could only hope that a car didn’t do some kind of twist over the center divider and end up in my lane.  I took my chances.  My 5 miles an hour was out the window.  By this time I just hoped for a 5:30 finish (more than twenty five minutes slower than my first San Diego R n’ R marathon).

The Slanted Freeway:

With about four miles to go, I COULD NOT increase my speed.  When I looked down at my garmin, I was pretty surprised to see a 14 minute mile.  It seemed I was moving much faster.  I had to push hard to get it to a 12 or 11 minute mile.  Even then, it didn’t last long.  Time really didn’t matter though.  The crowds were so enthusiastic and supportive coming into the finish, I really felt like I had accomplished something major. 

I ran on into the finish having run the entire marathon.  I saw The Jester with a sign that now read, “Only .2 miles to go.”  The announcer called out my name, pronouncing my last name correctly (NO ONE, and I mean no one does that).  I crossed that finish line with a few aches and pains.  And though my time was long for that course (just three minutes shy of 6 hours), I never hit “a wall.”  I never felt like I couldn’t take another step.  I had a dang fun time. 

After guzzling some chocolate milk, I picked up my bag.  Then I went off to Petco Park (The home of the Major League baseball team, The Padres).  There I retrieved my free beer.  I bought a hot dog, put some mustard on it.  Then I sat in the bleachers and watched some of the San Diego Rock N’ Roll Concert.  I didn’t stay long though.  I kind of hobbled down the stairway to the streets of San Diego.  Then I walked several blocks to the Sante Fe Train Depot.

The Walk to the station:

I arrived to the station to learn that I had an hour and 40 minutes to wait for The Coaster!  Dang freezing cold, I wished that I had packed a book to pass the time.  After shivering outdoors in the wind for an hour, I finally went into the station to change into dry clothing.  I peeled my clothing off the chaffing burns and took a good long time changing into warmer clothing. 

Waiting in the cold for my train:

Not my train:

There she is, The Coaster:

Though I wanted dearly to sleep on the way back, I didn’t get a wink.  Most of the passengers were runners or spectators, and chatter was high.  In the car ahead, I could hear a man talking obnoxiously loud.  He was obviously drunk.  He was not a runner, but a “regular” on that route, according to law enforcement who came to confiscate his bottle.  I watched as they threw a large EMPTY bottle of vodka into the trash.  Other passengers reported that the guy was guzzling it like water.  I thought to myself, “he’s got to be sick.  I would surely die drinking that much vodka that quickly.”  Seriously.  Dead.  Gone.  Poisoned to death.

The man was eventually booted from the train before our final stop.  That’s when I caught a glimpse of him out the train window.  He was perhaps about my age.  He lurched here and there, struggling to strap on his backpack.  Then he stumbled so badly onward that I was surprised he didn’t fall.  His walk was so ridiculously uncontrollable that he would accidently turn around and walk in the opposite direction, apparently not realizing it.  He made a big impression on my trip this day.  This is why I write about him now.  I was so terribly sad to watch him.  I thought for sure he was going to get hit by a train.  And I felt more than ever so fortunate for having just finished a road marathon, even though I came in much after my desired time.

Back at home, the ankle pain set in.  Unable to walk without a severe limp, I wore an ankle brace for the next two days.  On the third day, though sore, I was able to slip my feet into heels and go off to work without a limp. 

What a long strange trip it had been.  Yay!  What fun!

Remember the time . . .

The marine layer burned off fairly early this morning.  Probably by 6:00 AM.  This meant the possibility of some heat training today by 9:00 AM when I finally took off.  Oddly, I have some romantic notion about complete heat misery.  Remember the time . . . we ran out of water . . . Remember the time . . . it felt like torches were burning our legs.  Wow!  Those were some good times.

Oh, the silly antics of a trail runner. 

With less time to spend this morning on the trails, I decided for a “smaller” Aliso/Wood Canyons loop – almost the smallest loop I run in the park.  Instead of going up the grueling Mentally Sensitive, I went up Meadows.  Now the difference between the two is this:  Mentally Sensitive is so steep that it’s unrunnable.  I power hike most of it.  Meadows, though ridiculously steep, is steep enough to run.  Therefore, I run all of it.  Insanely, wildly, yes, this is what I do.

The first gigantic ascent is the last mile or so of Meadows (from about 2 miles to 3.25, then there’s more climb toward Top of the World):

Well, the thing about Meadows, actually any climb, is to take one step at a time.  I tried that this morning.  I didn’t think about the end, or how many switchbacks I had left.  Thing was, sweat was already pouring down my back by mile two.  The heat bared down in vengeance.  As if, I did anything to him. 

I’ll tell you.  It wasn’t pretty.  I so very much wanted to stop, or even just hike.  But I told myself, “No!  You’ve run this before.  Don’t be a wuss.”  And despite all the misery in the scorching heat up this ridiculous climb, I made it.  (I was delighted too, that the cyclist below didn’t pass me).

Meadows Trail (& yes, I’m wearing cotton):

A quick pose (really an excuse to rest at the top of Meadows):

I made Top of the World in about my regular time.  Not my regular quick time, but my regular slow time. That’s okay.  My shirt was drenched.  And all I really felt was relief – relief that the main uphill was over, and relief that this loop was less than ten miles.  Yay!

I ran down Mathis Trail for my trip back into Wood Canyon.  I met several hikers and cyclists struggling up in the heat.  With no shade whatsoever on Mathis, I was surely glad my trip travelled downward. 

Mathis Trail:

The GPS:

Drive-to-the-Mountains-and-Run-Day

When my phone alarm rang out this morning at 4:15 AM, I thought (seriously!), there’s got to be some mistake.  I must have forgotten to turn off my alarm.  Today’s sleep-in day.  Isn’t it??  But then I remembered, today is drive- to-the-mountains-and-run-day. 

I have only one or two days with enough time to run in the mountains.  This week, I had only one day.  Sleep.  Yes, that would have been delightful.  I lay there face up in my bed, struggling to keep my eyes opened.  “Don’t close them,” I said to myself again and again.  At 4:30, I finally jumped up because I knew that I couldn’t lay there much longer without dozing off.

The skies were black when I finally made it out to my truck with hot mug of coffee in my hand.  The moon was full and bright, lighting up the entire beachside neighborhood.  Not another person stirred.  Not a bird chirped.

If I didn’t absolutely love running mountain trails as well as fully understand the good they would do me, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have made it out to Trabuco Canyon this morning.   Trabuco Canyon not only meant a tough run, but some tough off-road driving for my 2X4 truck just to get there.

I would like to make this post short, as mileage was under 15 miles.  Mountain runs . . . they are hard to make short because they are so beautiful. 

That is why I will mainly do a pictorial for today’s post.  But first I want to point out that this weekend is the one of a race that I wanted to run more than any all year.  I had it on my “For Sure” list.  Nanny Goat 24 Hour run began this morning and I was not at the start.  I pretty much dreamt about this race for months.  However, family commitments made this race impossible.  The sacrifice was difficult to swallow.  But I did this sacrifice knowing that it was best for me, and best for my family.  Actually, there was no choice.  I had to omit Nanny Goat from my race calendar.  Our oldest son is being confirmed tomorrow.  This is similar to a bar mitzvah (though not as triumphant) or a quinceanera to the Mexican culture. (To make a long story short, a Confirmation kind of represents a youth’s acceptance of certain religious doctrines – it includes a church ceremony and communion – to not attend due to a race would have been unacceptable in my eyes.)

Since I didn’t run Nanny Goat today through tomorrow, I was able to get in a Saddleback Mountain run this morning.  And that was truly glorious.  Truly. 

I took off up a lonely mountain.  I thought I was surely alone, when three miles in, three men came hiking down Holy Jim.   Somewhat armed, I couldn’t help but think, “Crap!”

Of course, I kept on running headstrong past the group, chatting with them along the way.  I learned that they took off at 2:00 AM for a hike to the peak.  With a full moon, I’m sure it was glorious.   I would love to do that.

Climbing up Holy Jim – the best thing about Holy Jim is that the climb is spread out over five miles.  The worst thing about Holy Jim is that it’s five miles long!:

Glorious Flora along the way:

Running Along The Main Divide:

Amped up to finally run downhill on West Horsethief:

Flora on Horsethief:

Trabuco Trail:

Only a tad of dirt in the end.

Romancing the Run

From Born to Run (Christopher McDougall)

“. . . Ann insisted, running was romantic; and no, of course her friends didn’t get it because they’d never broken through.  For them, running was a miserable two miles motivated solely by size 6 jeans: get on the scale, get depressed, get your headphones on, and get it over with.  But you can’t muscle through a five-hour run that way; you have to relax into it, like easing your body into a hot bath, until it no longer resists the shock and begins to enjoy it.”

I can relate.  I can so relate.  This morning I “eased” my body into a longish trail run.  Had I not already known that running was like getting into a hot bath, I wouldn’t have gone or a hilly 12.5 mile run today.  It was gloomy and chilly out.  We even had some sprinkles.  I could have easily gone home and gone back to bed.  But I knew, about two miles in, maybe more, my body wouldn’t resist the run.  I’d enjoy it. 

And I did. 

And I had an extra benefit of adventure and beauty.  Running is romantic.  It really is.

Running along Aliso Creek Trail, past what I’ve named Coyote Field (Do you see the coyote in the middle of the field? I witnessed him pounce on some animal, probably a bunny or a squirrel, then tear at its flesh):

Catching some breeze on my way up Mentally Sensitive:

With a little help from a friend:

Always fun to add in a little bushwhacking:

The relief and giddy apprehension of heading down:

Rock It:

Coyote Run (not really near Coyote Field, in fact, I’ve never seen a Coyote on Coyote Run, only deer, rattlers, birds, squirrels and bunnies):

Romancing the Run:

Found It!

I woke this morning at 6 AM, especially tired.  But this was not reason enough to skip my run.  Acceptable reasons to skip this morning’s trails:  broken leg, broken foot, family emergency.  I had a feeling I’d wake up enough for a short run by the time I finished morning chores (getting the boys off to school).

As it was, I did wake up some.  By the time I hit the trails, the skies were still gray and cold.  I didn’t let that fool me.  This time I left the long sleeves at home. 

I had planned on my usual short run, an out-and-back to Top of the World.  On a whim, I decided to extend this run just a tad to search out an old car wreck.  A friend sent me a picture a while back of a blue, bullet-ridden car in the overgrown brush, somewhere off of Lynx.  Last time I ran up Lynx, I couldn’t find the car.  This morning, instead of running back into the canyon via Cholla Trail, I decided to take Lynx and look around some more for this mysterious car.  The weather had by the way, warmed up extensively by then. 

West Ridge on the way to Top of the World, the better trail here is the road less travelled:

Top of the World – always a triumph:

Lynx is a particularly beautiful trail, quite rocky and technical.  I don’t really know why I don’t run it often.  I suppose it’s because Lynx doesn’t add to a nice clean loop.  Though a difficult trail, it’s not the most difficult in these canyons.  And it’s a perfect trail to practice fast downhill technical running.  The trail’s not so thin, that a fall would throw me off the edge. 

Lynx Trail:

Well, I ran down Lynx searching the canyon views for the blue car.  Nothing.  I did spot a trail off in the distance, at the bottom, closer to the opposite canyon wall.  That triggered my search for anything that looked like a trail leading off my edge of the canyon wall.  The first spot of dirt that could have been a trail ended at a sharp drop off.  Down below, I saw nothing but canyon.  The second dirt section that could have been a trail, lead me to an even steeper drop off.  No blue car.  And the trail that I thought I saw at the canyon’s bottom, disappeared.  I figured I’d probably find a trail at the bottom of Lynx that lead into the canyon.  That’s where the car probably laid. 

Before reaching the end, I took one last dirt area that could have been a trail.  It stopped also at a steep drop off.  There was no getting down this edge, that’s for sure.  But lo and behold . . . deep down in the canyon, practically buried by brush, was the bullet-ridden blue car!  I found it! 

See it?

Look closer . . .

Ahh, the thrill of discovery. 

Overdressed (again)

I felt too worn out to run trails this morning.  But I know that I can’t run three days this week due to other obligations.  So, I HAD TO run this morning if I wanted four running days.  Believe me.  I would have much rather gone back to sleep after I made the boys breakfast and lunches, and drove them off to school.  Actually, I would have much rather stayed in bed to begin with and lazily got up, say around 11 AM. 

We were socked in this morning in our seaside town. The breeze was cool, the air damp.  I put on a long sleeved running shirt, filled a handheld and out the door I went for a drive to Aliso/Wood Canyons. 

My run began beneath gray cool skies.  My trot was slow, but deliberate.  I passed two coyotes as they meandered through the dry grass alongside my single-track trail. 

Quick stop in Wood Canyon to stretch tight shins:

Barely a half mile passed running through the dry, yet lovely golden meadows on Meadows Trail, when the sun popped out from the clouds.  Suddenly the sky was blue, and my shirt dripped sweat.  Yup, overdressed again.  I turned my hat around and I begun to think that perhaps a handheld wasn’t the best idea for today’s ten mile loop.  (I turn my hat around because the rim traps heat in around my face, and I hate that). 

A little heat won’t hurt me though, especially dry heat.  As long as I’m not lost and I have access to water, I know I’m okay.  And there’s places with drinking fountains that I know of along the ridge.  But first, there was getting to the ridge.  Of which I, in my infinite wisdom chose the steepest hill (why?  because it’s the steepest hill) to get there. 

Climbing Mentally Sensitive was a bear as usual.  I had to fight against conserving water.  It’s almost a natural inclination when fluids are limited.  I’ve found though that it’s never a good idea to conserve water when I need it.   

A typical step up Mentally Sensitive:

And isn’t it all worth it? (View from Mentally Sensitive):

At the ridge, I debated running the next mile or so to Alta Laguna Park at The Top of the World with about a 1/4 filled handheld.  There was a closer fountain, but I’d have to backtrack to get to it.  I don’t like backtracking.  “I can do it,” I thought.  “It’s only about a mile.”  This is what heat does to a person – it makes you stupid.  But I hadn’t gone completely overboard as the salt dripped down into my eyes.  I told myself, “Don’t be a fool!  How many times do you have to learn?  REFILL.”  And so I ran in the opposite direction into Moulton Park to refill my handheld.  Good thing too.  I drank all of it during that short mile to the next fountain. 

After reaching Top of the World and refilling again, I took the ridge to Mathis Trail for a long downhill trip on an exposed trail with absolutely no shade at all.  By now I would have ripped off my long sleeves and ran in my running bra if I wasn’t so dang modest.  Note to self:  It’s practically summertime.  Time to layer!

In all, these ten miles were a true delight.  (Despite my sleepy sarcasm.  It’s SO past my bedtime). 

Running down Mathis into Wood Canyon:

The Profile:  (Yikes!  Actually, not as bad as it looks):