Mileage is Low–Okay, Here’s the Plan

Mileage is low for 2013, this after a grand 2012 mileage total (for me that is).  I could give you lots of excuses for this year’s progress.  I won’t do that though.  I am one of those fortunate employees who have an influential boss.  The best thing I’ve got from her so far (& I’m pretty sure there’s more to come) is this:  Don’t give me excuses, give me your plan.  She says this to the seniors and other lower classmen who come to us for credit recovery.  And at age 48, I have so much to learn from this.  Forget the excuses, let’s get a plan.

Here’s my plan:  Run.  And then run some more.  And then run again.  I’ve got the ankle boot off.  I’m wearing a simple wrap-like brace.  I’ll start off slowly with a hike, then after that I’ll go for a run, if pain permits (And pain always permits, doesn’t it? )

I’m not really that concerned about my low mileage.  I know that if I can get this silly injury under control then I can get my training into “full-swing.”

Second to the mileage, I really must change my diet.  I’m not talking drastically.  I seldom eat desert.  I hardly ever indulge in things like chips, cakes and ice cream.  My downfalls are hard candy, cheese and wine, and corn tortillas, and a bit more pasta than I should indulge in.  The plan is simple here.  All I need to do is add more vegetables and a tiny bit more fruits.  That way I will be too full to take in a large quantity of pasta and/or chips, cheese and other indulges.  Wine on the other hand will be more difficult, but not impossible, and not even excruciating. The plan is when everything is accomplished, chores, fitness, children, etc., etc., etc., – that is the only time wine is okay, and even then, just sometimes.  Sweets and other candies, well, I really need to dump these entirely.

Here’s to practicing the remedies to my defaults!!  Hip-Hip-Hurray!

Yes; I am quite silly.

Only Insane People Do This

I’m not running the Harding Hustle ultra at the end of this month, nor did I plan to.  I did however do the Harding Hustle training run this morning.

Why?  Oh, I don’t know.  The camaraderie?   Perhaps.  Emmett was going to be there.  And he was bringing my Hashtravaganza t-shirt.  That was a plus.  With my rolled ankle and a busy, busy work week, I haven’t run since my marathon last Sunday.  Heck, I just thought today was a good idea.  I’d get to sleep in, and the drive was easy.  Nervous about the late start (7 AM), relief settled in when I walked out the door to find the town socked-in.  We’ve been socked-in all week. 

I’m not a big fan of Harding Truck Trail.  It’s 9+ miles up, up, up with little or no shade. Still though, it’s gorgeous.  I saw my friend Emmett and his friend start up the mountain before the rest of us.  That’s when I thought, “I’m outa here.”  I needed all the extra time I could get.  Then my friend Chris saw me take off and I presume thought the same thing.  He was by my side within seconds, and we ran the first five miles together.  I was glad for his company.  His conversation kept my mind off “this fresh hell,” called Harding Truck Trail. 

Actually, the morning was lovely.  Yes, the climb was hard.  But it was the good kind of hard.  The accomplishment kind of hard. Then when Chris turned around, I was on my own for a while, still climbing up.  The words that raced through my mind were, “Only insane people do this!”  And don’t they?  I mean if you do this, you have to admit you are insane.  And if you read this, and want to do this, you are insane as well. 

RD Jessica says a few words to the group:

Chris points out some interesting geological happenings:

Running above the clouds, it heats up some:

Continuing upwards after my company leaves, up ahead, another Harding Hustle trainer (a.k.a insane person):

Normally, my pack doesn’t hold enough fluids to run around 19 miles, especially mountain miles.  Call me stupid, because it was a stupid call, but I thought the cool weather at home would be my saving grace.  After 7 miles up, I knew that I was going to run low.  The downhill though, 9+ miles of downhill wouldn’t need much water. 

I saw Emmett and another runner running down from “Four Corners,” and they told me about a little bit of water that was waiting at the top.  Relieved to finally reach “Four Corners,” I chugged down the remaining water from a jug sitting in the shade.  (I was the last one up the mountain anyhow, no one else would need it after me.)  After a few pictures, I took in some calories and headed down for the trip back. 

I enjoyed some shade at first.  I also enjoyed the lovely flowers and a bounty of butterflies fluttering about.  Relieved that the bumble bees didn’t bother me, I still gave them a cautious eye. 

A cool breeze blew here and there.  I continued drinking when I needed to.  At about mile 11.5, all shade disappeared. 

I tried to hold off a little on the fluids.  But in the end, I decided it was better to drink up now than to pass out now, with water still on my back.  With 5 miles remaining, I was finally out of water.  I continued on running, anxious to get back to the truck where a couple gallons of water awaited me. 

With 3 miles remaining, I saw some hikers with their dog up a ways.  At 1.5 miles remaining, I ran up behind them.  As I passed, the woman (named Marilyn) commented to her brother (Michael) about all the lovely bird chirpings.  She said, “There must be a water source near by.”

To this, I held out my arms and jokingly said, “WHERE . . . ?“

That’s when Michael asked if I needed water.  With a hydration pack strapped to his back, he reached into another bag and handed me a fresh bottle of water.  Can you believe my luck!  I thanked them profusely and ran upward, the one uphill on the way back, drinking that water.  Not twenty-five feet away from the brother and sister hiking team, heat exhaustion, or perhaps the beginnings of dehydration hit.  And it hit like a brick wall.  I felt like I was going to fall to the ground.  I needed to lay down.  All I could think about was causing a spectacle.  I didn’t want to do that to the couple behind me.  So, I slowly lowered myself to the ground.  And I sat.  I had a smile on my face and assured Michael and Marilyn that I would be fine.  After a few minutes, I stood up to prove it.  And man!  I was gonna go down again, so lightheaded was I.  Instead, I leaned over holding my thighs, breathing hard.   I tried to walk onward.  But I couldn’t.  Again, I was back holding my thighs, feeling like I might pass out.  That’s when the two, very kind strangers decided they weren’t leaving.  “Lauren,” Marilyn said, “You’re going to stay with us the remainder of the way.” 

She handed me her walking sticks and we progressed onward.  I had to stop every few minutes and hold myself up so that I wouldn’t fall to the ground.  Michael handed me cold chocolates with orange gel filling.  I ate two of them.  Using the walking sticks, I finally gave them up because gripping the poles only made my hands numb.  Within about a half mile, I could see the parking lot.  I felt A LOT better.  Still, I remained hiking, chatting away with the two about local trails.  Thank God for Michael and Marilyn.  Without them, I would have surely lay down in the road, perhaps passing out.  Without their water, I would have not been able to make it back to the truck. 

It’s humbling to take the aid of strangers.  I hope that I can pay back another stranger some day.  Thank you Michael and Marilyn.  What a day.  Another lesson learned (again and again!).

Total miles run today: 18.77

Total elevation gain: 4,266’

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.