I Am So Weird

I remember as a child asking friends, “Do you think I’m weird?”  I so didn’t want to be “weird.”  Having grown up, I now KNOW that I’m weird, and it’s not so bad.  I don’t even care.  In fact it’s kind of fun.  People, my friends, sometimes look at me questioningly with an expression on their faces that says, “What the heck?” 

Even though, I can hide my weirdness and behave normally at any given moment, I’ve grown accustomed to being “weird.”  We all know it – I’m out of the closet, my friends and family know, my students know, the neighbors probably know.  It’s gotten to a point that I’ve forgotten all about being weird. (I sense that most runners are weird – just a hunch).   

And then this morning . . . I woke at 4AM, drank two cups of coffee, surfed the internet.  I made a Chia Fresca, packed, laced up my trail shoes.  Then I got in my truck and headed toward the mountains for a 15 mile run out of Trabuco Canyon.  I wanted to check on my water stashes. 

I drove nearly an hour under darkness, paid money to drive the toll road.  The sun had not yet risen when I reached the mouth of the canyon.  I found the gravel road particularly dark and desolate.  There’s usually headlights here and there when I drive it.  I wasn’t looking forward to the off road portion when suddenly, and I mean in an instant I decided I didn’t want to be alone today.  I could not bare loneliness.  I did not hesitate one bit, or put another thought into it as I did a three-point turn and drove back out of the canyon.  I took the toll toad home, and thought to myself, I AM SO WEIRD. 

Back at home, everyone in the house was still asleep as I changed into some sleeping clothes and went back to bed. 

This is my “running” story for today.

My husband said that I shouldn’t feel badly, that I should always go with my “gut” feeling.  There was a reason, he said, that I got that feeling.  He liked that I acted on it.

Who’s the weird one now?

Days Gone Past

Tuesday, my oldest son and I hopped on a bus and took it to Newport Beach.  He wanted to see the WWII bunker that I ran to on Monday.  Rather than hike (or run) the 10 mile round trip route to the bunker, where the parking is free, I decided we’d hike from the park’s main entrance.  This is why the bus: parking at the park’s entrance is $15.00.  The bus is $2, or $5 for a day pass.  Plus the bus is way fun.

We hiked up B.F.I. a three mile round trip.  My son added some initials to lengthen the trail’s name to a much longer name that is too profane to mention here.  We reached the bunker, hiked back and took the bus headed south.  We disembarked in Laguna Beach for lunch, then hiked the highway to the next bus stop home. 

By the time we reached home (5PM), I was so fatigued, I took a nap and did not run.  Therefore, the running streak was finished.  My fitness streak however (from Fitness Streakers on facebook) remained intact.  The rules to that group page are to run, walk, hike, bike or treadmill at least one mile a day. 

A two-day knee ache stayed with me Wednesday, but wanting to keep up the fitness streak, I pulled on a knee brace.  Then I went for a 1.17 mile run around the neighborhood. 

Suddenly Wednesday night I decided to call a friend from our boys’ music school.  It was then I found that our mutual friend had died in hospice.  I went to bed Wednesday night broken hearted.  Even though I felt so fortunate that our lives’ paths crossed, I was terribly sad.  I’m still sad.  And I’m still fortunate.  Tommy was a wonderful, eccentric, quirky guy.  He was a great musician, an unbelievably awesome musican.  He taught my son to be a great musician.   

I slept terribly Wednesday night, and I would have rather stayed in bed all of Thursday.  But I couldn’t do that to my family. 

I also didn’t want to run.  I really didn’t give a hoot about my fitness streak.  Deep down though, I knew that I had to run.  I didn’t think a run would do anything magical.  But I did know it would allow me to escape.  A run would allow me to forget and live only in the moment.  And that is just what I did for five miles in the coastal hills above Laguna Beach.  I ran.

R.I.P. Tommy Ryan

Rest in peace, Tommy Ryan.  What a great addition to the heavenly music above.  What a big loss to young musicians down below.  You will not be forgotten.

A Marina Run and a WWII Bunker

Monday, day two of my new running streak, I took a leisurely run at the marina.  Well, it wasn’t exactly “leisurely” because when I run flats, I try to pick up the speed.  I’m so accustomed to a slower pace due to the elevation gains I usually run, I must take advantage of the flats, so that I don’t train myself only to run slowly.  Still, my faster pace is rather slow.  Be that as it may, I ran faster than I usually do.  And that was fun.

I took a quick look at the daily fish count.  Look at all those fish, and three fishing boats were docking at the time, so their fish wasn’t even counted yet.  The café’s and restaurants were filled with tourists.  And there were smokers all about.  I assumed they were out-of-staters, because in California, smokers usually go back into the deepest darkest recesses to light up. 

Tuesday, day 3 of my new running streak, I went for a run and search.  A running friend told me where to find a WWII bunker off the trails in the coastal hills.  8:00 AM, I set out for a ten mile loop in search of this bunker. 

I began the loop in Newport Beach in the Laguna Wilderness, and ran a rolling truck trail down to the shore.  The weather was pleasantly cool.  For the first three miles, I didn’t even take a sip of the icy fluids strapped to my back.  I don’t even think I turned my hat around for the first three miles.  That’s how cool the weather was.  Lovely.

I had to climb a nasty trail, a steep truck trail, with paved portions.  Paved!   Also, not one single tree (aka. shade) lines the entire trail.  Stopping at the first location I figured to search for the bunker, I found nothing.  A bit disappointed, I thought to myself, “I have to take this trail again!!”  That trail is named B.F.I. appropriately named (Big F’ing Incline).  

Climbing B.F.I.

Still climbing B.F.I.

Before reaching the top however, I finally spotted it.  I noticed the cap first and ran on over to check out the bunker.  The cap was locked so there was no getting inside.  But I was able to crouch down and peer into it from a front opening.  I felt a bit sad exploring this historical remnant.  Mankind went through a terrible time during this period.  I even felt odd taking a picture of myself in front of the bunker.  I felt like I shouldn’t smile.  But I did. 

After my bunker find, I ran up another ridge then closed up this loop for 9.9 miles.  Ended up I drank all 64 fluid ounces of my Nuun dissolved ice water. 

The profile (Route:  No Name Ridge, No Dogs, B.F.I., El Moro Ridge, Missing Link, Fence Line, Bommer Ridge):

Loopish Out-and-Back

I have not been well, and ended my 9 day running streak on Monday.  I would have ended it Sunday if it were not for my oldest son.  He offered to run a mile with me on Monday, so off we went.  I could tell he was frustrated with my pace.  I could barely run.  If it wasn’t for my lovely son, my streak would have ended on day 8.

Today marked a starting over of my streak with day one.  There was a group run going out of Blue Jay for twenty-something miles into Trabuco Canyon.  I wanted some solitude today and decided to run elsewhere alone.  I chose the Candy Store loop, which is more an out-and-back than a loop (but it’s loopish, with loops along the way).  Today though, I decided to run it in the opposite direction.  This way, I would run the uphill first, and hit the downhill for the last ten or so miles.

Same route, different direction: 

The sun had already risen by the time my feet hit dirt.  Solitude I wanted, solitude I got.  I saw this furry creature on my way down the San Juan Loop.  But I didn’t see a single person.

San Juan Loop looked much different to me running it in the opposite direction:

The run out, that is up to Blue Jay, was beautiful, uneventful and difficult.  But it wasn’t as difficult as when I run it for the second half.  The weather was cool, the trails were empty.  I decided at one point to search out the water stash my friends have told me about.  Every time I look for it, I can’t find it.  Today, I looked twice.  The first time, no luck.  On my relook, I found the stash off a beaten path.  Camouflaged well, I lifted the debris to see just how much water there was.  There was lots – not only that, but there was a brown mouse that poked his head out and scrambled down the bottles toward me.  Well, I let out a yelp (I hate mice – sorry I just do), covered the stash back up and high-tailed it out of there. 

I ran a several miles without music.  And I stopped several times to snap pictures I haven’t taken in a long time.

A dry Chiquito Falls:

I ran UP the Viejo Tie for the first time ever.  The ground was soft with leaf litter, and portions were extremely steep.  But it was all doable.  I still had lots of energy.  By the time I reached San Juan Trail, I was ready for Blue Jay.  Two miles of uphill rocky single-track still remained. I took it running and finally ran into Blue Jay with an empty hydration pack. 

Feeling no dread whatsoever for the second half of my run (like I do when I run it reverse), I rushed to a water source and filled my pack to the brim.  Lastly I took out a Larabar for breakfast to enjoy as I ran back down San Juan Trail.

My water source:

I ran through my “two deserts” (mentioned in my last Candy Store Loop post) and found it extremely hot and dry, yet delightful.  The sandy dirt was quite loose to the point where I fell.  I wouldn’t normally call this a fall because I actually slipped.  Slipping and falling are two different actions.  But since I landed on my butt, well, I guess it was a fall.

I continued onward through the shady forests of Chiquito feeling good, feeling strong.  I picked up my speed as I ran down toward the Viejo Tie intersection when suddenly I tripped on a root hidden in the leaf litter.  I flew through the air, like a flying squirrel.  I mean FLEW.  I landed face down in a patch of poison oak on top of a bed of leaf litter about six inches thick.  Talk about a cushy fall.  The first thing that came to mind was, “Get up!  Don’t let the hydration pack leak.”  So, I jumped up, found just a few cuts and scratches on my legs and was on my way. (If you’re a new reader, you won’t know that so far, I’ve been immune to poison oak).

The weather heated up immensely.  Still, by the time I came near the secret water stash, I still had probably a pack 3/4 full.  And that whole mouse thing creeped me out so much that I decided not to stop and refill.

BIG MISTAKE.

I ran the next few miles, up and down, up and down (though mainly down) on HOT, exposed trail.  The sun drained me, but I still drank up, fearful that I would run out soon.  I began to feel nauseated and had to stop and cool off here and there in little sections of shade.  My legs felt weak, like they couldn’t hold me up.  I kept running, because I wanted to get this portion finished as quickly as possible.

And then I ran out of fluids.  With about 2 miles to go, I ran the flats and downhills, hiked the uphills.  When I finally turned a corner into some shade, I came upon two male hikers.  “Don’t go out there,” I said. 

One of the men said, “I know, we were just there.”  His face was red.  The other guy was laying down in the shade.  I ran past them a couple feet and then abruptly stopped.  I HAD TO cool down.  Bending over, I grabbed my knees and was still holding myself up when the two guys took off ahead of me. 

After cooling some, I took off running again.  When I caught up with the two hikers, they were resting in the shade again.  They asked advice on the route back, and I told them to take the San Juan Loop to the right – it’s the shadiest. 

I passed the hikers.  Soon enough, they were up gaining on me.  I could no longer run.  That’s when one of the guys yelled out, “Miss, did you know your arm is bleeding?”

Sure enough a stream of dried blood streaked down my arm.  The hikers didn’t seem too sure when I assured them that my arm was alright.

The hikers and I continued like this for about a mile – stopping and resting, then taking off as long as we could.  The hiker about my age would just plop down in the shade and lay there.  I usually took off first because I HAD TO GET TO MY TRUCK FOR WATER. 

Eventually, I could only hold myself up when hiking or running.  Standing still I had a problem.  When I stopped in shade to cool off, I had to grasp a tree branch so that I wouldn’t fall.  I felt that I could not lay down for fear that I wouldn’t be able to get up.  For the first time in a long time, I worried about my well-being.  The only thing that stopped me from calling for help was the fact that I was only about a mile from the parking lot.  I decided to wait it out and see how I progressed before calling aid.  I paid close attention to my body and worked and worked at cooling it down.  At one point I oddly took off my hat.  Thankfully, I still had my wits about me to put it back on.  My breathing was rapid.  And I was hot, OH SO HOT.  But I still could think logically. 

We were was SO, SO CLOSE to the parking lot when the two hikers plopped down in the shade again.  Some hikers on the boulders above noticed us and waved.  That’s when I felt safe leaving the hikers behind and making the march back to the truck.

That march was miserable.  I stopped quite frequently, in fact, in every bit of shade.  Eventually, I had to sit in the shade.  Then my saving grace arrived.  On several occasions, it seemed like just as I sat, a strong cool breeze came along to cool me off.  That breeze gave me just enough strength to walk another twenty feet or so.  I certainly suffered from heat exhaustion.  The breezes cooled me of enough that I worried less over the possibility of heat stroke. 

I couldn’t believe that I let a little mouse stop me from getting more water some miles back.  That will NOT happen again.  I hiked those last 100 yards painstakingly slow.  Then finally!  I caught a glimpse of the parking lot curb.  I had made it.  I had my pack off before I even reached my truck.  My key in the door, I grabbed out a jug of water ASAP.  Then I turned on the truck and put the air conditioning on full blast.  Feeling too weak to drive immediately, I took swigs of the water.  I poured some over my head too.  When the salt dripped down into my eyes, I used some of that precious water to wash my face too. 

Well, I love an adventure, that’s for sure.  But dang it!  How many times do I have to learn the same lesson?  Refill at EVERY chance, even if I don’t think I need it.  This is my promise on day one of my running streak.

Elevation Profile (The route, San Juan Loop, Chiquito, Viejo Tie, San Juan Trail, Blue Jay Campground, San Juan Trail, Old San Juan Trail, San Juan Trail, Chiquito, San Juan Loop). 

It’s Back!

I got my freedom back!  Now I can run anywhere I want to.  My husband fixed my garmin!  Yes, he FIXED it.  He’s talented at repairing gadgets, toys, furniture, appliances, you name it.  He doesn’t think he is, BUT I know he’s a fixer.  When something breaks, I never fret too much because hubby can probably fix it.  (He doesn’t know it yet, but he’s going to fix my dead computer).

All I said was this:  “Honey Will you open it up and look?  If you destroy the garmin, it won’t matter because it’s already dead.”

And thus began the process of getting my Garmin Forerunner 305 back.

He pried it apart with a sharp wood chisel and immediately saw the problem.  On the screen side of the case just under the Forerunner name are 8 contact “fingers” that press against the battery side contacts when the case is closed.  One of those copper “fingers” was broken. 

This is what he did:

1. Cleaned the area around the contact where the “finger” was.

2. Took a small piece of phone wire from inside an old wall jack.  He stripped both ends 1/8”

3. He flattened the wire and wrapped it around a nail, giving the wire a coil so it had the ability to fit into the open corner of the case when closed. 

4. After slipping the wire off the nail, hubby soldered one end of the contact where the finger was.

5. Then he soldered the other end to the corresponding contact on the battery side of the case.  That way, the two parts of the case were like an open clam shall, connected by the wire.

6.  Then he closed up the case, careful to avoid pinching the wire. 

7.  At last, he pushed the power button.  AND IT WORKED!!  AND IT HAS CONTINUED TO WORK.

8.  The last step was to glue it back together.  He tried silicon and strapped bands around the garmin until it dried.  But it came apart easily after that.  So he used super glue, and it held.

There!  Did that make sense?   I could have never done it.  But my talented husband was able to bring back one of the most important objects in my life, the garmin. 

To keep my streak alive, I strapped on the garmin and went for a short run around the neighborhood.  I turned a corner whenever I felt like it, knowing my garmin would measure the distance.  I completed my 8th day of streaking with a 1.7 mile run.