I wandered about on the trails on Memorial Day. Not a huge wander, but enough to work up a good sweat. I hiked most of the Trip to Top of the World in Laguna Beach, and I thought some about my plan -- my plan to get back into shape. My plan is to get out and move every day, even if it’s for a short distance. I don’t have to go big. I don’t need to go big. Just getting out there is big.
6.33 miles, Wood Canyon-Cholla Trail-West Ridge-Top of the Word-and back.
I am terribly out of shape. Now, I say that cautiously because I realize that there are many people who cannot walk a mile (but on the other hand, many can walk hundreds of miles). I can walk a mile, plus some. I can also run a mile, plus some, but that is mainly because I am stupid – because so out of shape am I, that I would attempt to run say ten miles, then injure myself, or fall and break a leg or much worse.
Let me tell you first off, that the gym will never get me fit. I have been visiting the gym all the while that I have grown so terribly out of shape. The reason the gym will not get me into shape is because I tend to use the gym as a time of relaxation. I spend an hour on the elliptical relaxing – on the stationary bike relaxing – I do so reading novels, binge watching shows on Netflix.
So, all I really know now about my fitness is that I am over weight, and I am not strong. I feel weaker than I ever remember. But now that I have some time off for the summer (hours cut in half!), I have time to get moving, time to gain back some of that strength. This is something that I desire tremendously.
Alas, accomplishing such a goal is not as easy as saying it. This means that I need to get outside and move. And when in the past, a hundred wild horses couldn’t stop me from doing that, now, well, I’d much rather sleep.
And, so now begins my summer journey of getting back into shape. And it almost didn’t happen this particular holiday weekend, because I nearly opted for a nap instead. It was Sunday afternoon that I finally decided to step outside and move. The only way I could get myself to do it, was to promise myself not to try and run. This would be a nice, leisurely hike, umm, I mean walk (well, actually more like powerwalk) in and about my lovely seaside town which I often so quickly flee from for mountainous terrain.
I opted for a loop, one that dumped me out on Monarch Beach, our most northern beach. From there, I took the sand along Salt Creek Beach and then Dana Strands. And then in the cool ocean breeze, I took the many agonizing flights of steps back up to town where I hoped onto the Headlands Trail which is a short-cut back into downtown (or the Lantern District, as it is named). The stairs were terribly difficult, and I needed to stop and rest one or two times. Around that time, I glanced down at my garmin and noticed that I was running about a half hour later than I had planned, and that I far past what I thought would be about 4.5 miles total. In all, this loop was 8 miles, which took me by surprise, especially odd because this is not a new loop, I’ve done it many times before.
The trip:
I noticed these beautiful purple flowers (which I see often in the wild in the coastal hills) on my way to the trail that leads down to Monarch Beach:
The tunnel beneath Highway One (the little bus is taking tourists back to their hotel):
I didn’t know that I had a day off from class last Thursday. The evening I had already secured a substitute so that I could attend my sons’ award ceremony, but I had planned to work during the day. My students though kept telling me that there were no classes on Thursday because it was the last day before final exams. Finally, I decided to look up the official school calendar. Sure enough, no class.
7.31 miles, 1,300’ elevation gained.
Oh, woe is me! When will I have the time and strength to wander again? This past Sunday, even in my lagging and out-of-shape condition, I did finally make it out to the wilderness to wander. Recently, I learned that Trabuco Creek Road had finally re-opened, so being so long away from my friend Cussin’ Jim, I made the trip out for a late morning hike. No running involved. I didn’t want to kill myself.
To begin, I didn’t arrive to the Holy Jim lot until about 10:30, and there were no parking spaces open. That’s expected on a beautiful warm spring weekend. I found a spot to squeeze my truck in about a quarter mile outside of the Holy Jim Lot, just past the volunteer fire department. There, I parked in between two other trucks, one of the owners still packing his gear for a fishing trip along Trabuco Creek, not twenty feet from our automobiles.
I cannot tell you just how many hikers I came upon along the road to the trailhead, and also along Holy Jim for a bit. The creeks were still flowing strong, even in many places that I have not seen water in many years. There were mini-falls over boulders, and creeks to cross even across roads. 
Spring flowers littered the landscape, and after about mile two, Lupin was in full purple bloom. Even though I always hope that it could, the camera can never illustrate the spring flowers full beauty. But it’s close enough to snap a shot anyway, again and again.
I sure do love Holy Jim. But it is not a hike for the weak, and I’m teetering on that. There are so many beautiful scenes – ridges from afar, orange rock trail walls, flowers and snakes (I saw a rattler!), and every so often, glorious tunnels of shade through small groves of trees. I wasn’t quite sure just how far I’d make it up the trail. And since the heat was strong, I really could have turned back at any time. But I endured to a little over mile four, to a location where I took a seat and looked out over these Santa Ana Mountains.
Just before my turnaround point, about a half mile or so, I decided to unplug the music. I thought that the silence would suit me better at that point. I was hot, and I was tired. And the silence definitely did me better. Amazing how many sounds there are in the silence. Insects flying by my ears sounded like cars whizzing by on a tiny highway. The breeze blowing through the trees sounded just like the gentle ocean waves crashing onshore about quarter mile from my house. And as I got further down the mountain, I the stream broke through the silence. It was fierce and loud, kind of like an angry wind storm blowing through the trees. I didn’t miss the music piped in from my ipod one bit.
Miles: 8
Elevation gained: 1,964’
Teaching at three schools, I had three spring breaks this year. Originally, I thought it would have been better if they all coincided. That way I would have had a full week completely off from work. My husband all along though, said, “It’s better this way.” I heard this so often from him that I grew completely annoyed and finally blurted out, “No it’s not better this way.” But turns out, it was better this way, but I’m just too stubborn to admit that out loud.
It was “better this way,” mainly because during my first week of spring break, after running with a sore throat on that Monday, I rapidly grew more ill. I ended up spending all of my off time during that spring break in bed. And I had big plans too -- with my entire mornings and afternoons off from Monday through Thursday . . . Big disappointment. So, I slept during the day, pretty much all day, then drank down some ghastly tasting medicine and drove off to my evening classes during my first spring break. Oh! All that I missed -- running along mountain trails covered in spring flowers, boosting my mileage up from the month prior . . .
Alas, that was not the case. And as usual with me, with sickness, came depression. I hate being sick. HATE. IT. I don’t even try and fight the depression. I wallow.
That week came and went, and my first spring break was over. I got to the gym a couple of times during the next two weeks. And I also learned some heartfelt news, that a friend of mine, one who played a big part in my youth, was killed in a motorcycle accident not too long after the last time we spoke, THIRTY ONE YEARS AGO. I inadvertently learned of this the day before Old Goat 50.
So, I went off into the mountains, the weekend before my next spring break, with my friend on my mind, and pitched a single man tent in the Lower Blue Jay Campgrounds for a race that I coordinate the volunteers. The race, as I mentioned above, was Old Goat 50, a race I attempted some years back, but was pulled at mile 41. It was good to get off to the mountains by myself. Well, I wasn’t totally by myself, there’s lots of people camping out the night before -- the timing crew, net control, and some of the drivers. But overall, I was alone, and had an oddly solid sound sleep, like I rarely have, camped out there in the cold. Yes, it’s still cold out here in some parts, especially in the mountains, and especially in the evenings and mornings. But I was warm and cozy in my little tent, air mattress and thick sleeping bag.
Old Goat weekend was rejuvenating. I got back to journal writing. I read a novel by lantern light. I talked to old friends. I met new friends. And I worked with a fantastic bunch of people who made the race a huge success despite some major no-shows (aid station workers, drivers and sweeps among the no-shows).
Anyway, that event got me out of my funk just in time for my second spring break. That spring break gave me Tuesday and Thursday evenings off. But my illness had returned, just slightly, and I spent much of that extra time relaxing instead of wandering. I think I probably made it to the gym a couple 
of times, not totally sure, and I’m much too lazy right now to check my records. Depression though had subsided, and that’s definitely a good thing. I’m not a good sick person (because I get depressed), and I’m not a good depressed person (because I don’t care about anything, else I care too much about everything).
I ended that second spring break with a hike to Chiquito Falls with a friend from way back. We met at Hell’s Kitchen, a biker joint along Ortega Highway, then drove into Blue Jay for a hike along Old San Juan, then San Juan. Being the tour guide, I decided to take The Viejo Tie, not remembering that I was added a significant amount to this “small” hike. The air was wet, and even raining at times. And I didn’t take many pictures (though beautiful it was), because we spent most of the time chatting like not a day had passed since we had last talked in person (which was about ten years ago). So, the land was lush beyond belief. By the time we reached the falls, we were both drenched. The falls amazed us both with the amount of water flowing over those rocks. There’s no snow melt in these mountains. There’s been no heavy rains recently. Must just be coming from the saturated soil. Astounding. (8.37 miles total)
Standing at the top of Chiquito Falls:
I ended the second spring week, with an attempted run down to the harbor. By attempted, I mean, I thought that I’d go for a local run. But as soon as I got out the door, I felt so open and vulnerable, because running is more a personal thing with me, and I’m not used to being out in front of everyone, that I decided to just get out there and wander. Yes, I know, that people aren’t necessarily looking at me when I run through the city. But still, I felt so open and susceptible -- I just didn’t have the heart to run. So, I plugged in my earbuds and headed off to Doheny Beach. From there I walked out to the jetty and snapped some photos of the regular activity out there, fishermen (& women I’m sure), surfers, and walkers. Afterwards, I headed off to the marina, which even before tourist season officially opens, there was plenty of people milling about. There were dozens of folks disembarking off of a commuter boat from Catalina Island. And there were dozens more dining in the waterfront restaurants throughout.
View of surfers from the jetty:
A Great Blue Heron atop the bait shop on the jetty:
I walked at a quick pace, and really didn’t mind walking one bit. I recalled fondly, that this was the same route I used to walk my babies in strollers many years ago. There were single strollers, double strollers, sometimes scooters, sometimes bikes. Now, sadly, my oldest pretty much acts like he can’t stand me. And my middle son, though he still likes me, doesn’t recall as fondly as I do all those walks down by the harbor. Fortunately, my little guy (who is only 12 years old), still has that child within, and will even go down there with me (but not on this particular day), and recalls many happy memories down at the marina. I got in a little over 3.5 miles.
During my final spring break (which is this week), I got Monday and Wednesday evenings off, as well as, all day Friday. I can’t even recall what I did with that spare time -- still in a funk. I am coming to realize that I do best with a tightly structured life. None of this willy-nilly, this week has different days off than the next. I recall working this week, as I really do enjoy teaching and all of my students. But I pretty much don’t recall anything after that, except for Wednesday afternoon (that would be the day before yesterday). I had just completely had it with my laziness. So, after laying about on the couch for a couple of hours, I headed out the door and drove off to the closest trails, which are referred to as the Las Ramblas trails. This is the trail system that overlooks San Clemente, Dana Point and San Juan Capistrano. I didn’t get out until 4pm. It was warm, and it was windy. But it was oh so beautiful, the hills overpowered with yellow daisies and yellow mustard plants. I got in four miles that day. And thank God for all those lovely flowers, otherwise my time would have miserable. I feel like I can barely run lately.
There is the story of my three spring breaks. Next week, I’m back to a busy, structured scheduled. I’m looking forward to it.
The Flowers off of Las Ramblas:
