Cool Morning Trail Run

Again I woke through the night. At 3:30, I thought, maybe I should just get up. Nah. 5:00 AM, I thought the same, and again at 5:30. When my cell phone alarm finally rang at 6:00, I jumped up, “What the heck! What’s today? What am I supposed to do?” And then I remembered, today’s a stress-free morning – I’m going for a nice and easy trail run. Sunday’s the new member run for my group, and from experience have found the new member runs to be pretty stress-free. (Notice my STRESS on stress-free – I’m trying to tone it down in my life right now : ))

After a couple cups of coffee, I set out beneath big, gray cloudy skies. Rain drizzled as I made my way toward the freeway – just enough for one wiper’s worth. Let me tell you the relief I felt was great, knowing that I would not run this morning in the heat.

I met Tom at the Quail Hill Trail Head, and we took off running on a well groomed almost sandy path for a refreshing run in the Irvine foothills. It seemed like ages since we’ve run together, ages since I’ve run Quail Hill.

We began this morning’s run on an incline, nothing terrible, but still, it’s always tough for me to START running uphill. I really like about 3 miles of flat running to begin (downhill is nice too). One very nice thing about beginning on an uphill is that, if it’s an out-and-back like today, you know you’re gonna end on a downhill. I like that!

About a third of the way in, we met fellow club runners, Sheila and Dave, making their way in the opposite direction (two runs were posted for this morning). We stopped and chatted for a bit. We were all smiles – who wouldn’t be with this nice cool weather, STRESS-FREE run?

Obviously, I enjoyed my run this morning. With us both nursing injuries, I think we did pretty good (hopefully, Tom will say the same). Soon after, I was thinking about, planning bigger, harder runs, when I told myself – take a break, remember? You’re cutting back. Well, at least for October.

Miles joyfully logged this morning: 5.20

"Don't Forget to Slow Down in Life."

As I drove my two oldest boys to school this morning, I smiled wide and said, “I’m SO HAPPY.”

“Why?” They asked.

“Because I’m going running.”

“So?”

“TRAIL RUNNING.”

“Oh,” my oldest said with a look that seemed to say, I still don’t get it.

I haven’t seen Top of the World in weeks. Driving to Canyon Vistas Park, I felt giddy. The sky was blue with white wispy clouds. I knew it was going to be hot, but who cared? I didn’t.

I buckled my running belt (phone, pepper spray, gum, etc.) and strapped on my camelback with more than enough water to take me to the top and back (see “Quickest Route to Top of the World” 9/10/09). Then I put those headphones on and ran down Canyon Vistas Park into Aliso / Wood Canyons Wilderness Park, feeling a little anxious about running up Cholla. “Don’t think about it,” I told myself. “You know you can do it.”

I couldn’t have cared less how hard it was running up Cholla. Yup, it was hard, but it was GREAT. Wearing a cotton t-shirt so I’d really get the full affect of the climb’s difficulty, I was drenched in sweat by the time I reached Westridge. One really nice thing about Cholla is that it twists and turns. That makes it difficult to concentrate on the top, being that I can’t see it. The end comes out of nowhere. I like that. I look to the ground and put one foot in front of the other. The knowledge that I’ve done it before, plus the fact that I know that Cholla trail is not very long, helps.

Hitting Westridge was a relief to say the least. Ahead of me, a trail of rolling hills swept off into the distance, with Top of the World looking, oh . . . so . . . far . . . away. Westridge has two really difficult spots: 1) just before reaching Mathis, the climb is quite steep on sandy-dirt, and 2) when almost to the top, there’s another longer, sandy, but with some nice flat rock mixed in to nearly finish it off.

I picked up my speed to run to the edge where I eagerly looked over. The Pacific Ocean was a nice dark blue today. A few cyclists rested at the benches there, as hikers who parked at the top, made their way down Westridge with walking sticks. I ran down into the park, and thought about the wall post from a new Facebook friend, Ileana G. (whom I met at the Writer’s Conference). She wrote, “Hello wonderful people! Don’t forget to slow down in life . . .”

For the first time, in who knows how many times I’ve run to the Top of the World, I took a stroll through that park. I knew about the tennis courts. But I didn’t know there were six of them! There’s also a finely manicured, full-size baseball field back there. And metal sculptures of life-size whales diving into the grass (with just their rear fins emerged) hid behind the courts. This I never knew! I walked beneath the arbors that I didn’t know existed either, when I reached the final surprise: a basketball half court.

After fully discovering the park, I ran back to the trail to the sign that warned that I was entering mountain lion territory. I recalled my earlier paranoia over mountain lions, overcoming that and devising (thru research) a game plan should we ever meet (older blogs found on my MySpace page).

I joyfully, yet carefully, ran up and down Westridge. I was having so much fun, that I toyed with the idea of heading down Mathis for a longer route home. I fought against that urge. Don’t ruin a good thing, I told myself. Just do these few miles – remember you’re taking it easy for a while.

Yes, I’m taking it easy. : ) I finished off Westridge, then ran back down Cholla, past three cyclists struggling up that thing. Then back through the park, I ran to the car where I stretched and finished off my water.

I got lost driving home (again), still looking for that on-ramp to the toll road. : )

5.9 glorious miles logged today, my first run for October.

One MORE for the Road

I planned to stay off the trails, that is big climbing trails until I got this nerve/toe (?) problem figured out, because I suspected that it was the steep climbs that caused the injury.  The good news is:  I ran on roads today and when I returned, I took off my shoes and OUCH.  Toe pain : )

I guess that means that I can return to the trails.  (Great logic, eh?)

Anyway, it is true, today I hit the road one more time.   And it was beneath gorgeous blue skies that carried with it warm winds.  Those winds blew up against my baby jogger, creating a parachute working against me.  Needless to say, the run was tough -- but tough is good.  Feels good to work really hard. And baby, well, he's no baby anymore.  My four-year-old has grown since I last pushed him on the run.  He was a heavy load.

I put up a good sweat today and loved every minute of it.  Even though I had to use my husband's ipod (because mine, since the crash, has only the same three cd's I've been listening to for the last few runs and workouts -- and I just can't take it anymore).  Regardless, he's got some good music on there.  I took it off "shuffle" and handpicked some good running tunes.  

I didn't much pay attention to my surroundings.  Just thinking, thinking, thinking, strategizing about my writing, what I'm gonna write, how I'm gonna market it.  Baby screamed in delight as usual at all the squirrels that scurried about on the island. And even things a simple as a pigeon brought him joy!  Remember the days?  

I do.  I get them once in a blue moon.

Using my inner-gps, I gauged what I thought might be 5 miles.  At home I measured and learned, miles logged this morning:  6.23

One for the Road

Well, I'm back, after a weekend of debauchery (nah, just kidding, I was just at a writer's conference), and I've been aching, I mean aching to run. Actually, I hadn't planned on a run this evening, but with a new teaching assignment and having to learn the ropes this week, today was the day.

I was a little afraid, 1) because of the heat, and 2) it's the evening!  I usually can't run after a busy day.  Amazingly, even with a warm breeze, and blaring sun, and pavement beneath my feet (boy do I miss the trail), I had great fun.

Sunglasses, and ipod with the same three cd's loaded since my computer crash, I ran down the highway, up and over the pedestrian bridge where I squeezed my way through two guys stretched out smoking pot. And then I made my way, against my own advice, to the campground. I thought it might be too hot there, too smokey. Yes, it was hot, but smoky, not -- instead lovely dinner smells on the bbq.

And then I did my usual thing, ran up to the jetty, longboarders to my left simply sitting in the still waters, waiting for that wave. Egrets stalked the grounds by the fisherman who threw their lines out at the rocks, and across the marina waters, hundreds of pelicans simply sat at the filling dock, like they were sleeping or something (I couldn't tell).  All the while, I didn't stress about anything -- I just let my mind glide along with my feet.

Anyway, thru the wharf, crowded restaurants, and those lovely water fountains for refreshment along the way, I ran onto the island. I powered up that bridge to it, feeling no pain, just nice easy runnin'. Yes, I had one of those easy runs today. And when I arrived at the cliffs, where waves rather gently made their way in, the skies were dark, stars twinkled in the moonlight.

Can it get any better than that?

The night was still as I headed back, golden lights reflecting off the marina waters. Though still, the air was cool. And even though my cotton t-shirt weighed about five pounds about now (drenched with sweat), I powered up the big hill home, delighted that I could make this one for the road.

Miles logged this evening: 9.13

"Crack Baby Crack, Show me You're Real."

I can't even begin to tell you, nor do I think I will.  Nothing personal.  Let's just say at the moment:  Tough times = all the more reason to run!

A couple of quotes come to mind.   First from the only Dickens book that I've read (Tale of Two Cities):

"IT WAS the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair . . . " "

Sure, I'm not facing the French Revolution.  But I can relate . . . yup, maybe we can all can relate.

And then from The Old Testament: Ecclesiastes
"To every thing there is a season, and time to every purpose under the heaven:A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance . . . "

And so there have you, my feelings, someone else's elegant words . . . as usual.   

So, what does this have to do with running, specifically trail running? As with life, when I run that tough hill, or long stretch, I can't look far ahead, I have to take the good with the bad.  And though that hill may be tough, enduring it is the real award.  I can't focus on the difficulty. Instead, I take in stride (column straight, kicking out from the back) acknowledging that this is one of the tough parts, plant one foot in front of the other and just keep on moving. (If only I could do that in real life!)  If I start to look too far ahead in my runs, keeping my eyes glued to the top of that hill, well, then, another quote comes to mind:

"Crack Baby Crack. Show me you're real. Smack, Baby Smack, is that all that you Feel?" (David Bowie, "Cracked Actor" from Aladdin Sane -- get it?  Sounds like A Lad Insane : )

That's precisely what happens if I don't stay in the immediate moment when I run -- Crack Baby Crack.  And that's precisely when I began to falter on my last race.  It's when I saw those front runners heading back up that long hill, and I began to fret about that hill probably two miles before I even got there.

STAY IN THE MOMENT AND ACCEPT WHAT IT IS.  That's what trail running has taught me more than the above quotes.  I don't always remember what I've learned.  But heck . . . it's a start.

So, even in the best of times, or the worst of times, and during every other season and purpose under heaven, I can stop that CRACK. I'll show you I'm real -- one foot in front of the other, I'm movin'. It's just life. And with life, at least I got in a run. Yes, I got to run, be it against those warm Santa Ana, westerly blowin', hot winds . . . I got in a fast (for me) relatively flat run. : ) And it was lovely,and it was forgetful, because I thought about nothing.  Nothing at all.

Miles logged this warm, warm morning: 6.0

Take a Break?

"My brain hurt like a warehouse, it had no room to spare
I had to cram so many things to store everything in there."

David Bowie, "Five Years",

Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars

My note regarding the above quote: Best when said screaming, with hands pressed to head, like Edvard Munch's painting, "The Scream."

No one thought when I said I was gonna "take a break" that it meant I wasn't gonna run? Did they? : )

What I really meant was that I was gonna tone it down -- less intense runs, less weekly mileage, and a short break from the hills. That's what I really meant. : )

So, I ran 9.23 lovely, flat miles today, beneath hot sunny skies. They began laboriously, but ended joyfully. I ran along the river (nearly dry on a bike path), ran along sycamore creek trail (an exercise trail with no creek in sight, where I jumped the small hurdles twice), then made my way over to the socked-in marina, complete with cool breezes and ample water fountains.

Really grateful for the time to run. Because later today would not be so good -- I crashed my notebook computer, which is an actual extension of my body. My dog is sick, she's an old gal that I love so much. And an ink pen leaked in my purse, which isn't terrible, but it just added to it all.

What a time . . . what a time.

Heartbreak at Heartbreak Ridge Half Marathon

With the pain in my wrist acting up again, and these dang toe problems I decided to take it somewhat easy this week as far as running goes. Eleven miles on Tuesday, then it was just fun non-running workouts for the other days. Thursday, I swam. After 3,000 yards, I felt I could do more, but dried myself off nonetheless, because I've got this Writer's Conference looming ahead and lots of chores at home.

And then the wrist pain attacked without mercy. I'm referring to the injury from Santiago Truck Trail (Slam Dancin' with the Trail) and then the re-injury at Bulldog 25k. After crawling in the mudrun last week, the swimming really did my wrist in. Thursday I slept restlessly all night, waking in pain constantly.

Friday, I took the day off and immobilized my wrist. To bed by ten I had another weird, restless night of sleep, I figured that Saturday's half marathon, though a "trail" run would be relatively easy. Besides that -- I took it easy this week.

I had a long drawn-out drama dream the night before this race, about me trying to convince some adult children to attend the 4th or 5th wedding of their drunkard father. He was really in love this time and was gonna change his life. One daughter was in tears as I tried to convince her to sing at the wedding. Before I knew it, I too was bawling over the phone re: her pain. After finally convincing all the children to attend, I guzzled champagne like water, and searched a department store for an open bathroom (I couldn't find any!). Then I woke. The clock read: 7:05 AM. My half marathon started in 55 minutes, and if I didn't jump up now, drive 80 miles an hour on an empty tank, I wasn't gonna make the start line in time!!! What a morning : ( I barely had time to brush my teeth, but I made the start line with minutes to spare. Amazingly, I got a parking space right up front.

They were out of t-shirts (no big deal, I have too many anyway), and the bathroom lines were empty by now too -- as everyone was already lined up to run. I took off comfortably under cloudy skies, the first mile over asphalt complete in 0:9:40. I planned to keep that pace, maybe pick it up some. I really hoped that we'd hit the trail soon, which we did, and I was at ease. : ) I made mile 2 by 0:20:00. My pace was falling, though we were running on a slight incline.

When the tougher climb began, I ran it, not feeling too uncomfortable. In fact, I felt good. Mile three was a ten minute pace. I wanted to pick it up, hoping for more of an average of a nine something pace for the race. At about mile 4 or so, I began a fun descent on that wide dirt fire road. Thing was, the sun came out, and it came out in vengeance. Still, I felt pretty good on this out-and-back half marathon (I really don't enjoy out-and-backs, that is: run to the halfway point, then turn around and run back the same way).

At about mile 5.5 the front runners were passing us on their way back, and I realized that I had been running down hill for quite some time -- too long, in fact. I began to fret about the turnaround, knowing that I'd have to run back up this thing in the searing heat that was now weighing me down.

Just make it to the turnaround, I told myself. JUST MAKE THE TURNAROUND. Worry about the rest later. I was not in a good state of mind though this morning. Having rushed out, and having to deal with these injuries, not to mention the negative self-talk over my persistent procrastination (in general for everything, but in particular, over the writer's conference).

Well, the turnaround came much, much later than I felt it should. Already drenched in sweat, I began to resent the cute little sayings on those Mile Markers. Things like: "The Goal is Pain" -- It is so NOT the goal. It was so not the goal, that at the turnaround I downed three ibuprofens to subside my toe pain.

I don't think I have the energy to relay just how defeated I felt coming into mile eight. One guy ran by and said, "After mile 9, it's uphill for a mile, then all down hill from there." I smiled (because that's how I am, try to make nice) and made some small talk. But I thought, "what the hell is he talking about, we're running uphill right now!" At a bend, I chuckled at the Marine who said, "Just a little hill up ahead, you can do it!"

Little hill my ***.

They were really little hills compared to what I've conquered in the past. But for some reason this morning, I got beat -- completely mentally defeated. I felt like I couldn't take another step. And so I began walking the hills, as did most around me. I ran as fast as I could on the flat portions, which wasn't very fast at all. And I began to think to myself, "just walk the next 4 miles. Or maybe, just quit."

Upon reaching the high point (around mile 10) I felt relief running down hill. It was crucial though I did not fall, so I kept a keen eye on the ground. One more hit to this wrist, I'm gonna end up in the E.R.!

I don't think I could have smiled at this point if I tried. Even on the downhill, I felt I couldn't run another step. And then when we finally leveled off, I did something I thought I'd never do on the flat portion of a race -- I walked. I wanted to quit. I wanted to just walk away from the group and pretend I never started this race. I was SPENT, and doubted that I'd ever run again. I wondered, "What the hell am I doing? Could I be any bigger of a loser." (I'm sorry, but that's really how I felt, utterly and completely defeated.)

And I continued walking as fast as I could, one ambulance passing, then another up a ways loading up another runner. Marines stood out on their balconies watching us come in, and I still walked, feeling ashamed, my eyes to the ground. I mean come on -- 13.1 miles on a trail race with not even 2,000 feet of elevation gain. I can do that -- can't I?

Not today.

Then I remembered a marine yelling out, "just one more bridge to go!" I didn't recall any bridges on this race, but up ahead, I saw a bridge, and so told myself, "when you hit that bridge RUN."

I ran over that bridge, and after a turn in the now paved road, I could see the finish line balloons not too far off. I saw one female racer cut through the parking lot, shortening her run to those balloons. She must have felt like I felt -- SPENT, out of gas.

I finally crossed that finish line at 2:25:55 with the sad, sad feeling that I was finished running for good. I was reminded of Forrest in Forrest Gump when he just stopped running because he simply didn't feel like running anymore.

After crossing the finish line, I grabbed 2 waters, walked straight to the car for a quick stretch. Before leaving the marine base, I filled up the car with much less expensive gasoline than we civilians usually pay, and I drove home.

I wept at home relaying the race story to my husband. I told him that I thought I was done running. That I had been mentally beaten, to which he responded "you're no quitter . . . you just need a break."

That I do.

I guess I have made my decision. No marathon for October, and as I cut back my miles I will finally make it to the doctor for x-rays on my foot and wrist.

And that is the story of my heartbreak at Heartbreak Ridge. Who knew that the title of this race would be so apropos.

Final Standings:

I placed 32 out of 47 women ages 40 to 44.

Overall I placed 781 out of 1,079 civilians.

Solo Run in Aliso and Wood Canyons

After dropping our sons off at school, I took off for my weekly posted run in Aliso / Wood Canyons, this time solo. While I miss the company and the encouragement of the group run, solitude is nice too. I can appreciate both. That's one of the nice things of youth finally being behind you -- it's easier to recognize the benefits in both sides of the coin. And it's easier to "make due" with whatcha got.

So, this morning, I got me a solo, beneath gorgeous blue skies, enormous puffy white clouds, long hilly run. Earphones plugged in, I thought to myself, now's a good time to work through that missing chapter from my novel that I need to write ASAP, else it never get written. But it's a disturbing chapter, and after working through it only a few minutes, my heart pained with sadness, and I decided that my brain couldn't dwell in the darkness on this beautiful trail run. (Though I did work it out enough to know where it was headed and finally wrote the chapter when I got home from work tonight).

The sun shined brightly and hot, as I expected at 8:30 in the morning. Those puffy clouds though, provided enough shade to comfort me, and an onshore breeze added even more delight to this morning's run. While still on Aliso Creek Trail, a large deer, with two stubby velvet antlers on each side, trotted down the path ahead of me. I was amazed -- first by it's size, and secondly by its lack of concern by my presence. Then this gorgeous creature turned into the brush and disappeared towards the creek.

There were bunnies out and about, hawks flying overhead, and black beetles robotically making their way across the trail. And there were lots of tracks -- deer tracks, coyote and bobcat, plus another, large birdlike track, that I haven't identified -- perhaps quail (because I see them often here), but these tracks seem a little big from what I figure Quails would make.

ANYWAY, I ran up Mathis this morning. It's been a long time, and I don't believe that the run up that steep, exposed climb has gotten any easier. But what a delight to do it! My mind didn't wander towards finances, or district budget cuts, or chapters that need to be written, running up that thing. No, I just thought about one foot in front of the other, and not stopping. Do not stop running. Do not stop!

From Mathis, I hit Westridge, which gives some relief at first with a minor down hill, possibly an 1/8th mile, probably less. Then it's uphill on rocky, mixed in with sandy dirt to the Top of the World.

Westridge on the way down was a delight with that ocean breeze and rolling hills. I didn't turn off on Mathis, but continued straight on until Rockit (with a slight delay to fix my camelback, which somehow managed to get air in it). I focused hard on Rockit, so as not to fall in a desolate area where I usually see no one. Then all of a sudden, a female cyclist emerged out of nowhere, spooking us both. We smiled, kinda chuckled.

At the bottom, I turned off onto that enchanted Coyote Run, thankful for the occassional breeze, and plentiful shade above the creek here and there. Upon reaching Mathis, my skin crusted with salt, I joyfully made my way back to Wood Canyon and ran on in all the way to the ranger station, beat, but not beaten.

Lovely run.

Miles logged this morning: 11.27

SBSD Mudrun (What am I thinking??)

So, I was watching a television show this week, called "Wipe-Out", and thought to myself "these people are crazy." I mean, they're putting themselves through terrible obstacles, wiping out in front of everyone for the mere chance of winning $50,000. And a slight chance at that!

When I woke first at 4 AM this morning I couldn't remember what the heck I had gotten myself into for this Saturday morning. Then when my alarm finally rang at 4:45, I thought hard before remembering -- that's right, I gotta get going, I have a long drive ahead, not to mention a mudrun to endure. : ) : (

As I drove through the Santa Ana Mountains, focusing through the fog, sleepy still, and bit hungry too, I thought to myself "What the heck am I doing? I mean, am I crazy? What is my problem that I drag myself out of bed at these ridiculous hours, hit the rode before sunrise? And there's no chance of winning a dime. Not even a chance of placing, or even placing in my age group." I began to grow a bit down . . . what is it exactly that I'm trying to prove?

It was light when I arrived to Kurt's (a friend I have known since I was 12). And as usual, out of darkness, things looked a little brighter. On que, my comedian friend quickly cheered me as we made our way to Devore for the San Bernardino Sheriff Department's Mudrun. This was our second year running the same mudrun together. Last year, though only a 5k, it was tough.

Kurt had not pre-registered, and because he only brought credit cards along, couldn't register this morning. And for the first time in a race, I ran alongside a bandit. That made for some excitement. I don't know what they do to race bandits -- were the deputies going to pull him out of the race, or worse yet, catch him at the Start Line, taser him on the spot?

Clean and Pristine Pre-Race (Maybe Not Exactly Pristine)


Turned out, no one noticed my bandit friend as we ran this muddy race together. Well, I'm sure he was noticed, as my friend is quite a character, flirting with all the young ladies we passed. But no one noticed that he was a bandit. We ran up steep climbs, ran through mud pits. We ran up and down moguls, crawled through thick, sticky mud, slipped in the mud, fell in the mud. We jumped over obstacles, ran through giant pipes, all admist loud explosives -- and, ALL FOR THE FUN OF IT!

Hmmmm.

It was fun, despite the pain (those wipeout people -- they're crazy!). My socks filled with mud, and those fine granules dug at my ankles like sharp rocks. But in no time, it was over. 3.11 miles, even with all those obstacles, well, it's practically over before you know it.

Anyway, Kurt and I finished together (I bettered my time from last year & because he wanted to run together Kurt's time was longer this year -- but it was all for fun, who cares about time. Right? Right.)

Me and Kurt

How One Removes The Mud

Photos I Snapped On Our Way to the Car of Runners Coming in for the Finish : )

"Make New Friends and Keep the Old. One is Silver and the Other's Gold."

Wood Canyon in its Summertime Glory (A Pictorial -- mainly :)

As this newfound back-to-school freedom begins to set in, we found ourselves this Friday with some spare time. And so, my husband and I decided on a hike through the lovely Wood Canyon. We started plenty late (about 10 AM) after tending to work, errands and such. And so it was rather warm. I take that back -- it was more than warm . . . it was hot. But we had a nice cool breeze for occasional comfort, plenty of shade, and a beautiful Wood Canyon in all its summertime glory.

Enter Wood Canyon

Buckwheat along the trail

The Lovely Wood Creek Trail

Stairway to Heaven? Think not, but a beautiful trip through Wood Creek Trail

Why I love Wood Creek Trail

Crossing Back over to Wood Canyon Trail

Creek along Coyote Run Trail

Coyote Run Trail


Prickly Pear (Coyote Run Trail)

More Coyote Run Trail

Somewhere on Dripping Cave Trail

Miles hike with husband this morning: 6

Quickest Route to Top of the World

My goal: a short run, but I didn't want it easy, and I wanted trails (which goes without saying that I didn't want easy). I began running at about 9:45 AM, which was problematic due to the heat. But I was determined anyway to once again, run to the top. To make that trip in about five miles, well, that was a first for me. Usually, I do some kind of loop to get to the top and back, totalling between ten and twelve miles. But there is a way in fact, that's much shorter (definitely not much easier)-- it's up that Cholla, then that rolling Westridge to the top.

I took off on a paved downhill from the grassy Canyon Vista Park. As a cool breeze blew, music piped in through my earphones aiding in my determination to run all the way, no matter how hot it got. And it got hot. Hot, hot, hot. Pretty quickly, I ran through that wall of heat and my feet hit the dirt a few minutes in. Then it was exposed trail for the entire distance. Up, up, and away I went on Cholla, which is quite short, about 1/3 mile, but steep, sometimes rocky, and all sunny.

At Top of the World, I talked with a few cyclists before turning around and returning the same way, up and down Westridge, then down Cholla. This was my first trip down Cholla, and needless to say, I focused hard on keeping my balance. About half way down, I took a phone call (so odd these modern days!) from my old-time friend calling to say he'd run Saturday's crazy race with me. "I'm on a sunny slope right now, can I call you back?"

And though I powered up some of those hilly portions (mainly the short ones), I took that last paved hill up to the car running rather slowly. I reached the car absolutely drenched and covered in salt, after only 5.9 miles.

But I loved it. : ) AND . . . I did not fall : )

You Are Now Entering Cholla Trail -- Tread Lightly and do not Fear : )

About a Quarter Way Up Cholla, Looking Back to Trail Entrance and Wood Cyn

Up Up and Away / Summertime on Cholla Trail

A Sad Freedom

Not one of us here got good sleep last night -- much on my mind, I'm pretty sure that I woke every hour. Just before waking for good, I dreamt that I rollerbladed along the asphalt Aliso Woods Trail. Then I daringly crossed over the "Closed" section, the one that intersects Wood Canyon Trail, and doesn't have a gate. It's just simply closed off to travelers. I breezed over that thing on blades, enjoying the freedom, until the trail took a turn toward the creek. Then after a sharp right I discovered a hidden treasure of a trail. It ran alongside the creek, beside secret homes for the privledged who had to access this heavenly trail.

Well, I scooted down a steep slope in my blades to access this dirt trail, when I found myself on a richly manicured lawn and before me, a gigantic wildcat. She was as tall as my shoulders, grayish-brown, and a cross between a cougar and a lion. Basically, it was a cougar with a mane. Well, I backed up slowly, moving my way up that incline. And just as I was about to hop back up onto that paved trail and skate away, the rangers drove by. Fearful that the cougar-lion might pounce, but more afraid of the rangers, I ducked and hid there until the rangers were good and gone. Then I hopped up on the trail and raced along the asphalt trying to make it back to the public road before the rangers caught me on a closed portion. But there was snow everywhere now, and hikers kept stopping me to ask the way. Frustration grew when I finally woke.

So what does that dream mean?

I have no idea. I'm sure in some way, it symbolically tells the story of sending my boys off to school today. Sure, I looked forward to this day. Today, I would gain my daytime freedom. No more nagging, no more 3 boys fighting. But it was very sad too. No more three boys lounging around the living room during breakfast, no more three boys laughing too loud in the morning. I missed them terribly, and ruminated over the fact that our guys are growing up so, so fast.

And so what did I do when all the dropping off at schools was complete?

That's easy. I'm sure there's no guessing here. 9:20 AM, I clipped my ipod to my belt, and I ran. Beneath cloudy skies, I ran down to the state beach, then through the smoky campground, and out onto that long stretch that used to kill me nearly six years ago. The tide was high, and when the sun finally broke through the clouds, its shine created thousands of fluctuating silver glimmers across the sea.

The wind blew cool, the sun beared down hot, and I ran some more. I ran out to the rock jetty where old fishermen threw out lines into still waters. Across the way, hundreds of pelicans mulled about the filling station dock. Plenty of other runners made the rounds too -- perhaps they also had sent children off for their first day back to school.

And I ran some more, through the wharf, its restaurants practically empty of tourists, seaguls prancing along roof tops, flies swarming in their glory at back door entrances.

And I ran some more beneath the bridge in cool shade, then up and over it to my island. Squirrels with tummies bulging ran across my path. But it was the walkers who blocked my path. Drinking fountains quenched my thirst, all the while, I thought about nothing. Nothing.

And I ran some more.

I didn't stop until I reached the cliffs. Waves crashed upon the jetty, sending easy, routine splashes toward the trail. I stopped for a second here, noticing a burn in my arms from my shirt seams. After rubbing chapstick along my arms, I took off running again. And I took that big hill home as fast as I could, no hands on the hips, just looking to the ground, listening to my music, thinking about nothing.

Freedom is definately kinda sad.

Miles logged this morning: 11.36

# of other runners on my route: 19

Maple Springs / Main Divide / Silverado Motorway

Woke at 4:15 this morning, on the road at 4:45. It was still dark, and unable to read the unassuming street signs, I drove right past Silverado Canyon on the way in. I made a u-turn on that lonely mountain road to arrive at the Silverado / Black Star Canyon intersection a little before 5:30 AM.

The weather was wonderfully cool as six of us (I'll refrain from saying six of us lunatics, or six of us crazies!) headed up Maple Springs Road. There was no downhill, or even a flat warm-up. The climb, though very gradual, began right away. Hey, I'm not complaining -- a cool breeze can make up for a lot. The climb was constant up to the Main Divide, but not terrible. That's not to say that I wasn't tired -- that I was. But I still had plenty of energy and the heat had not begun to bear down upon us.

Heading Up On Maple Springs Road

Maple Springs


Main Divide Road / Looking Back From Whence We Came


When the pavement ended, we ran a switch-back dirt road to the Main Divide, totalling a little under ten miles (I think). Daniel was waiting for Tom, Kelly and me, David and Larry had gone on ahead. When after wondering whether they had taken the correct turn, we saw two tiny figures in the distance, and so we were off too, headed for the ridge and that glorious trip down.

Meeting up on the Ridge (Tom Pointing Out Where We're Headed)


And We're Off!


The last part of the Main Divide Road (along the ridge) got pretty crazy for me. I found myself conserving water, which was not too smart. And the two hundred calories thus far wasn't nearly enough to make some of the steep climbs. My energy drained from me quickly as the sun now beared down hard. I relished even the tiniest bits of shade. And it was only after two hundred more calories, thanks to Kelly and Tom, did my energy slowly return. I told myself then -- no more rationing water. In fact, "you're in big trouble girl if you have any water left at the car."

Looking over other side of Santa Ana Mountains
(215 Fwy below, Lake Matthews in distance)


Me and It's-Not-As-Steep-As-It-Seems-Tom : )

Our Last Ascent!!


Group Photo-Op before heading down
2,000 Ft in Two Miles (Silverado Motorway)
Kelly, Daniel, Me, David, Larry

The trip down was a blast. Though tired as I was, I focused hard. Do not fall. DO NOT FALL. I tripped about three times, but no falls. That Silverado Motorway was a steep, steep, rocky switch- back (about 2,000 ft. in 2 miles). And though it was oh so beautiful, it was OH SO HOT. Tom, Kelly and I all ran out of water before reaching the bottom of the canyon. That was okay, because downhill, knowing the end is just around the corner, well, nothing beats that! Even in the blazing sun.

What a run. I'll say it again. What a run.

Miles logged this morning: 16.4

The Final Stretch (Car Is Just Around The Corner!)

The Fast Ones Waiting For Us As We Arrive

Elevation Profile (courtesy Tom, as well as 3 of the pics above)

Catching a Cool Breeze

Originally I planned for an early morning run, but for the first time in a long time, I slept in. What time is sleeping in? 7 AM. (Oh, where have the days gone when sleeping in meant 10 or 11 o' clock?) I couldn't fit in a morning run waking so late (we had things to do, places to go : ) Plus, another blazing hot day, there wasn't a chance I was gonna run with the sun anywhere in sight. And so I waited.

8 PM, still quite humid, down right hot in the house, I finally set out for a run. The moon was full, or nearly full, big in the sky. It cast a wonderful shimmering column of light across the dark ocean. I was surprised as I ran out to the rock jetty to find the weather still quite hot -- but who am I to judge? I mean, how could it be hot, I mean "really" hot, running along the seaside? Believe me, it was.

Not a leaf stirred in the trees, the ocean was still, its swells measuring in inches. But then as I ran on through the wharf, restaurant lights twinkling across the black waters, sudden marvelous cool breezes hit me head-on. These surprise gusts stayed with me as I ran throughout the marina all the way to the cliffs, where I stood looking down at the waves as they gently rolled in.

Miles logged in the dark: 5.09

# of other runners out there tonight: 3

To The Top!

Big clouds, with slight touches of gold and blue, shaded the land for a 6:30 AM run to Top of the World with fellow club runner, Tom. Those gorgeous clouds also trapped in the heat, making for a humid trip through Wood Canyon. I wasn't complaining too badly though, because of the lovely shade those clouds provided. Perhaps the clouds were the reason that the park had more visitors than normal (and I do believe the bikers were out earlier than usual), plus one lone worker trimming branches along the trail.

From the first step, I thought, "Oh my gosh, how am I gonna do this?" so tired was I. (Actually, I thought "How am I gonna do this?" from my first step out of bed). But there's something about running Aliso and Wood Canyons: I have to run all the way to the top -- doesn't matter how tired I am, or which trails we take, to the top they must lead.

And so we ran that gorgeous humid Wood Canyon, with Sycamore trees starting to show their fall color, all the way to Cholla Trail. Cholla is an exposed single track, quite steep, but not too long. It's extremely difficult for me to run up, and I'm never quite sure when it's gonna end. Then suddenly there's a right turn, and Cholla is finished. Hallelujah!

Stopping at bridge over creek on Wood Canyon Trail



There were plenty of bikers out this morning on the Westridge trail, which we took all the way to the top. And at the steepest, toughest part, Tom ran up ahead, and if I'm not mistaken, he raced the cyclist up that thing (and won!).

Running Westridge looking towards Aliso Viejo neighborhood

Quick snacks at the Top of the World, I don't remember even looking over the other side to Laguna Beach. Have I run to the top now so many times, that the view's become mundane? Oh my, let that not be. The view to the other side used to be my motivation. Now I suppose my motivation is simply the satisfaction of running some dang tough hills.

We took Mathis Trail down, with occassional breezes along the way. Cloud cover now disappearing, shade was the greatest relief.

In all we ran 11.63 miles, I'd say a great way to start the week (did I forget to mention that my week doesn't start til I run? : )

Fossils in rock where I stretched near ranger station

Dirt Tastes A Whole Lot Better Than Pavement

Overslept for a 6AM run (because I need an hour or so before heading off for a long run), I finally made it out the door 6:22. I looked forward to this twenty mile run, not really wondering if I could do it, because I knew that I could. Actually, compared to the trails, I figured it would be a cinch. In the midst of our usual end-of-August heat wave, I carried a handheld for water, with several electrolyte tablets packed in the strap for refills along the way. Good thing. Can you believe it was already warm at 6:30 in the morning? Not just warm, but muggy.

On the way down PCH I met an out of town trail runner who asked for directions to the beach. I told her, as well as, what I thought would be about a five mile run. We joyfully compared the trail to the road, the trail of course so much funner. And I ended by pointing to my scabbed knee with a comment about falling on the trail.

At least I won't have to worry about that on the road!

This is how I progress my way through long runs: I break it into portions or "legs". And I work on just one leg at at time.

Leg One (5.28 Miles)
Leg one started off great, meeting a fellow trail runner as mentioned, I looked forward to some nice solitude, good music. And then . . . AND THEN (I practically weep thinking about it), I FELL! I actually tripped on a sidewalk crack and plummeted forward. I hit that sidewalk hard, knee landing first, and then I rolled to the left (instead of my usual right, I suppose because I held my water in my right hand). All the while, cars whizzed by.

Well, I was pissed. I mean, damn angry, grumbling profanities beneath my breath. How could this happen? I wasn't even running downhill. Scab blown off, my knee bled afresh. After cleaning it with an antibacterial wipe, I applied an over-sized band-aid and put my feet to the pavement, and continued running.

There are differences between falling on dirt versus falling on pavement. First off, pavement DOES NOT MOVE. There's no give whatsoever. That makes for a much harder impact. Also, when I fall on the trail, dirt completely covers my wounds, pretty much stopping the bleeding immediately.

Anyway, there was a dead duck on the sidewalk after that. And the air smelled of gasoline as I made my way inland. Occassionally, glass littered the way. And here and there a single sock laid in the gutter or in the landscaped planters. When the climbing began, I ran it stoically, never stopping (because these beach city hills, though steep, are nothing compared to say, Mathis or Cholla in Wood Canyon). Then toward the city's high point, I noticed a thin rope tied across the sidewalk, attached to a street sign. What the heck? Up a ways, another rope taut across the sidewalk.

The downhill was no thrill for me. My bandage saturated in blood, I moved on through this leg to a paved path that led me down to the city's northern most beach. Plenty of hikers made their way down this trail, which about half way posted a sign that read "Trail Closed -- DANGER of slide." I let my mind wander, thinking about my life, still angry about my knee, my shirt now irritating me as it rode up my waist. And then suddenly, a feeling of despair overcame me. "Don't think, don't think," I told myself. JUST RUN. And so, I kept on running, because I really had no choice as far as I was concerned. Besides that, Leg One's end was in sight.

Leg Two (1.94 miles)
I ran out under PCH to begin Leg Two. Plenty of runners made their way along this beachside path. Not a breeze stirred as I began another climb that ended running beneath the highway for a flight of stairs up to the apartment complex that my husband and I lived in for many years. (memories) From there I made another climb up the same hill I ran down a few miles earlier. I looked to the trees, desperate for air movement. Not a leaf stirred.

Leg Three (2.65 miles)
This leg began on a downhill, back toward the sea. The bloodied bandage weighed on my mind, and my shirt irritated me so terribly, I was about to rip it in two when I decided on a four block detour (8 total for a round trip) to head home for a new shirt and clean bandage.

Back on the road, more comfortable in my favorite green, snagged-up shirt, I ran through the town center where vendors set up today's market. It smelled of bell peppers, onions, nectarines and all sorts of wonderful produce. Few buyers strolled about at this early hour.

I crossed PCH once again and ran to the cliff that overlooks the harbor. The air was still. But my spirits now lifted with a new shirt and clean bandage, I ran down the stairway for a gorgeous run on the historic cliff side trail to end with another stairway back to the road. And then I was back again, running down the same highway, toward the same beaches I told the women how to get to a few hours earlier.

Leg Four (3.86 miles)
This phase was the longest, mentally, and the hottest, yet the flattest portion of the run. It was mainly on asphalt where I ran through a crowded campground that smelled of campfires and cigarette smoke. I ran the straightaway, the waves to my right unseen because of RV after RV parked against the sand.

When the sidewalk ended and I made that last turn around, I was not physically tired, but mentally so.

Leg Five (4.36 miles)
Finally! The beauty of the run! Shade!!! I ran up to the jetty, a multitude of long boarders off to my left waiting for that perfect wave. An actual breeze blew as I made my way through the crowded wharf, restaurants full of morning diners. People lined the sidewalk for day long fishing trips. Several other runners made their way alongside the marina's still waters, very few smiling. It was hot!

Leg Six( 2.44 miles)
Portion six ended coming off the island, where I ran past the marine institute to the cliffs that tower above the small beach there. Tide was high, the surf rather calm. And then it was homeward bound with one last hill to climb, which I ran confidently, all the way back home.

Well, that's enough of the road for now!

Trails, take me away.

Miles logged this morning: 20.53

Falls to date: 8 (But who's counting?)

ps. Back at home I asked my husband, "What's the matter with me? Why so many falls?"

He responded, "Didn't your family used to call you 'Grace' when you were a kid?"

(Well, first of all, I was never a goat, but . . . ) Oh ya, that's right. I almost forgot: I'm a clutz. Okay . . . I feel better now.

All is well in the world. : )

Nice N' Easy

I've been semi-secretly toying with the idea of running another marathon this October. Shhhhhhh! Don't tell anyone. Like I said, I'm just toying with the idea. In deciding, I set aside one day this weekend for a long solo road run, just to see how it goes : ) And not wanting to push my weekly miles up too quickly, this morning I decided for a nice n' easy run.

I set out LATE, 8:18 AM to be exact. I ran straight down to the coast, hoping for some relief from this heat. What I got was humidity along the still marina waters. But what I also got was giant waves crashing down on the jetty rocks, sending splashes rocketing before spectators at the cliffs. Uneven sets of harsh waves rolled in, one after the other, white water dominating the first fifty yards or so of the ocean. An untamed sea gobbled up the tiny beach there at my turnaround. What an awesome, fierce sight! And I was off again . . .

Careful not to put in very many miles, I plowed up the big hill home. Just once I found my hands on my hips, which I promptly flung away to pick up my pace some back to Highway One. My family used to me being away for hours when I run, my husband laughed when I came through the door. "What'd you run, 100 yards?"

Nope.

Miles logged this morning: 4.32

Number of other runners on the road: 12

On the Road Again

The morning after Bulldog, I crawled out of bed aching from head to toe. This was no ordinary worked-out-too-hard ache. This was a slammed-hard-to-the-ground-on-a-downhill-run ache. It felt as if I had been in a car accident. My arms, my chest, my legs hurt. Everything hurt. Even my fingers ached from digging out tiny pebbles beneath the skin.

Day two I felt much better, though opted for another day of rest. Day three -- time to get back to the trail. I couldn't wait, though I could have easily slept in when the alarm rang at 5:20 AM. After two short days, I felt like I was missing out. I wanna run!! (Or do I? Am I crazy or what?) And so, Tuesday, 6:30 AM, a camelback strapped to my back, a cell phone and camera, plus a couple pieces of gum in my belt, I hit the dirt running, headed for Top of the World with Tom and Luis.

The weather cool, the skies cloudy, almost misty, we took Aliso Creek Trail to Wood Canyon -- chatting along the way, laughing, taking in a lovely breeze, shady groves, and a nice wide, flat trail. Before we knew it, we hit a wall of hot air, and that's just about when the climb began and the sun shined through. I told Tom and Luis to go on ahead, that they'd have time to rest at the top, because I was going to take a while. But I did run every step of that steep trail named Cholla, and it was even slightly, so slightly easier than it has been before (thank you Bulldog!)

From there we took the ridge (Westridge), a rolling hill adventure, with two rather difficult pieces (one of which Luis sprinted!). At Top of the World, the marine layer gone made for a gorgeous view, as well as a photo-op (lest I forget). We took one of my favorites, my first favorite trail actually, Mathis Trail, on the way down -- what a delight to just run a downhill, no racers breathing down my back (though there's a place for that too : ).

In all we ran 11.63 wonderful miles, arriving back at the ranger station ready for the start of a brand new day.

Running Westridge, Looking towards Santa Ana Mountains

Tom, Me and Luis (Laguna Beach in background)

Tom catches Gopher Snake on the way in to ranger station

Bulldog 25K

“That’s the only way to do it – go. When there’s a jungle waiting, you go through it and come out clean on the far side. Because if you struggle to back out, you get all snarled, and afterwards the jungle is still there, still waiting.”

Peter Mattheissen, At Play in the Fields of the Lord.

I woke at the ridiculous hour of 3:45 AM, after dreaming, it seemed all night long, that I was sitting in the bleachers, waiting to compete in a “marathon” swim. Suddenly, I realized that I didn’t know how race dive anymore, or at least wasn’t sure if I could. And so I fretted, waiting my turn, trying to sleep, conjuring up ways that I could make up for a poor dive, etc., etc., until my cell phone alarm went off and I lay in bed wondering, “Okay, what day is it, where am I supposed to go?”

BULLDOG.

That’s where I’m supposed to go!

I headed out at 4 AM, gear bag in hand, coffee thermos in the other. Then at the door the thermos handle broke and my coffee fell to the hardwood floor. My husband was quick to aid, and fortunately I had plenty coffee remaining when I finally hit the road at 4:10 AM. (But as usual, the day started off as an adventure!)

I drove the entire distance under darkness and arrived in Calabasas at the local Albertsons where I picked up fellow club runner, Larry. And then of all things, we got a first row parking space, directly in front of bib pick-up.

In an attempt to condense this blog down from TWENTY-FIVE pages, here’s a few things up front:

1) I changed my mind last minute and went with my standard, oldest pair of trail shoes (New Balance), though I packed the Salomons in case I changed my mind again.
2) The weather was cool and cloudy (Glory be to God!)
3) The freeways were empty and I made it to Calabasas in just under 90 minutes
4) My goal for this tough 25k was three hours, though I knew that would be difficult with such steep climbs, in the back of my mind, I knew that 3 hours would have to be the best trail run I’d ever ran.
5) And finally, I planned to run straight through the creek and not worry about balancing over rocks.

Anyway, I felt strong for a good long while – nice flat entrance on this Bulldog 25k course – perhaps 3 to 4 miles of quick, yet comfortable pace, gorgeous warm-up. It was wide roads, then rocky single track just off the stream. Some time after all that, the climb began and I came upon the first aid station. Water, sports drinks, pretzels, saltine crackers, and candy a plenty awaited us. I took a handful of Skittles, chewed down and sucked on the wad of sugar as I plowed up, up, up towards the peak of the Santa Monica Mountains that overlook Malibu. The climb so steep, it wasn’t long before everyone around me was walking.

Making our way in

Remnants of M.A.S.H. television series set

Climbing . . .

I had some rules for this most difficult portion of the race:

1) No hands on the hips. I put my hands on my hips, it means I’m resting – BIG TIME. Hands on the hips means I lose arm momentum, and going up that steep trail, I need all the momentum I can get!
2) Haul ass on any and all flat portions – that means run fast!
3) Make it to aid station #2 within 1 ½ hours
4) And finally PUSH – not matter what! Even on the steepest of climbs – push, push, push!.

I kept a keen eye on my watch and about an hour twenty minutes in, knew I wasn’t making aid station #2 within my time limit. I kept trying though, and when I got weak, my mantra was “push, push, push . . . “ I kept those arms going and even chatted a bit with other runners on the way up. Then finally, I saw aid station 2 in sight and though I was over my time limit, I raised my arms in victory as I ran down to it. One hour forty minutes it took to arrive to this destination. And even running a bit over time, I called my husband to tell him the news, and I stood in line for the porta-pottys (Gosh, I hate that!!)

Yahoo!!! Aid Station Two

Leaving Aid Station Two

There’s still a climb after that second station, a beautiful, sandstone climb overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Though cloudy somewhat, the Pacific provided a grand view. I spotted a blimp off in the distance. I snapped a few pictures, but at some point I tucked the camera away for good, because I knew I had lots of time to make-up for a 3 hour finish. There were more climbs to make, which I took rather well, power walking some of them, running others.

Awesome Stuff

And then the grand descent began. And what fun it was. I passed some who walked, others who ran it cautiously. Downhill is what I’m practiced at, and this was a nice, wide fire road, for a whole 2 miles. It was beautiful, and I wore a broad smile as I made my way down, relishing music from my ipod.

Just towards the end of this nice wide downhill, I caught a glimpse of the boy’s detention center (where my final ascent would be) and I thought looking at my watch, there’s a very slight chance I could make my time. But . . . after another uphill climb, I fell light-headed and my right leg began cramping. So I downed some Gu. The calories seemed to help my weakness, though the cramping persisted as I ran, reaching back to massage my right calf.

Then off onto the downhill single track I ran. It was thin, and rocky, a few runners ahead and a few runners behind, I took it rather quickly, giddy for the end of this 25k. And then . . . I’m not precisely sure what happened. Perhaps my leg cramped again, or perhaps I simply tripped. All I really know is that on a pretty good descent, I flew and landed hard on the rocky terrain. And when I hit, my body cramped all at once. I scared the lovely lady in front of me, as she turned back to see me sprawled out on my back (I didn’t land on my back, when I hit I rolled.) She ran back to help, as well as, the two or three others behind. They hovered over me, “Are you alright? What can we do?” My hands were bleeding, as was my knee. But I knew nothing was broken. I just had to get out of this body cramp! I wanted to say, “Can you rub my leg to get this cramp gone?” But I didn’t dare ask strangers for such a favor. However, I couldn’t reach my calf myself, because even after sitting up, my body was still full-on, stiff in a cramp. Then one of the gals asked, “Can I help you up?” I gladly responded, “Why, yes you can.” and couldn’t tell them enough how nice they were – they after all took several minutes off their time to help me. Standing up, I was able to reach down and massage my right leg. And one of the ladies gave me an electrolyte pill for the cramping. I was off and running before it even took effect (which it did several minutes later) and at the next aid station I took time to thoroughly wash my hands to make sure I didn’t have any gaping injuries.

At that point I still had too much to traverse to make my time. But I kept on running. I was thinking, “okay, 3 hours ten minutes . . . “ The cramping now gone, I still felt okay, but quite tired. The scenery lush and shady, I ran on through the single track passing runners here and there, despite aching hands and bloody knee. When I came to the stream, I by-passed the line of people waiting to cross over the most opportune rocks. I plowed right through that water, causing an uproar of laughter from those who cautiously crossed to avoid wet feet.

Wet, muddy shoes, I made that last uphill at a fast pace, running when I could, power-walking the rest. A few runners passed me, running amazingly strong. And when I could look down at the boy’s detention center, I felt great relief. Home was just around the corner. A woman behind me exclaimed about then, “Oh my gosh! Did you fall?” I laughed and said that I did, and that nothing was broken, so all was well. “What’s a trail run without a good fall?” I joked. (She laughed and agreed).

I was dead, dead-dog tired. Though flat, the last bit of this Bulldog race was tough for me. Still, I ran it all the way in. I didn’t make my 3 hour limit, but after the initial disappointment, I’m happy about my performance. (Someone called out 3:21 when I crossed the finish line – don’t have official standings yet)

Crossing Finish Line

That’s quite a trail race! Be sure that I’ll be back next year to try for 3 hours once again.

So Happy to be done!

Larry, fully rested after coming in at 2 hrs twenty something minutes!

Kilometers logged today: 25 (just under 16 miles)
Injuries: a bruise, 4 small cuts on the hands, 1 swollen and scabbed knee
Body completely crusted with salt, arms, legs and face filthy but . . . Toes aching: ZERO!

And the tally shows . . .Total number of falls-to-date: 7