Blue Jay to Blue Jay

I drove up the mountain again in the dark this morning.  And this time, I didn’t make the long drive just to check the weather and drive back (like I did last weekend).  My eyelids were heavy, the weather was cold.  And I so, so, so didn’t want to run.  (What’s going on with me???)  I wanted more than anything to drive home and go back to sleep. 

My truck parked in Blue Jay at The Main Divide, I applied sunscreen, Glide.  I briefly considered taking a nap in my truck.  Only the fear of a crazed killer breaking my window and slashing my throat as I slept stopped me.  “Just get out of the car and start marching,” I told myself.  And that I did.  Up the Main Divide, I hiked, I ran, I suffered as the sun rose above the horizon.

Nearly  two miles later, I felt in the groove – just in time for a nice long downhill on Trabuco Trail.  I felt good.  Loose.  I made good time.  I even made better time than usual when it got rocky.  AND IT GOT ROCKY.   Amazingly, I came upon running friend Mark R. on that trail.  I write “amazingly” because out of all the trails, and all the hours in the day, it’s a big coincidence that I’d come upon a friend in these lonely woods. 

Trail running is so fun!

Running down a serene Trabuco Trail: 

Rocks.  And more rocks!:

I wasted twenty, yes TWENTY minutes at the bottom of Trabuco.  I dug out my water stash, refilled my pack.  The weather warming up, I had to peel off layers and somehow find room for them in my pack.  With a full water bladder, I needed to cram my belongings into my pack to fit.  I broke one of the bungee cord tie downs on the backside.  I feared I might bust the zippers too, my pack was so full.  Ended up, I had to take out a water bottle and carry it.  (I drank it on the way up Holy Jim to get rid of the weight.)

On the way up Holy Jim, I was lucky to come upon a California Mountain King Snake.  It was beautifully colored, bright orange, black and white.  But, alas, it moved too fast for me to catch a photo.  I made decent time, not great, but not terrible, running slowly up Holy Jim.  The main thing was, I didn’t suffer much.  I didn’t suffer much because I finally realized how to run Holy Jim.  The secret is: Fully expect another switchback at every single bend, otherwise your heart will break again and again.  In other words, don’t look for the end.  Don’t expect the end.  Just keep going and take in the beauty. 

Warming up on Holy Jim: 

I put my hands on my hips at least once.  And I grabbed a couple tree trunks on my final ascent to Bear springs.  Again, I was amazed this morning.  Bear Springs was actually CROWDED with people taking in the giant shade before a big trek to Santiago Peak.  I had to get a picture.  I stood back from the group, snapped a photo and one of the young women turned and looked at me.  “I know you,” she said.  I started filing through runners in my mind to place her.  Before I could finish she said, “You’re Lauren.  I read your blog!” 

Wow!  Talk about a picker-upper.  I chatted a bit with Maria and her friends (in photo below).  She was so nice and encouraging about my Old Goat training.  She made me feel like I was almost there as far as training, instead of how I’ve been feeling, which is I’m NO WHERE CLOSE.

Bear Springs:

I took off rested on The Main Divide back toward Blue Jay, noticing cougar tracks in far too many places.  They were small tracks, but much too big for a bobcat.  They probably belonged to a juvenile.  I’ve seen cougar tracks on occasion, especially on Harding Truck Trail, but never on this trail. 

The remainder of this 21 mile run was a grueling, yet joyful, up and down, up and down rocky truck trail.  I ran up on snow several times, using the opportunity to fill my cap with it so that I could keep my head cool.

Looking toward the Pacific Ocean (at Indian Truck Trail intersection):

I’m so relieved that I got out and ran instead of napping in my truck.

Great gain today (6,344’):

I think I can’t

After working a 6 day week, I started off this morning at 4:30 AM in a low mood.  I felt fatigued. I felt discouraged.  As Old Goat 50 approaches, I realize more than ever, that I am in way over my head.  I don’t think I can do it.  And how can I even start a race if I don’t think that I can do it?

Even with this defeatist attitude, I dressed for a run and got out the door early.  I began the drive up the mountain at 5:00 AM.  About five miles into Ortega Highway, a car sped up behind me.  The skies were pitch black, the moon behind me, low on the horizon.  All I could decipher about the car were its blaring headlights riding up my rear. 

Now, I drive that windy, cliffy highway cautiously, but I keep at the speed limit.  Often drivers get behind me and tailgate beyond irritation.  I only slightly speed up when this occurs because I don’t want to become one of the countless fatalities of Ortega Highway.  I always pull over at the first turnout – even if the driver isn’t tailgating.  I don’t like driving up that mountain with any vehicles behind me. 

No turnout for a few miles I sped up, over the speed limit, I’m sure.  The car behind me slowed just a bit, but still rode me.  Then suddenly, the red and blue spinning lights took over the sky.  It was the sheriff.  His lights were magnificently bright against the black mountains.  And in my awe, I COULDN’T BELIEVE IT.  “Of all people,” I thought, “I’m going to get a speeding ticket???”  (Funny thing, the last speeding ticket I got was on Ortega Highway!  I was pregnant with my first son on my way home from substitute teaching at a boys’ detention camp located near Lower Blue Jay Campground.  The irony!)

The deputy was a young guy.  I probably had 20 years on him.  Foolishly, I immediately blurted out my reason for speeding.  He said, “That’s okay, don’t worry about it.”  Turns out, he pulled me over because my truck matched the description of someone who had just stolen some pallets.  (Or so he said ). 

“Have a good night,” he said.  And I was off driving up the mountain toward Lower Blue Jay Campground to run The Candy Store Lollipop Loop plus some.  I stashed some water on my way there.  I arrived to Blue Jay under dark skies.  After applying sunscreen and Glide while sitting in my warm truck, I opened the door and stepped out.  Tree canopies all about swirled in a fierce wind.  My face nearly cracked and shattered from the wind chill. 

I could not run in the freezing wind.  Or could I?  I felt like a wimp, like maybe I should.  But in the end, I decided to drive back down the mountain during sunrise.  I stopped to get the water I stashed on the way up.  Then I debated all the way down the mountain what I should do.

Seriously, I didn’t want to run.  My eyelids felt heavy.  I thought about driving home and going straight to bed.  However, I knew that I’d let the evil bashing voices in to condemn me all day.  Then I thought, “Heck, just pull over and sleep in the truck; that way no one will know.”  (Ha, ha, no one but me, not to mention, I’d have to lie to my family, which I wouldn’t do).  At the bottom of the mountain, I finally decided some food might help me get along.  So I stopped by McDonalds for a healthy greasy breakfast.  The Sausage Egg McMuffin totaled 450 calories.  So, I made the decision to run the coastal hills without calories, thinking the 450 would do me.  (I usually don’t eat breakfast before running.)

The weather was quite cold at Aliso/Wood Canyons, but not freezing.  I took off into Aliso Canyon with stiff calves and shins, which is weird because that tightness doesn’t occur in the mountains. 

I really had no idea how far I’d run this morning, though I had planned on 26.  I knew that I wouldn’t do that.  I wasn’t even sure if I could do 5 miles today.  Relieved to just get out there, I practiced loosening up.  I practiced on focusing.  I practiced keeping my core straight.  Whenever I thought about anything, I sobbed.  So, I didn’t think.  I concentrated on running elevation, not so much miles.  (I still want to run Mt. Everest’s elevation this month). 

I wound in and around the wilderness park for a little over 16 miles.  At first I felt very good on the down hills.  I even felt okay on the ascents.  Before I was even half way through (which I didn’t know at the time because I didn’t know how many miles I would run), fatigued settled in.  Allowing the McDonalds breakfast to carry me through on calories was not a good idea. 

Though my mood was in the dumps overall today, I enjoyed much of today’s run.  I got out there when I didn’t want to run.  The only thing I wanted to do was sleep.  So utterly wiped out I was in the end, I hiked the last .75 mile in.  And now that I think of it, I didn’t even stretch at the truck.  Instead, I drove home, but stopped first for some groceries.  Then I slept for 2 hours.

And that is the story of today’s run. 

A quick pose after climbing Mentally Sensitive:

Finishing up Rock It:

Dragging myself up Lynx:

Birthday Run

I’m not much into “training.”  I’m really into trail running.  When it comes to “training”, I flail.  My confidence plummets when I “train.”  Negative self-talk sets in.  (I’m working on that problem.)

This time around, I’m just getting in the miles, best I can.  And I’m practicing sections of my upcoming race.  I like to know every ditch and boulder on the trails that I race.  That way I won’t need to look for markers.  And there’s less surprises.  (With trail running however, just like in life, it’s impossible to eliminate all surprises.) 

This morning, for my 48th birthday, I woke at 5AM, the entire household asleep, and drove up Ortega Highway into the Saddleback Mountains.  I stashed some water across the highway from The Candy Store and drove on up to Blue Jay campground (total drive = 1 hour). 

Then, on a cool weathered morning, I commenced to run approximately the first 20 miles of the 50 mile race I’m registered for next month.  I came in under the section cut-off with only minutes to spare.  That’s cutting it a bit too close for me.  But I learned lots on today’s run, mainly how to pace myself.  I also came upon the race director, Steve Harvey running with his Trans Rockies partner, Jennie (imagine my luck!!).  I told him, exasperated, “I don’t think I can make the cut-off.”  Steve hugged me and said, “You might not, but I think that you can do it.”  I believed him.  What he said is true.  I might not make the cut-off, but I CAN do it – it’s not out of reach.  To add to my luck, I got to clear up some things about the Candy Store Lollipop loop I was running.  Turns out, I’ve been taking a wrong turn about three miles in.  (Next PRACTICE run, I shall correct that).  

San Juan Trail trailhead – stooping down so that I can fit into picture frame (I cut my head off in first picture):

Chiquita Trail:

Changing socks for ankle socks near my water stash.  Across the highway is The Candy Store.  After refilling my pack, I found it very difficult to depart with my water jug.  And I spent TEN minutes here – much too long.  But that’s okay – it was a lovely time:

Heading back to Blue Jay on Chiquita (Though I believe the first picture below is part of San Juan Loop.)  The trip back is mainly uphill, quite technical and grueling beneath a warm sun:

A rock on Chiquita trail with beauty that stopped me in my tracks:

Still heading back on Chiquita:

Climbing Old San Juan Trail back to my truck:

The Candy Store Run

In preparation for Old Goat 50 this March, I left early this morning for a drive up the mountain to run what we call “The Candy Store Run.”  It’s named this because either the beginning, or the middle of the route, is across the highway from The Candy Store up Ortega Highway in the Cleveland National Forest.  This route is approximately the first twenty miles of Old Goat.  It’s single track, it’s technical, and even the downhill is hard, very hard. 

Since I parked across from The Candy Store I ran approximately miles 10 through 20 first, then turned around and ran miles 1 through 10 of Old Goat.  To run the route correctly would have meant driving several more miles and parking near a Big Baz trail race event today.  I was in the mood for some solo running this morning.  And solo running I got for a long, long time.

I found the “hard” part (mainly uphill) quite pleasant this morning.  The air was still cold and the scenery was breathtaking.  I felt strong the entire way into Lower Blue Jay campground.  

Running San Juan Loop down into canyon:

Chiquita Trail:

A stop at Chiquita Falls (which was dry).  I spent some minutes here, which won’t happen in the race.  (However, I must get in and out of the aid stations quickly come March!):

I entered Blue Jay Campground toward the end of Baz’s race.  I ran the opposite way as several worn-out runners.  Some were bloody and bruised (and bandaged), one lady was even holding her wrist up as if it was sprained or broken.  I also saw a running friend, John H. in the campground after he finished up a solo 20 miler.  Even though I didn’t stop by the Start/Finish, I could hear Baz’s voice booming through the mountains.  Sounded like a fun time.  Though the race was only a 12k, I could have benefited from it for speed training.  But I really needed to do this Candy Store Run.  I wanted to make sure that I could make it with enough time to complete the remaining 30 miles.

Turns out I ran this extremely difficult terrain in 6 hours, the absolutely longest I can take and maybe finish the 50 miler.  I did stop at the falls.  I also talked with John a bit.  Then on the final stretch back in I was stopped by nearly every group of hikers coming in (at least 4 different groups).  Now, I feel an obligation to be kind to strangers, and an even stronger obligation to answer their questions when they don’t know where they are, and I do.  I would HATE IT if I brushed off a hiker and he/she ended up lost.

One young woman hiking with her boyfriend asked me with despair in her voice, “How much longer til the end?”  There’s that question again.  Exactly WHERE IS THE END?  (Giggle, giggle).

I stopped.  “Where are you going?”

“Chiquita Falls.”

I couldn’t do the math quick enough using my garmin, and I really wanted to get going.  So, I asked, “How far have you travelled?” 

“About an hour,” the woman responded.

(Hardy laugh inside my head, but a wide smile on my face)  Time on the trails gives me absolutely no information.  When I talk about driving, I always talk in time.  For example, “It’s an hour drive.”  But not when it comes to running trails.

“I mean, how many miles?”

Her boyfriend told me that they had gone about 2 1/2 miles to which I responded, “Well then, you are half way there!”  He smiled at his girlfriend and gave her a reassuring hug. 

With about a mile remaining, and out of water for a while, three guys stopped me and asked, “Is there a peak or something somewhere around here?” 

I grinned, almost laughing looking up at all the peaks in the mountains.  Then (with a giggle to myself), I said, “Santiago Peak is about 30 miles away.”  I could tell they wanted to hike to a place of interest.  So, I told them about Chiquita Falls and how to get there.  Then as they marched off I noticed that each of them held ONE water bottle about half full.  “You don’t have enough water!” I yelled back.  I pointed to the ridge they’d have to go over and noted that it was exposed.  They’d never make it.  Good thing they believed me.  When I told them about the much shorter loop back to the parking lot, they said that sounded better.

We’re in the 80’s F here now in California.  When I arrived to my truck I was parched!  Without water for a mile or two, I couldn’t wait to get to the coconut waters in much truck that I had frozen the night before.  I felt for sure they’d be warm by then.  Turned out they were still frozen solid.  Desperate, I ran across the street to The Candy Store.  It smelled sickly sweet of freshly baked cookies and muffins.  I grabbed a water and a diet coke, swiped my debit card, and the total came to $4.85!!!!  Now if you have read my blog on occasion, you may have deduced if I haven’t already downright written it, I AM POOR.  There’s no way I’d ever pay that much for those two drinks (24 packs of cokes or water cost around $6 to $7).  Then the friendly cashier said that debit cards had a FIVE DOLLAR minimum.  “Would you like to add a cookie?”  The thought of a cookie made me want to vomit.  So, I added a small bag of candies for my sons’ dessert tonight and my total came to over $7.  Moral of the story – FILL UP ON WATER WHEN I GET TO BLUE JAY CAMPGROUND.  I had the chance, but I didn’t.  To make my mistake more stupid, I ran out of water after not re-filling at Blue Jay the last time I ran The Candy Store Run. 

Despite the water thing, I loved this run.  BUT, I really must do it faster.  Like an hour faster!!!  I want some time to spare for the next 30 miles.

Today’s profile :

Candy Store Run

My last run was last Sunday.  I recovered Monday.  Then my mood dipped pretty low.  I felt I needed to get my disordered life in order, so I spent much of my time organizing and cleaning and applying for more job positions. Hubby begged, “Please, go out and run!!!”  He didn’t say that because he wanted me out of the house.  The house was much cleaner after all – carpets vacuumed, floors swept, bills organized.  He just knows me.  He knows that runs would have lifted my spirits.  But it was gray and wet all week.  And that just made me more depressed.

In the interim, I did work on physical strength.  I did weight lifting, core work and general strength exercises nearly every day.  Then Saturday, I ran with my two youngest sons in the Kids Run The O.C. program.  I wore my New Balance Minimus trail shoes, which I can’t wear on the trail at all – they just aren’t substantial enough for technical terrain.  Anyway, even though the kids run was only one mile, I felt really good getting my legs moving.  The shoes were awesome, extremely comfy on the pavement.  It was all over too soon, and I couldn’t wait for today’s scheduled group run.

As many as 8 runners may have shown at 6:30 AM up in the local mountains.  Turns out, just two showed – me and my running friend, Michael P.

We started off on “The Candy Store” run on a cool morning, across the street from the candy store on Ortega Highway.  Right away I took us on a wrong turn, and we had to run back to the trail to continue onward.  Then once we got going on the correct, lush shady trail, I noticed that we were making a loop back to the parking lot.  I missed the turn off to Chiquita Trail!!  Missing the turn off added at least a quarter mile of technical uphill running (& back totaling 1/2 mile).

Back on track, running Chiquita Trail:

I found the trip up Chiquita delightful and wondered why it tore me apart so badly during the SJT 50k.  Of course, I had about twenty miles on my legs before making that trip!

The trail was empty on the out portion today.  We saw one hiker with hiking sticks making his way down.  He said this was, “The one trail that’s uphill on the way out and the way back.”  Seems so true.  But in reality it’s not.  Michael said that it’s like an Escher drawing. 

This time around, I was sure to search out Chiquita Falls, which I have failed to discover on my prior out-and-backs on this trail.  I found much less than I expected.  The falls were dry.

Chiquita Falls: 

And then we ran more Chiquita trail, now mostly in the shade.  It was lovely, lush and green.  And most of that green in the undergrowth?  POISON OAK.  I brushed against it again and again.  Here’s to hoping my apparent immunity to the plant is still intact. 

Arriving to the Chiquita trailhead, we had a choice to make.  1) Turnaround and run back, or 2) run a loop up San Juan Trail into Blue Jay Campground and back to Chiquita for the return trip.  We chose more mileage.  But first, Michael was attacked by fire ants as we tried to set up our cameras for “group” photos.  Ouch!

San Juan Trail, all ridiculously uphill and seemingly never ending was hot as well.  Mountain bikers made their way down the single track as I focused on not tripping over the rocky terrain.  At each turn I thought we were at the trailhead, only to find – No!  There was more to run in this heat.  Finally, we could see campgrounds and we simply ran right through the hillside into the campground, cutting off approximately a half mile from this run.

Mushrooms on San Juan Trail: 

Blue Jay Campground seemed like a a 5 Star hotel to me.  A cool breeze blew.  There were trash cans to empty my pockets.  There were outhouses.  There were people.  And there was even running water. 

Well, the “down hill” trip back was not all down hill.  And when it was downhill, it was usually rocky and difficult to traverse.  On our way back to Chiquita, we came to the 4-way fork that I asked Michael to mark on our way in, because I lose my sense of direction there and have twice taken a wrong turn in the past.  Sure enough, I had no sense of direction when we arrived to the markers.  Had Michael not marked it, I would have surely chosen a wrong turn.  Funny.  Even with the markers, I began to run down the wrong trail!!

It was hot and I was growing extremely tired.  I wasn’t the only one.  Two mountain bikers (male & female) were sitting in the shade on the rocky trail, looking utterly fatigued.  They complained that they were “so hot,” and asked were they could find water.  They each had two bottles of water – one of them empty, the other with some water remaining.  When Michael pointed out the quickest way into Blue Jay, they took one look at that giant hill we had just run down and said, “No way, we’re not going up there for water.” 

It’s good the two were sitting in shade.  But they still had the trip to make back to the candy store.  I urged them to make the hike into Blue Jay.  “Just leave your bikes here,” I suggested.  They didn’t look like they’d be able to make the 8 plus miles back to the parking lot with the little water they had.  I hope the two rested a good long while and took our advice and hiked into Blue Jay.  We didn’t come across them again.

And we were off on the long, long HOT trip “down” Chiquita Trail with Michael taking the lead.  After a few miles, I suddenly came upon Michael standing on the single-track facing two hikers.  “We’ve got a rattler here,”’ he said.  I could hear its rattles from several feet away.  “Do you think I can get a picture?”  I asked and everyone laughed.  Turns out, I couldn’t get a picture.  And I was a little bummed about that.   

I really don’t fear rattlesnakes.  That’s not to say I don’t fear being stricken by one.  The best thing that can happen with a rattler is that you see it from a safe distance.  And we were at a safe distance.  As I moved in closer to see it coiled up in the brush, the two hikers nervously backed away.  I asked Michael if he could tell how big it was.  He said he thought it was about four feet long.  Well, I gave it an extra couple feet just in case, which means it’s striking distance would be about 3 feet or a little more.  The trail was about three feet wide, so I hiked up onto the bank on the opposite side of the trail as the frightened snake rattled away.  Now, not only would the rattlesnake have to strike more than three feet – he would have to strike me up hill!  (They can supposedly strike further down hill).  The two hikers looked at me like I was absolutely crazy.  Michael followed right behind me to pass the danger.  When I told the hikers that a rattler can only strike a little more than half it’s size, they too hiked up on the bank.  They looked back at us nervously.  “Just give them their space and you’ll be fine.” 

And then Michael and I continued to run – run in the heat and on the rocky, miserable terrain.  I was so dang tired, it would have felt good to walk the entire remaining miles, but with about three miles remaining, I wanted to get back ASAP.  My fluids were gone.

The “down hill” back to The Candy Store:

The last three miles were excruciatingly difficult.  We hiked some, we trotted some, we ran some.  Michael got out ahead often, but I could see him stop and look back.  It really was wonderfully miserable.  And when I thought I could no longer take it,  I looked around me to take in the beauty.  I dreamt of the ice-cold Gatorade in my truck.  And I refused to look at my garmin..  I also concentrated breathing through the nose, which worked very well since I ran so slowly.  It also helped to calm me down.  I tend to get a little anxious when the run gets super tough. 

The Beauty that surrounded us:   

The last mile was truly hellish for me.  No fluids and extreme heat, not to mention uphill terrain, was not a good mix.  But as Michael said, “One foot in front of the other, eventually we’ll make it.”  I think he was a little worried about my directions, especially since it TOOK SO LONG to catch even a glimpse of the parking lot. 

What a beautiful sight it was to see signs of the parking lot.  I actually hollared, “Woo-Whoo!” when my feet hit that pavement.

Finished (& a bit fatigued): 

Elevation Profile (19.11 miles):

And of course, the satellite (notice the wrong turn in the beginning, where the loop almost closes – LOL):

Sugarloaf Peak

Day 49:  I drove up Ortega Highway to Blue Jay campground for a run with Steve Harvey.  Our mission was to remove the trail markings from Big Baz’s 18k trail race that took place over the weekend.  We took off the bright orange ties from branches, smeared away chalk arrows in the dirt.  Of course, I had lots of fun too.  I rarely run this part of the mountains, basically only during Baz’s races.  The trails are a joy – technical, single-track.  Love it. 

What great fun it was to learn about some of Steve’s ultra running adventures.  The icing on the cake was his guided tour up to Sugarloaf Peak.  I’ve run past this peak in Baz’s races.  I didn’t know that it was THE Sugarloaf Peak.  And I’ve never actually made the rocky climb to the peak.  We could see for miles – miles and miles of lovely solitude.  

Steve taking the lead with sack in hand to hold the collected ties:

The scenery is so different on this part of the mountains with these huge orangish boulders protruding everywhere:

Heading up to Sugarloaf Peak:

View from the Peak:

Another tie to remove:

8.35 miles run (13.44 km):