Sleeping it Off

I still have not recovered from my illness.  And I take full credit for that.  I have not been eating right, nor have I been sleeping right.  Much is going on, lots good, some not good at all.  Personal life is good.  It’s the professional life that has been of concern.  (More on that later . . . if I get around to it – hopefully, I will never get around to it, but instead will bask in the greatness of family and friends and oh yes, lest I forget . . . trails).

This past weekend, I had hoped to get in some mountain trails.  I think that it’s good that I did not.  I really need to get well.  Sleep, I believe is such a good cure-all for illness (and other things too).  So, I decided to take a bit of that medicine both days this past weekend.  Saturday, slept in and hit the gym later in the afternoon.  Sunday, slept in, and drove through downtown Laguna Beach around 10AM headed for Crystal Cove / Laguna Wilderness. 

I don’t like to run coastal hills on the weekends.  Why?  Two words:  mountain bikers.  Too many of them race irresponsibly fast on the local trails.  Sorry.  It’s the truth.  All a runner has to do is trip and fall in their path, and they are dead.  Seriously.  It’s that bad. 

I was not disappointed on Sunday in Laguna Wilderness.  Bikers raced along Bommer Ridge like there was no tomorrow – and there were no apologies.  Feeling so annoyed at one point, I really wanted to take a fist full of dirt and throw it in a biker’s face.  Of course, I would never do that.  But I thought it.  Is that bad?

Thankfully, I turned off onto Moro Ridge, which was lonely, and oh so lovely, occasionally encountering a hiker or five, and hikers are always oh so polite.  Love them. 

Moro Ridge:

From Moro Ridge, I took East Cut-Away for a fast, truck-trail run into Moro Canyon.  And once in Moro Canyon, I couldn’t help but run to the seashore for some sand stepping. 

I really am a lucky lady. 

And Chimera is just around the corner.  Can’t wait!!!

Miles run:  11

Elevation gained:  1,450’

Marijuana Bust

Friday I got out by noon and drove along the toll road for a run in Crystal Cove and Laguna Wilderness.  I had forgotten that nearly every time I run there I think I will never return.  Why?  Because so dang little shade.  Somehow, I always find my way back, and smack in the middle of a summer afternoon.

I arrived to Ridge Park, the hills in Irvine/Newport that overlook Newport Coast, amidst loud and chaotic excitement.  A couple helicopters flew above dumping marijuana plants onto a pile in the middle of the road.  Police vehicles and news vans crowded the streets.  To top it off, spectators drove in and out of the one opened area, laughing and talking, excited about the smell of marijuana in the air. 

The marijuana fragrance was strong and stayed with me for a while on the dry hot trails.  I ran right through the commotion, thinking that law enforcement would stop me.  They didn’t, but I did notice a news camera following with its lens, and I thought, “FUDGE!  I don’t want to be on the news.”  (I didn’t quite use the word “fudge.”)

It wasn’t long before I was away from all the commotion.  I saw very few runners or hikers on the trails.  Understandably.  It was just too hot.  I wondered how on earth farmers were able to grow illegal crops in this mostly brown, exposed wilderness area.  How did they water the approximate 4,000 plants.  How were they going to harvest without being detected? 

I arrived at the bottom taking No-Name Ridge and No-Dogs a little overheated.  I decided to take El Moro Canyon back up to Bommer Ridge (the shorter choice), scratching my original plans to run past the canyon and straight up to Moro Ridge.  I’m not sure the canyon route was the best choice.  I felt like I was running in an oven.  On a ridge I would have at least experienced a breeze.  

No-Name Ridge:

No-Dogs Trail:

Making my way through the canyon & stopping in the first bit of shade:

Much needed shade (& this was about all of it):

With about a quarter mile left before reaching Bommer Ridge, I konked out.  Light headed, I needed to cool off my body temperature.  It appeared that I let heat exhaustion overcome me once again.  Dang it.  Sitting in the shade, I took in a nice breeze and it seemed my temperature cooled quickly.  After about ten minutes, I finally got to my feet and slowly ran the additional 1.5 miles to the truck. 

Recuperating, waiting or my temperature to drop:

Oh!  And I was on the news – a Spanish language station.  A running friend, Conrado, took a picture of his television as I ran across the screen, and sent it to me via facebook.

Rolling Ridges

I felt at a loss where to run this morning.  I’ve had too much of Aliso/Wood Canyons, its shady groves, spring flowers, creek crossings and wretched climbs and descents to and from the ridge.  I’ve had about enough of Arroyo Trabuco trail too, with its multitude of creek crossings, lush groves and relatively flat terrain.  This morning it was, “Ho hum, where do I run?”

I suspect hubby could tell that I was approaching the door to the blues.  I’m guessing that’s why he handed over his debit card and said, “Get some gas and go run in the mountains.”  I took it in a heartbeat (I have yet to get the bank to get my own debit card).  But then I took so long getting out of the house, I opted for something entirely different – a run in Crystal Cove and Laguna wilderness.  This time though, I didn’t pay the exorbitant cost of the toll road.  I took the long way and drove through Laguna Beach. 

Wonderful Laguna Beach. 

Many, many years ago, before our three boys were born, I drove every day through Laguna Beach to get to my job in Irvine.  Oh, how I longed to be one of those wanderers strolling along the boulevard as I drove bumper-to-bumper, puffing cigarette smoke out the open window of my Toyota Corolla.  The Greeter, the original greeter, an endearing old man, stood on a corner and waved at me every single day as I drove by.  He waved at everyone.  For years.   And years. 

This morning as I drove though this town, I couldn’t help delight in the idea that I am one of those wanderers now (not exactly how I imagined, but I am).  The greeter is no longer on this earth.  But a larger than life statue stands on the road replicating his wave.  In front of that statue, stood another man this morning.  He wore a red coat as he waved at the drivers moving along Highway One.  Sure, he wasn’t the original.  But he put a smile on my face, just as the original greeter had so many times. 

Oh ya!  Lest I forget . . . I ran today.   I made a three-ridge loop (with a connector trail along the way).  Though I was still tired from yesterday, I enjoyed every perspire of sweat.

First, I ran along Bommer Ridge, high about the Pacific Ocean.  It’s a mainly downhill ridge, rolling though, with some up’s. 

Bommer Ridge:

After Bommer Ridge, I hopped onto El Moro Ridge.  It’s more rolling than Bommer, and heads directly toward the ocean.  I spied many coyote and bobcat tracks.  I explored the campgrounds.  And I stopped to photo this green meadow:

El Moro Ridge:

From El Moro Ridge, I took B.F.I., which stand’s for Big F’ing Incline.  For me it was all down hill.  I stopped for at bit at the WWII bunker.  Ate my snack there as I gazed down at the Pacific.  Then I was off again, headed for the BIG rolling climb up No-Name Ridge.

View from B.F.I. bunker:

I took no pictures (prisoners?) from No-Name Ridge.  I found the climb quite taxing.  I ran when I could.  When the ascents were too steep, I practiced my power hiking.  In all, I covered 9.82 miles on this loop.  And as usual, I believe I’m better for it. 

The Cost of Trail Running

Day 25 of my Fitness Streak, it appears I’m getting my running legs back.  Right now, I’m darn near ready to crash and sleep.  My lids are so heavy, I’m not even sure what I’m typing.

I decided for a change of scenery this morning and headed off to Newport Coast.  I took the toll road and made an effort to look at the toll cost as I drove through the sensor.  One way cost me $6.75.  Yikes!  Double that for the entire trip and that’s a good chunk to add to the cost of today’s trail run.  This hardly fazed me.  I learned early on, that despite my initial thoughts, running is not free – especially trail running.  Seems like I’m constantly forking out cash for small ticket items and large – fuel (like gels, bars), electrolytes, hats, sunglasses, athletic tape, pack, pack essentials like pepper spray, etc., etc.  The cost is worth it though – what I get in return is priceless.  

At about mile 3, heading down to the ocean:

A quick stop at the beach:

Heading back up El Moro Canyon back to Bommer Ridge to complete today’s loop:

9.67 miles of happy times:

A New Loop

Some time ago a new loop popped into my head, a lollipop loop actually.  My idea was to connect two trails that I’ve run (Bommer Ridge and Laurel Canyon) with a trail that I haven’t run (Willow) in Laguna Wilderness.  Though I did glance at the map to make sure I could connect these trails (they meet at a staging area), I didn’t bother to calculate mileage.  I like some mystery (but I figured between 6 and 10 miles).  Anyway, I finally decided to do this loop today, on probably the hottest day of the year.    First off, I ran to the public restrooms and was already overheated.

Bommer Ridge gave me spectacular ocean views to my right and some ocean breezes.  To my left I couldn’t help but glance occasionally at The Saddleback Mountains.  On Willow I began to make my way down, down, down, BENEATH THE RIDGE, away from the ocean breezes. 

Running Bommer Ridge:

Willow is definitely not a summer trail, especially in 99f degrees.  With very little shade to be found, my downhill pace was much slower than usual.  I came upon a couple hikers here and there, all dressed too warm in my opinion.  Though a few ladies carried parasols.  I certainly would not rate Willow very high from today’s run.  And I probably won’t return, if I do, until the wintertime.

Willow Trail:

Much needed shade:

So happy to come upon the staging area for some more shade (notice the bunny ):

But then the climb up Laurel Canyon began – whew!

In all, this new loop measured 8.08 miles.  I would have liked 10 miles, but I was happy enough to quit at 8.08.  I came upon one lonely hiker as I ran up Bommer to the trailhead.  He said, “It’s hot!”  To which I replied, “Yup, it’s an oven back there.”

The lollipop:

A Marina Run and a WWII Bunker

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

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

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

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

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

Climbing B.F.I.

Still climbing B.F.I.

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

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

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