Climbing Out

I know I have probably written it before, but I’ll say it again -- climbing out is hell. My preference is to do the elevation gain first (or even midway). Saving the climb for the end of a hike, run or hike-run is simply brutal for me. It is almost never fun. But in the end, the relief of it being over is so overwhelming, it makes it all worthwhile.

This particular route, a ten miler beginning and ending Laguna Wilderness with Crystal Cove Park picking up the mid part of the loop, starts off with nice and easy rolling hills. There was a few miles of this along Boomer Ridge, and then a few more along Moro Ridge. These first five miles or so were really lovely, with most of it sharing full ocean views. I saw my first rattler of the season during this portion. Then at 5.57 miles in I was finally at sea level, and the climb out began. Whew. Those last four and a half miles were a bear. My pace was a steady slow. Not slow run. Slow hike. And being that I’ve travelled up many long and steep inclines before, I grabbed onto the mantra, “This too shall pass.” And so, with one step in front of the other, over, and over and over again, I was back at my truck, feeling refreshed and not terribly beat up. And as I mentioned earlier, relieved!

April 7, 2018, 10.01 miles, 1,382’ elevation gain

Back on the Trail

For days after falling on Trabuco Trail, I had trouble falling to sleep. My mind kept returning to the moment of impact.  It seemed that just as I dozed off to sleep, I’d trip and fly into the floor, which jolted me awake.  I have not been having a great time.  Frazzled is a good word to describe my condition. 

And then we had our Christmas celebrations (Christmas Eve services, a family get-together on Christmas day), and everything came to a close.  Though I was happy to have spent an entire day with much of my family (my own children and husband, plus my parents, my sister and her family, and two of my brothers and famlies), I did not rest easy last night.  I had nightmares it seemed all night long – same theme, I was being attacked.  It was the same person that I could not see from my dream the morning of my trail accident.  I never saw him in my nightmares last night (or rather early this morning) as he always attacked in dark places, and then eventually, he started attacking me in my dreams.  Yes in my dreams, like Freddie Krueger did in those horror fliks.  Needless to say, I got little sleep, as every time I fell back to sleep it seemed that he was there to grab me. I woke the entire house with a loud scream and eventually decided I just didn’t want to risk falling back asleep again.  At 3:30 AM I surfed the internet until I couldn’t stay awake any longer.  And then I slept like a rock until 8:00AM. 

With such a big day yesterday, being Christmas Day, everyone was still sound asleep when I snuck out the door at 9:30 AM and headed for Ridge Park in Newport Beach.  The weather was cold, and the wind was fierce. I had to grip the steering wheel to avoid being pushed all over the tollroad.

When I arrived to Ridge Park, I realized that I had forgotten my jacket, and by the looks of all the runners and bikers bundled up in their jackets, beanies and gloves, I was gonna need more warmth.  Thank goodness my oldest son left his jacket in the backseat.  I was able to layer up.  (Note to self: don’t be such a hard-ass about the boys getting their things out of my truck!)

I hiked 10.56 miles with gorgeous ocean views.  My casted arm gave me little trouble, even without pain medication.  And actually, I was totally fine hiking this whole loop, as opposed to running.  Because, if there’s any chance of me doing Calico (and those chances are slim, slim, slim), I had better not re-injure the arm.  I even tripped once while hiking this loop, so I’m gonna hold off running for at least another week. (My next doctor’s appointment isn’t until January 4). 

Anyway, the park was super crowded with people, mainly hikers, some runners, some cyclists and some equestrians.  I think it’s good for now to go where people can be found.  I only found discomfort during the last three miles, and that was because I took off the jacket.  Since I had decided not to wear my sling (though I packed it), the jacket had provided much rest for my arm by putting my hand into the pocket. 

I felt good at the end of the hike, and probably could have pushed myself a lot harder. I was not even fatigued when it was over.  I think what’s most important though, was that I just got out there and moved. 

Route: Bommer Ridge, El Moro Ridge, BFI, No-Dogs, No-Name, Bommer Ridge.

Breaking Forty

Well, I did it.  This week I finally broke forty miles.  There was a time when that was common place.  Not anymore.  Imagine, I even contemplated throwing in the towel again – reminding myself that I don’t have to run.   At any time, I can chose to NOT run.  I find it healthy to remember this.  Well, it took me four runs to get in 44.4 miles, and I am glad for it (not to mention a tiny bit optimistic).

Monday (April 13), I drove up the coast through Laguna Beach then up Newport Coast for a run out of Ridge Park.  I took the long way because I didn’t want to pay the $6.50 toll.  I ran 11.78 miles (18.96 km) in total, taking off from Bommer Ridge, then El Moro Ridge where I stopped off at a World War II bunker and headed down B.F.I. (Big Friggin’ Incline).

I couldn’t resist running beneath the highway (Pacific Coast Highway) for a close-up look at the ocean.  After some relaxing time listening to the waves roll in and out, I headed up through the campground to check it out for a possible family outing.  Nice campgrounds, but no campfires allowed.  No campfires!  Can you imagine camping without a fire? 

After the campgrounds, I made the difficult three mile uphill trek back to the car.  So worn out was I that I didn’t care about a stinkin’ $6.50 toll and drove the toll road back home. 

Thursday (April 16), I ran out the front door for a run down at the beach.  I saw a woman pulling her huge luggage on wheels behind her up Pacific Coast Highway.  She asked directions as I passed her on the road and I could tell even behind her dark glasses that she was bawling her eyes out.  I helped pull her luggage back up the highway, and used her phone to call the bank she was trying to locate.  Turns out the bank was much too far for this woman to walk, especially with all her heavy luggage.  I contemplated walking her back to my house so that I could drive her, but I didn’t need to, because while I phone, the bank manager said that he’d drive out to pick her up.  I walked the recently widowed woman up the highway further and waited with her until the bank manager showed.  When he arrived, he appeared like a knight-in-shining-armor – tall, dark and handsome.  (I did get the details on this woman’s situation, as we had a lot of time to talk.  The details are so sad and too complicated to relay here, and though, I feared “handing” her off to a stranger, I got his name and make of car, and felt overall confident that he was safe).  This small adventure derailed my running plans, but I was able to get in 5.30 miles (8.53 km) along the California Coast. 

Friday (April 17), I planned for a long run, setting out in Aliso Canyon around ten AM.  The skies were blue and the tall brown grass sang in the wind. From Wood Canyon, I quickly turned onto Meadows Trail (my old-time favorite) and ran along the overgrown single-track to Mentally Sensitive Trail.  The trek up that steep trail was excruciating.  It took me about twenty minutes longer than usual.  That was a good thing, because before I had a chance to commit to my long loop, I received a text from my husband stating that his car didn’t start.  This meant that I had make a smaller loop, heading back down Meadows for a nice long switchback down into Wood Canyon.  I got 7.69 miles in (12.38 km) and made it to my youngest son’s school just in time for his pick-up. 

Saturday (April 18), I was back at Aliso/Wood Canyons (this time at 12:30 PM)  for a long run up Wood Canyon, Cholla and West Ridge to Top of the World.  That was about 7.25 miles of hot uphill running.  On the ridge I ran through a swarm of bees, which startled me at first.  But then the scene brought back lovely memories of running through swarms of bees on trails in years past.  At The Top of the World, I took in the view and then turned around and headed back the same way for a total of 14.53 miles (23.38 km).  This run kicked my butt.  But when I calculated my week’s totals back at home, I came in a little over 39 miles.  This meant of course, I needed to get out one more day this week. 

Sunday – today! (April 19), I ran straight out the front door at about 3 PM and ran 5.10 miles (8.21 km) along the beach.  It was a tough run, but easy terrain-wise.  I kept up a decent pace, but felt still slightly sluggish. And that was it – my forty miles done – happily struggling along, “embracing the suck,” every last mile of it. 

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. 

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):

Day One

Ambitious for ambition, I decided today to start streaking.  No, not running nude.  Running consecutive days.  After my last streak (that ended with 56 days), I thought, “Did that.  Don’t need to do it again.” 

Well, I think I do need to do that again.  I need to kick-start my fitness.  I need to kick-start my love of running.  I don’t know how long I will streak.  Perhaps I will try and break my record. 

Day one of my streak I got a late start in Laguna Coast Wilderness.  9 AM weather was still cool, the skies were overcast.  I set out on Bommer Ridge amongst several hikers, mountain bikers and runners.  Yes, runners!  I saw more runners on the trail today than I think I’ve ever seen on a trail run.  Within an hour, I probably came upon twenty runners.  Festive!  About that time, the sun broke through the clouds too.

View from Bommer Ridge:

The weather warmed up tremendously before I turned off onto Old Emerald, a lovely single track that winds down into Emerald Canyon.  Mountain bikers flew by me all the way down.  I lost them in Emerald Canyon when I turned off onto Old Emerald Falls.  The bikers continued up Emerald Canyon back to Bommer Ridge .

Old Emerald Trail:

Heat bared down even harder as I ran Old Emerald Falls.  To make matters even more difficult, the landscape was dry and exposed.  My pack contained plenty of fluids, but I really could have used some ice in my cap.  I took in a lot more heat than I expected and looked forward for this never ending lonely trail to end.  Not a pleasant experience.

Old Emerald Falls (I have no idea where the falls are/were!):

Matters didn’t improve much when I finally hit El Moro.  I really don’t think there’s a single piece of shade on that trail.  After a while, I began to think I was running the longest trail ever!  When I finally got a look at the grand Pacific Ocean, I was ready to jump head first into it.  I would have if I could have.  My saving grace was an occasional breeze.

I ran into the parking lot on my way to No Name Ridge where I would close in this giant loop.  I guzzled down at the water fountain and washed my face with cold water in the restroom.  With about half my fluids remaining, I didn’t refill my pack.  Why didn’t I refill my pack?  Because I was lazy.  Yes, LAZY.  I broke one of my hard fast rules, which to ALWAYS refill.  I paid for this big time. 

The heat continued to bare down on during those last four up hill miles.  With about two miles left, I sucked down that last of it.  All I could think about was water.  Water and shade.  I brought my energy level way down.  And I finally found a bit of shade beneath a kiosk where I sat to cool down for a few minutes. 

I knew I wasn’t going to die or stroke out or anything like that.  There were plenty of hikers at this point, that if my situation got crucial, I could beg water off.  Still, the last two miles were pretty dang miserable. 

Making my way up No Name Ridge on my way back to the truck:

My little piece of shade:

I made it to a drinking fountain before my truck.  After guzzling down I washed my face.  Then I guzzled down more.  Feeling better, I took off my hot shoes and socks, and relaxed in an air-conditioned car before taking off for home. 

Day one was a huge struggle. 

After a cold bath at home, I’m all better.

 

The loop:  Boomer Ridge, Old Emerald, Emerald Canyon, Old Emerald Falls, El Moro Ridge, B.F.I., No Dogs, No Name Ridge.