Right Where I Want to Be

Being that I’m only running coastal hills when I run alone nowadays, on my one day this past weekend where I got to run, I headed off to Newport Coast to catch some trails. Not wanting to spend $13 in tolls, I drove Coast Highway through Laguna Beach and into Newport Coast, and then not wanting to pay $15 to park, I drove up Newport Coast to Ridge Park. This of course meant that I once again started my run at the top, which in turn meant for a hell of a climb out.

My route: From Laguna Wilderness -- Bommer Ridge, Emerald Canyon, Old Emerald Falls (or possibly Emerald Falls, I can’t remember which is which), then an unmarked trail to Moro Ridge in Crystal Cove Park, East Cut Away, Moro Canyon down to the crowded winter seashore. From there I took the ever so creatively named trail No-Dogs, to an even more cleverly named trail called No-Name for the final climb out. Whew. I was beat. But I was not broken.

The best part of it all . . . well, there were two best parts. First, as I ran down into Emerald Canyon, I ran beneath a red hawk as it soared high above, dipping here and there with the breeze. She was magnificent. And secondly, taking the unmarked trail was a thrill. It took me straight up the canyon side right onto Moro Ridge where I wanted to be. Actually, I was right where I wanted to be the entire time.

Emerald Canyon

Saturday I got back out for some trails in Laguna Wilderness.  Still not running, though I did run a couple of hills on this trip.  And I kept the cast splint off again, as even though I cannot straighten my arm yet, I really need to be able to swing it some.  With the cast, swinging is difficult but with it tightly wrapped I can get some movement in. 

I started off on Bommer Ridge and made it to my favorite ridge in this area, Moro Ridge with its gorgeous 180 degree ocean views.  But this time, instead of taking Moro Ridge to the end, I took an unmarked single track to my left after travelling the ridge for about a mile. 

This unmarked single track was a lovely piece of work with lots of rocks and a clear shot of Emerald Canyon, which I have not ventured to in years.   At times the trail got so steep and technical that I got down on my behind and scooted down.  I just cannot risk falling right now. 

This unmarked single track dumped out smack in the middle of Emerald Canyon, right near a bridge that I have never seen before.  Apparently, it was built about two years ago (according to a trail runner I came up on). It is a bridge to nowhere as this trail runner put it.  And indeed it is, but a gorgeous single track to nowhere.  You see, Emerald Canyon trail abruptly ends at a giant chain-link fence with an exclusive Laguna Beach neighborhood on the other side.

For the trip back, (which was a five mile uphill trek), I decided to take Old Emerald Falls, an old favorite of mine, which winds through a giant meadow and up another rocky single track to Moro Ridge.  From there, I hopped onto Missing Link, which I regretted with its constant ups and downs (I was dang tired).  But, thankfully, that little detour ended up cutting my trek short by about a half a mile.  I was ready for a nap!

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.

Should Have Turned Back!

I went out for 16 trail miles late this morning.  I was READY.  I had my fluids, my calories.  Hubby was going to pick up the boys from school.  Opting for something semi-different today, I decided on El Moro (the coastal hills in Newport Beach).  Unfamiliar with the trail mileage there, I had only a general plan in mind. 

I ran along a lonely, sunny Bommer Ridge, hopeful for a nice fulfilling run.  I admired the Top of the World across Laguna Canyon.  I looked at Santiago Peak wistfully.  Then I decided to tune-in and look into El Moro Canyon.  That’s when I realized I had missed my trail.  So I turned around and took the first unmarked trail down into Emerald Canyon.  I thought Old Emerald was unmarked, though I wasn’t sure.  But this sure seemed like Old Emerald . . . AT FIRST. 

The trail grew tighter and steeper. And I began to think I had taken the wrong trail.  I broke my own rule concerning situations like this.   I should have turned back.  Oh how I should have turned back. 

Running down what I thought was Old Emerald Trail:

It grew so steep, I slipped and fell.  I had to scoot down over large boulders.  The brush grew thicker  and I found myself sliding, face forward.  And when I landed on my behind, sticks and small branches slipped beneath my shorts and underwear and stabbed my bear butt.  Ouch.

And then I found myself boxed in.  I really, really should have hiked back up to the ridge.  But I was so worn out, I just couldn’t do it.  Big mistake. I followed all forks to discover the brush impenetrable.  Eventually, I spied a trail through the thickness, a trail that I recognized as Emerald Falls (Or maybe it’s called Emerald Canyon).  Either way, it’s a portion of the trail that has been closed for a couple years, so destroyed it was by massive rains.  If only I could get to this trail I could get back on track.  But a large ravine with ten foot walls separated me from this trail, not to mention, massive brush growth. 

I

I managed my way into the ravine, falling of course.  I popped up right away and scoured the area, left and right for a way up to the other side.  There was absolutely NO WAY up.  But I did notice a tree in the distance growing next to the edge.  Holding my handheld with my teeth, I grabbed a branch with both arms, pulled myself up  and climbed the trunk with my legs.  I sat in v-section for a bit to gather my wits.  Then I scooted from the tree to the bank’s edge.  Really.  No lie. 

Popping up after my slide-fall-run into the ravine:

My tree:

Yup, sitting in the tree (got to document it all! : )

Now on the the other side, I’ll tell you – I STILL SHOULD HAVE TURNED BACK.  I was stuck in the midst of a tight thicket.  A thin, thorny vine wrapped me like a cocoon.  “Push through it,” I told myself.  “Push.”  Everything time I tried to break through, the vines tightened and tore at my skin and clothing.  I thought about reaching into the back of my pack to see if I packed my knife.  But I was growing so weary, I didn’t think I could reach back.  I used my hat to push down some of the brush on my right side.  Then struggling, I lifted my right leg high and stomped down on the brush.  I did the same with my left side, and continued on this way until I finally made it to the trail.  I was beat. 

The trails won today.  I don’t usually consider myself playing against the trails.  I play with the trails.  But there are those days like today . . . when I should have turned back!

“Get me the heck home,” was all I could think.  My legs were bloody and scratched.  Welts covered my arms and legs as well.  I wanted so badly to madly sob.  But I really just didn’t have the energy.  The only thing I had the energy to do was run.  I kicked up my feet and ran back up to the ridge and all the way back to my truck, for a total of 8 miles today. 

I’ve been “out of sorts” all day.  Why, why, why, do I break my own rules?  I thought I learned in Texas when I got lost, that I need to turn back and go the same way I came AS SOON AS I REALIZE I’M OFF-TRACK.

It’s not just trail running . . . IT’S AN ADVENTURE!

Finally making it to the trail:

A last glimpse at Santiago Peak:

Just about a mile left:

I am done

First off, I am not done with physical therapy as hoped.  The hip still aches (though my back is good).  Every time I run or pretty much do any activity, my pelvis rotates forward.  But now I know how to align it by myself.  Secondly, I’ve mentioned already my infected toe.  But I have neglected to write how I came upon that misfortune. 

The exciting history of the toe (left foot, next to pinkie):  It started with a callus, a perfectly normal occurrence with me.  But then I accidentally kicked the sharp corner of an enormously heavy lawyer’s case in my bedroom.  Okay.  That hurt.  BUT THEN, while cleaning out my boys’ closet I swiped that same toe across one of the bows my husband made (as in bow and arrow kind of bow) which put a nice slice in that same toe!

I ignored it.  Because I’m good at that.  I slapped on a Band-Aid, continued to run and limp around afterwards.  Then one day about a week ago, my husband demanded a look and dealt with it – my toe was infected and full of puss.  While I wiggled and hollered, he sliced the bubble of puss open and drained it.  Afterward, I soaked it several times a day in hydrogen peroxide, slapped anti-biotic ointment and a Band-Aid on, and continued to run.

To make a long story a tad shorter, my doctor says it’s called Paronychia.  He prescribed antibiotics and suggested that I not run this morning. 

5:00 AM I was up dressing for a trail run.  I bandaged the toe and was driving to El Moro – Ridge Park for an Emerald Bay run by 5:30 AM.  The fog covered the roads so thick it was distracting.  (I very much dislike driving in thick fog).  The weather was down right cold and gray at the park.  But that was lovely for a run.

We had five in our group today:  Myself, Sheila, Tom, Kelly and newcomer, Boris.  After taking the ridge for a bit, we headed down Emerald Falls Trail for an out-and-back down Emerald Canyon.  There was some bushwhacking, and gorgeous, yet eerily quiet trails.  The beauty immense, I was in a bit of trouble with the aching hip and toe.  By the time we were finished, I made the promise to myself (and out loud to my friends),  I am taking the whole week off from running.  Yes!  That’s what I said.  I’m not going to run until Bulldog.  Sounds crazy to me.  But I’ve got to do it.  So I decided, swimming only.  The P.T. says it will be great for the hip, and it also will do good not to have a shoe rubbing against my toe. 

Running Down Emerald Cyn

Taking in the Scenery

Heading Back on Emerald Falls Trail (One of the few flats back)

A beauty of a web – in person it resembled a piece of crystal art

Back at home again, I was overly cold.  I did my little march to find what I expected.  My right pelvis had rotated forward (down) at least an inch.  I got it aligned, soaked the toe.  A few hours later, still cold, but hip and toe much better, I crawled beneath a blanket and fell asleep for at least an hour.

So, there you have it.  I am done with running to train for Bulldog.  Adding 2 or three more tapered runs isn’t going to do me any good.  I need to get well, or I’m gonna fall flat on my face come next Saturday.

If any of you see me out on the trails – scold me!  You won’t be seeing though.  Like I said, I’m done.

Miles logged 9.75