Thirty Days!

Yes, I did make thirty days of my Easter Streak – ran every day for the month of April.  I got out late morning on Wednesday, April 30, in the midst of a heat wave.  And I took off up Arroyo Trabuco Trail for the final run of my streak.

My Gateway to Arroyo Trabuco Trail (in the parking lot of a strip mall in Las Flores, behind a Taco Bell & some other establishments):

The best thing about Day 30’s run was that I got shade.  Lots of it.  Oh, the glory!  What would I do without shade?

I ran through cool, dark hallways of shade for about three miles.  My goal was to run around ten miles – that way, I’d hit my “pie in the sky.”  What, you may ask, was my “pie in the sky?”  The answer: breaking 170 miles for the month.  I didn’t want to merely hit 170.  I wanted to bust through the door.  I haven’t done that in a long time. 

The coolness of these trails helped me to get my groove when I thought I wasn’t going to get my groove.  And just when I felt a comfortable confidence on these refreshing trails amidst sweltering heat, I kissed the dirt.

Oh no!  That’s right.  I tripped on a rock while running slightly downhill, and I flew through the air.  Astonished that I was falling, I fought the fall, and it turned out badly.  There was no semblance of a roll.  No, there was only forward momentum.  Then a thud.  Then another thud.  And one more for good measure.

The few seconds of impact jarred me so much, I didn’t immediately hop back up.  That took another couple seconds.  And then I sobbed as I searched about for a place to sit.  I don’t know why, but I didn’t want to sit in the dirt.  I think that it was just too far away.  So, I wandered up the trail a bit.  The fall rattled my body and brain to an extent that I wasn’t sure what to do.  I needed to talk to someone.

About a tenth of a mile later, I found a log to sit upon and phoned my husband.  He’s received these calls from me before – not terribly often, but enough to get directly to the important questions.  Where are you?  Did you hit your head?  Eventually, he said that I should come home.  But . . . 170.  I wanted to break 170!

And so I ran.  When my husband texted me that I was a “badass,” I texted back, “Not Really.”  And I ran some more with an aching knee (but not too bad) and a throbbing arm.  What I wanted more than anything was to wash the wounds.  But my wounds were open, and I didn’t want to give bacteria in the streams direct access into my body.  I did take the time however, to “document” what I could with photos.

I ran Arroyo Trabuco on into O’Neill park.  Relief set in because finally, I was able to wash my wounds.  And they did NOT feel better after that.  In fact, it was just when I was feeling better that I went and washed my arms and legs with soap and water.  The dull aching immediately returned.  Oh well, it was time to suck it up.  I had 6.5 miles left on the back portion of my Arroyo Trabuco out-and-back. 

Arroyo Trabuco with a view of the Saddleback Mountains (not very shady here, of course as it would be, hot and sunny during the most painful portion of my run):

I made it back to my truck dinged.  I think I lost more than the usual amount of brain cells in this adventure.  I did though, get in a little over thirteen miles. The remainder of the day, I ached all over.

The next day, I felt as if I were in an automobile accident – like my whole body had lurched forward and hit the dashboard.  I thought about running, but then decided, that’s it.  I have accomplished what I set out to do – I ran every day for the month of April.  I had to fight an inner battle not to run on Thursday.  I went to the gym instead and worked-out on the elliptical crossramp.  After 5 miles, I said, “That’s enough of that!” and went home feeling achy, like I was coming down with the flu.

My arm wound felt warm all day, and that night I felt like I had a mild grade flu.  It was a wonderful night of celebration for the family however, as we all went to watch our son perform with his high school chamber group (our oldest plays violin).  Back home late, I continued to pick out tiny pebbles from my arm.  My husband poked around, as I winced in pain, for pus.  Then I dosed the hardening scab with hydrogen peroxide.  Finally today, so many, many hours later, I am feeling better. 

Thanks to all for reading the wondrous journey of my running for 30 consecutive days.  I loved it.  At the same time, I am just slightly relieved its over.

ps.  I hit 177.41 miles  (285.51 km) for the month of April. 

Mission Unaccomplished

First mission unaccomplished was my original plan to wake at the crack of dawn and go for a mountain run.  I did wake at the crack of dawn (actually before dawn).  I could not however, walk due to the pain in my foot.  I pushed myself from wall to wall to move about the house.  Even though I knew my foot would probably get better (it’s always the worst when I wake), this disheartened trail runner went back to sleep.

I woke again several hours later feeling way, way down in the dumps.

I didn’t have a good morning.

I didn’t have a great early afternoon.

Eventually, I laced up my shoes and ran out the door for a run along some of our beaches.  Yes, that’s right.  I opted for sidewalk and sand over dirt trails.  I felt a bit sluggish but enjoyed my time running the city streets.  One thing I noticed was that it was LOUD with all sorts of noises:  car motors, people talking, dogs barking.  But it was also beautiful.  I live in a gorgeous city.

 Beach Access:

Even though I see the Pacific Ocean every day, catching first glimpse of white water at Salt Creek Beach on my run this afternoon was breathtaking. 

After running Salt Creek’s crowded sand, I turned the corner for a run along Dana Strands.  Off in the distance I focused on the headlands, Dana Point’s famous headlands.  I’ve run on top of them, I’ve near and around them on both sides.  But it’s been a long, long time since I’ve gone around them.  It’s a daunting task, and probably shouldn’t be done alone.  The rocks are steep and jagged, and the way is very slippery.  On the plus side, there’s a private little beach where I could get my quiet solitude that I missed from trails.  I was game and a little giddy about it!  The tide seemed low enough to make it.  And I figured I’d be okay because I’d climb carefully and would certainly turn back if the tide was too high.

The Headlands:

Making my way along the base, prepared and confident for my first climb:

The First Big Climb (not so difficult, but slippery and a fall could mean a plunge into the ocean):

After making that first climb, this is where I stood – absolute bliss:

The front base of the headlands was numerous with tide pools as I remembered.  Occasionally, a wave crashed up on the plateau as I made my way across.  The work was difficult, as I needed to use both lower and upper body strength to make my way up and down the sharp boulders. 

With a water bottle in one hand, I clicked the camera in my other.  My private beach was now in view when I stopped for a few last pictures before descending down the plateau’s rocky edge.  I jumped that last step, as it was too far down to reach.  When I landed I took another step (I think) and then I don’t know what happened.  I remember realizing that I was losing my balance, and then I went down, down as in tumbled down over the sharp, jagged rocks.  My knee, my arm, my shin, they all took terrible hits.  Then on the last tumble, I flew right down into a gigantic tide pool.  I went under, fully submerged, taking my camera and phone with me and a big gulp of salt water. 

In utter disbelief, I quickly jumped out.  I stood there with my sopping wet camera in my hand and cried.  Blood streamed from a gash in my right shin.  My right knee as well ached with a minor scrape revealing itself right away.  And my right arm, specifically my elbow was bleeding.  I was most worried about my camera.

Okay, take control, Lauren.  That’s what I told myself.  I stopped crying and decided that I should not continue the journey.  I chose to carefully make my way back and call my husband for a ride home.  That is what I did.  Back at home, he cleaned me up, disinfected beneath the torn pieces of flesh on my elbow and arm. 

I didn’t break any bones.  I have worn my right arm in a sling all night.  The arm is swollen and ugly.  Ibuprofen did wonders.  So did a warm blanket.

These were two of the questions I got from my family:

My husband asked, “Were you scared?”  Funny, that’s one thing I wasn’t.  I never felt scared.  I felt surprised.  I felt sad.  And I felt angry.  And then finally relief.  But I never felt scared (too stupid to be scared ).

My middle son asked, “Did you almost drown?”  No, I didn’t come anywhere near drowning.  Even the gulp of seawater that I took in didn’t take my breath away.  Thank God I didn’t hit my head.  If I knocked myself out, there could have been much more dire consequences. 

Well, there you have it.  My missions unaccomplished today.  I did get in a 6.25 mile run.  So that is good.  My husband rescued me.  And that was good.  And I seemingly haven’t broken anything, and that is good.

Here’s one last picture, probably the last one I took.  Off in the distance is the private beach where I wanted to take in some silence.  My fall occurred probably about twenty five feet from my position.  It is beautiful, don’t you think?

Brutal!

I knew the third consecutive run of “Hard” week would be difficult.  I didn’t think the run would be brutal.  Ten miles, that’s all the plan said.  But I decided to run my ten miles on a Holy Jim Out-And-Back.  That’s a five mile trail in The Saddleback Mountains that ends at The Main Divide (Bear Springs).  It’s a tough five miles up (even down).  I’ve got it down now that I can usually run it all. 

I didn’t feel rested this morning, as I haven’t been sleeping well.  And I felt a little weak.  "Don’t care about time,” I told myself, “just do the miles.”

Slightly muggy and a little cool at the same time, about a thousand, yes ONE THOUSAND gnats decided to accompany me during the first two miles of Holy Jim.  I’m sure that I breathed in half a dozen through my nose. 

The downed tree still blocked Holy Jim just after the water falls turnoff.  That was delightful, hiking up the mountainside with a thousand gnats buzzing my face so that I could get around the tree.  I pushed it a little harder, though my pace was still slow, just to get away from those tiny bugs.

I tired easily running up that switch-back that I used to call “Holy Crap” instead of Holy Jim.  Today it felt once again like “Holy Crap.”  I felt a little light-headed and even hiked a few portions of single track.  Then I finally settled in and began enjoying the immense views.

I don’t know how this occurred, but at about 3.5 miles up, my camera flew out of my hand and off of the mountain.  You can imagine my horror as I looked down the side to see it resting lightly on a small tumbleweed-like plant.  The camera was probably about twenty feet down, so I needed to get down there.  Somehow.  I stood sideways at the edge figuring the best way to get down to my camera when the ground beneath me gave away.  I immediately fell and began sliding.  I quickly slid past my camera, unable to reach it.  I grabbed at plants on the way down to easily uproot everyone of them.  This slope was not secure!  Everything I touched went down with me. 

Many, many things go through my mind when stuff like this happen.  I knew instinctively to push my body into the mountainside.  I didn’t want to go airborne.  And I also knew instinctively to dig, dig, dig my foot into the mountain wall as I slid.  What I thought was this:  “Dang it!  It’s going to take ‘them’ forever to find me if I slide all the way to the ravine!”  I even kind of chuckled over the fine mess that I had found myself in.  My main thought, not really thought, but feeling was, “Don’t fall backward!” 

I finally dug my foot deep enough into the slope to stop my sliding.  And I began the slow process of digging in and climbing back up.  I looked for my camera on the way, didn’t see it at first.  Apparently, it slid some too in my avalanche.  Thank goodness there it was laying, as if not a care in the world, in that loosened plant, it’s lens still extended.  (Also, thank goodness I bought that extended in-case-you-throw-your-camera-off-a-mountain-and-break-it warranty). 

Climbing back up onto the trail, I found myself covered in dirt.  I had a minor cut on my left hand, a gash on right elbow (with a tiny bit of skin flapping),and welts up and down my left arm (that I didn’t notice until I got home).

Needless to say, the remaining trip to Bear Springs was excruciating!  Fatigue overwhelmed me, but eventually I made it.  I walked about on top, into the sun mainly to get away from my newly found gnat friends.  You can’t imagine how dang glad I was to have reached the top.  It was only five miles, but heck, what a brutal five miles.   I ran back so, so, so happy that I had only five miles left of mostly downhill.  And best of all, my camera still worked (for now!). 

I made decent (not good) time on the way back, especially considering my fatigue.  I even worked (ever so slightly) on my pivots around the switch-back turns.  And then of course those ONE THOUSAND gnats were back to greet me and run in the last two miles of this brutal run. 

Back In The Vest

Today, I put back on my vest.  With 64 fluid ounces of water, a few gels, my camera, phone, tissues, Nuun tablets and more, it felt heavy on my back. About a mile in, my good ole’ vest felt just like normal.  And I was back to normal, hocking loogies off the trail.  What is going on with me? 

This morning the weather was hot, the skies blue.  I decided to run a clockwise loop up Meadows at Aliso/Wood Canyons.  Why Meadows?  Because now (ha, ha) I consider that a “runnable” trail (see elevation profile below and perhaps you will laugh too.)  I took in one gel when I reached the top of Meadows Trail and kept on going, admiring the ocean view on the run. 

The view running up Meadows:

Whew!  Made it to the top of Meadows Trail:

The weather so warm, I didn’t see many runners out today.  They probably made an early morning run of it. But I came across plenty of hikers and bikers, especially at Top of the World.  There, I watched a group of three ladies with backpacks and water (good girls) studying the kiosk map, exclaiming how they didn’t want to get lost.  Then I watched as they hiked up a dead-end trail.  I watched them hike back down as I ran Park Avenue Nature Trail to Westridge.   It’s funny how I’ve lost perspective on getting lost at Aliso/Wood Canyons.  The trail system makes perfect sense to me (now).  There’s absolutely NO POSSIBLE WAY to get lost.  (A sign I’ve run these trails at least one too many times – that’s a good thing.)

Another summit – Top of the World:

Lovely, dainty pink flowers on a Westridge detour:

So, I ran down Cholla Trail back into the Canyon with pretty decent time, especially after feeling so sluggish at the start.  I thought, heck, kick it in a little and try for a negative split.  Of course, I didn’t have the elevation gain on the second half of this run.  All the more reason to go for a negative split. 

I watched my garmin periodically, and that helped me pick up my pace when I slowed.  Cool breezes blew through the canyon.  Bikers made their way through, smiling.  I concentrated on keeping my speed faster than I wanted to run (not an all out sprint of course).  And as I ran, I noticed dozens of snake tracks across the width of Wood Canyon Trail.  I would have loved to have seen the actual critters so that I could snap a photo.  But I never actually saw the culprits.  Instead, I found myself flying (yes flying!) through the air.  I didn’t even feel the trip that my foot made over something like a rock or root.  Usually, my foot feels something, I know I’m going to trip and I can save the fall. 

Not this time.

Nope, I found myself, completely unexpectedly flying through the air.  And though only a moment passes during the time you realize you’re falling and when you land, I knew this was not going to be one of my ballerina falls.  A ballerina fall is that fall where the impact spreads evenly, I roll over my right shoulder, bounce back up and continue running. 

Instead what happened was this:  First my left knee crashed to the dirt.  Then my right knee hit, but not as hard, as my right elbow skidded along the trail, my momentum still moving forward.  Then my left wrist/palm made impact, soon after my right wrist/palm followed.  That’s when I rolled.  Yup, when it was all over, I rolled over my right shoulder to lay on my back, actually my vest back. 

I got up quickly, noticed some blood on my right elbow and left knee, and redness on all the other impact spots.  Covered in dusty dirt, I sat at the side of the trail and looked about to see if anyone witnessed my little air dance.  I was alone in the canyon. 

After a couple seconds, I stood back up and continued running.  I ran slowly at first with an aching knee and aching hands.  Within a couple miles I picked up my pace.  Even though I might have run quicker without the fall, I still made it into my truck running the second half of this run about 20 minutes quicker than the first half. 

Elevation Profile:  12.17 miles (19.59 km):

What to do about Horse Thief Trail–just keep going up it. Face your nemesis, and sooner or later you’ll conquer.

Early to bed, early to rise.  That’s the way I like it.  This morning I drove up Ortega Highway to Blue Jay Campground to meet fellow runner Jeremy.  I would never run the trails up there alone, so I was so happy that Jeremy agreed to accompany me.  I posted the run on the OCTR, but this morning, no other takers.  All you need is two to make a group right?

Right?  The main thing I learned as a young girl in Girl Scouts is the buddy system – always take someone with you.  I don’t always do that in my local hills.  But in the mountains the buddy system in my mind is crucial.  Cougars roam up there!  (The other precious gem I learned in Girl Scouts was, “Make new friends, but keep the old.  One is silver and the other gold.”)

The weather was overcast.  Delight, delight.  And to my surprise the campground was pretty  crowded.  (Spring break in our parts right now.)  Jeremy showed the way for a quicker route to San Juan Trail that I completely forgot about.  I would have taken us around the long way on PAVEMENT.  Right away on that first trail though, a rocky single track, I actually fell!  The fall really took me by surprise – I was down before I knew I was falling.  I usually don’t fall first thing.  Falls normally happen when I’m super tired or giddy.  Perhaps I was giddy.

I have to go back and research to know for sure.  But I think that’s fall #11.  But it might be more, since I’ve fallen a few times lately after a long sabbatical of no falls.  I don’t recall seeing any other runners on this lovely run.  We saw some hikers (one guy who seemed to eye us suspiciously, like he thought we were a couple of nuts running in the mountains.)  Some dirt bikers plowed up the trails, and we also met a couple of mountain bikers at Trabuco Creek.  Overall, the trails were pretty empty, especially Horse Thief Trail and the Main Divide afterwards. 

The Run elevation profile below:  3,014 feet elevation gain (Horse Thief runs from a little after the 5 mile mark to about 7 miles).

Running, well . . . actually posing on San Juan Creek Trail. 

Running down Trabuco Trail

By the time we reached Trabuco Creek, Jeremy pointed out my knee.  Yikes!  It didn’t look like this after the fall!

Time for a group picture and a hesitant moment before the big climb up Horse Theif.  Notice I’ve taken off my long sleeved shirt.  The climb is really the most difficult I’ve encountered.  Tougher than Bulldog in Malibu Creek Park (though Horse Thief thankfully, is shorter). 

Going Up Horse Thief

At the top at last, running the Main Divide

Pretty yellow flowers alongside the trail – it’s springtime!

Jeremy poses with Lake Elsinore far below

I think, I’m not positive, that Horse Thief was a little easier this time.  One advantage going up today was that the temperatures have lowered and the sun hid behind the clouds.  If only I could get out there once a week to train, I think I’d greatly improve.  Thanks to one brave runner, Jeremy, I was able to get out there and run this morning.  (That’s not to say there’s not lots of brave runners out there, it just takes a lot to get up here, waking early, and a driving a long windy drive up a mountain with other drivers riding your tail to get over the mountain, etc.) 

Quite a run!  Very enjoyable, not to mention tiring.  I call that a plus/plus.  Miles logged:  12

ps.  some of these pictures are courtesy Jeremy, I didn’t mark the exact ones, because I’m so dang tired, happily tired.