I Betcha My “Walk-Of-Shame’s” Bigger Than Yours

My initial plans regarding Saturday’s run was not to blog the event.  I thought that I’d act like it never happened, that I’d keep it a secret. 

I changed my mind.

Let me start with the fact that the first 15 miles of my 20 mile loop in the Saddleback Mountains were absolutely joyous.  I began running at sunrise.  I felt strong.  I ran without injury.  I had water stops where I refilled on every occasion.  I always had more fluids than I needed.

I experienced tranquility as the sun came up:.

I took in spectacular views as I ran along the mountain ridge (The Main Divide):

I stood in awe over the biggest pinecones I’ve ever seen:

I even had the company of my gnat friends (embrace the gnats!) who seemed to prefer the ridge of nose:

Saturday’s trails were in the same mountains that I always run.  The only difference was, I ran the trails reversed.  Instead of running up Holy Jim, I ran down Holy Jim, and instead of running down Trabuco Trail, I ran up Trabuco Trail.  Reversing my loop was a mistake mainly because it meant a huge climb out back to Blue Jay (where I began this run).  But the route wasn’t my biggest mistake.  I could have done it if I had not made the BIG mistake.  My biggest and crucial mistake was only packing a little more than 400 calories.  Sure, I got the fluids thing down pat.  I foolishly left something just as important out – fuel.

When I stopped in the bottom of the Canyon (Holy Jim Parking lot), I took out my water stash and refilled on fluids.  For good measure, I guzzled down a great deal straight from the jug.  I talked to a cyclist (who thought I was a bit crazy to make the climb to Blue Jay via Trabuco).  I felt fine though.  I knew the climb out would be difficult.   But I can do difficult.

I took in my last 200 calories as I started up Trabuco.  It isn’t very steep at first.  I ran in and out of shade.  I snapped a few photos.  I even came upon another runner that I saw on the ridge, as he closed up his loop via Horsethief.  He asked whether I was climbing up Trabuco back to Blue Jay.  When I said that I was, he replied, “Nice work!” 

Trabuco when it was all still good (though the climb was getting tougher and tougher):

As the climb increased, I grew weaker.  My legs felt like lead, and I wanted to stop.  But I wanted more to finish up this loop.  So I trudged onward with the promise that I would stop and rest when I made the Horsethief/Trabuco junction. 

That junction took F O R E V E R.  I continued moving forward in a haze with one thought, “One foot in front of the other.”  And thank goodness for the shade here and there.  But my running had turned into a hike.  And there was no changing that.  I felt too weak.  Still, I didn’t question whether I could make the trip back to Blue Jay.  I just conceded to the fact that this trip was going to be dang difficult. 

Finally, the West Horsethief/Trabuco junction:

I stumbled across the dry creek and found a boulder on the trail in the shade.  Here I sat and rested.  I was sure my back did not face a good spot for a mountain lion to pounce.  Yes, day time attacks are extremely rare (as are attacks in general), but I am still fearful about sitting or stooping down on a trail.  Even when I tie my shoe, I usually bring my foot up rather than stoop down.  Anyway, I rested for probably ten minutes on that boulder before gaining enough strength to continue on. 

And then the shade ended, and the terrain became extremely rocky.  With only about two miles left, I hung onto flimsy tree branches to rest.  And then I finally resorted to more sitting.  After walking approximately twenty-five feet I would have no more strength to continue.  I felt light headed, like I might vomit, so I’d find another piece of shade to sit down on the rocky trail.  I rested, taking deep breaths from my diaphragm.  I sipped my fluids, I took electrolyte pills.  Honestly, though, I took in the water at much lesser intervals.  My nausea was getting too much to take anything down. 

Some times I stopped more frequently, without even caring whether I found shade.  I would simply plop down in the rocks and lean on my side.  Standing back up took a great deal of strength, which I often used the aid of a branch.  Whenever I could, I rested on a boulder.  That way, the trip back to a standing position was not as painful.  My thighs ached, kinda of like labor pains (a painful throbbing in the thigh muscles), when I stood back up.  But I’d continue on until my breathing became so irregular and I thought I was going to pass out.

Now, my rests were flat out laying on the ground.  I didn’t care anymore about positioning myself safely from mountain lion attacks.  The ugly truth is that as soon as I bolted up because I was going to vomit, I would suddenly feel like I was going to experience diarrhea.  Thankfully, this did not occur, because I did not have enough strength to prepare for such an occurrence.

With about 2 miles remaining of this climb, I began to worry.  I mean REALLY worry.  I didn’t know how close to “the edge,” I was.  I mean, good, experienced trail runners have died on the trail.  Did they know when they were at the point when that was a possibility?  I didn’t know what it felt like to be at the point of no return.  I checked for cell service, and I had none.  I could not call family or friends.  I could call for emergency help only. 

The veins in my temples throbbed HOT blood around my forehead.  I just needed to lay down, CONSTANTLY.  I began to imagine how pissed my family would be if I died on the trails.  And I decided I had to call for help.  I made several attempts, to no avail.  Then I began weeping as I made that climb upward.  Each time I lay down to rest and get my regular breathing back, I’d try my phone again.  Nothing.

Finally, I got an emergency operator.  This is what I said:  I am not lost.  I do not need police, fire or medical aid.  I need a ranger.  I think I may pass out on the trail.  The operator thought for sure that I was lost.  I assured him that I knew exactly where I was.  I was only a short way from The Main Divide (probably a 1/2 mile).  A ranger would not be able to get a truck to me, but if I could just make it to The Main Divide, I could get in the truck for a ride back into Blue Jay.  That’s all I needed.  I was not injured.  I was just sick and so light headed that I could only take a few steps at a time.

Then I lost connection. 

I continued with the same routine:  Walk some, lay down some and rest.  The trail looked very different to me travelling it in reverse.   My spirit was squashed again and again by false summits.  I did not try and call emergency again.  I figured that a ranger would be waiting for me at The Main Divide. 

FINALLY, I caught a glimpse of the trailhead’s post.  I would have run to it if I could have.  Heck, I would have crawled to it if I could have.  No, I needed one more rest up.  So, I collapsed to the dirt floor and lay on my side, listening for a truck.  Silence.

It was then that I got the biggest surprise in my life.  A red and white rescue helicopter with red flashing lights swooped in just above Trabuco’s treeline and passed right over me.

No, no, no, no, no!!!!  I did not need a helicopter. 

I was mortified.  I painstakingly pushed myself up and made those last steps of my walk of shame up to The Main Divide.  The helicopter did not see me as it searched up and down Trabuco.  I collapsed in the dirt, waiting for my strength to make the downhill trip back into Blue Jay when a truck pulled up.  It was not a ranger truck, but two young adventurers who had driven the ridgeline from Silverado Canyon. 

They gave me a ride down The Main Divide toward the campground.  Lauren and Wes were their names.  About then, my phone came into emergency service range, and I received several texts from the firemen in the helicopter.  I felt like such a FOOL.  I didn’t have my glasses so I could not text them back.  Lauren text’d for me, to say that they had me in their truck. 

The helicopter did not fly off for good until an OC Sherriff fire truck came booming around the corner.  It was a huge truck, not your regular street fire truck, but a red, extremely tall mountain-terrain fire truck.  I slid out of Lauren and Wes’s truck and continued on my walk of shame to the firemen.  They brought me to the back of a truck so that I could sit on the ledge.  They hooked me up to electrodes, took my blood pressure, measured my blood sugar.  I couldn’t sit on the ledge any longer, so I made my way to the ground when my stomach began cramping terribly. 

The three men were very kind.  And I felt so stupid.  I could have avoided this.  They fed me ice-cold fluids.  I refused a ride to the hospital, so they stayed there with me sitting in the dirt until my vitals returned to normal.  My heart-rate was high, my blood pressure and my blood sugar were low.  Oddly, my body temperature was low as well.  It read 94F. 

Probably about an hour later, I was seat belted in their truck being driven down to my truck.  I thanked them profusely.  And I apologized.  I cannot tell you how much of an idiot I felt like.

(The profile below includes about a mile of the drive with Lauren and Wes):

Back at home, I still felt sick.  Protein, I craved protein, and at first ate meat (two hamburgers!!).  Then I stumbled to my bed and fell asleep still in my running clothes, caked in dirt from head to toe. 

When I woke two hours later, my stomach and back cramped.  After a hot bath,  I made posts on facebook and decided I would tell this story because I didnt want anyone to have to learn it firsthand.  Pack calories.  Pack calories.  Pack LOTS of calories.  What was I thinking going on a 6,400’ elevation gain run with only 400 calories?  I wasn’t thinking.  And that is not good.

Even late into the night I still craved protein.  I ate some junk food (like cheese!!) but really wanted more than anything – 3 bean salad.  My friend Dena saw that Facebook post.  She woke her husband, The O.C. Rock n’ Roll Chef.  He made some 3 bean salad with the ingredients in their kitchen, and she brought it over at about 10PM.  It was the best dang 3 bean salad I’ve ever had (I ate it for breakfast this morning too).  Thanks friends!  And thanks to the kindness of strangers, once again, I have been humbled.  I really hope that I can help strangers as much as they have helped me.

Near Fail

Last weekend I stashed water at the top of Maple Springs for a group run that I posted for today.  Turns out the weather was a bit cooler than the past few days.  Super good thing, being that we didn’t begin until 7:00 AM. 

Seven of us set off up Maple Springs Road to “Four Corners.”  I took up the back right away with aching shins and tight calves.  I stopped to stretch several times, to no avail.  The pain in both shins only worsened causing a constant stabbing as I made my way up the mountain alone. 

I thought to myself, “Well, this is a big FAIL.”  If it hadn’t been for the water stash, I would have turned around after two miles and driven home.  But, I wanted the other runners to know where the water was stashed just in case the weather really heated up and they needed it.  I know all too well the dilemmas of running out of water. 

I thought I might catch up with the rear of the group at three miles. 

No runners in sight. 

Five miles, no runners in sight. 

Well, dang it, I really didn’t think I could take the pain much longer, and it looked like I was never going to catch up with the group.  So, I flagged down a motorcyclist.  I asked him if he would relay a message to the next group of runners he came upon.  “I’m not going to make the loop.  I’m in pain.  Slow down or wait so I can reach you and tell you where the water is.”   (The message was actually shorter, but relayed the same info.)

With the motorcyclist driving off, I felt great relief knowing I would turn around soon.  Within minutes Janine and Philip came hiking around the corner and exclaimed, “You weren’t that far back!  We were just up the way.”  What a fantastic sight to see these smiling trail runners.  By this time I was only two miles from “Four Corners,” and when I found out Janine and Philip weren’t doing the loop, but an out-and-back, I continued upward with the two.  Their company took my mind off the shins.

We made it to Four Corners with plenty of water to refill our packs.  I was surprised to see none of the other runners had waited.  I’ve done a group run on this loop several times and every time before, the group waited for everyone at “Four Corners.”  It’s not a rule or anything.  Just kind of an unspoken thing that didn’t happen today. 

More water for us, though I hoped the others wouldn’t run out.  They had a tough load ahead of them with no shade.  While taking in the views, two cyclists came up Harding Truck Trail and we shared our plentiful source of water with them while chatting and laughing over trail stories.

The 7.5 miles down Maple Springs was tough on my shins.  It wasn’t as painful, but still I experienced difficulty.  Philip and Janine would quickly get ahead, while I struggled to keep a decent pace.  They waited though every so often.  Each time I’d turn a corner to see one or the other waiting, it put a smile on my face. 

Ends up I got in 15 plus miles with friends, so it wasn’t so much a “Fail.”  In fact, I’d call it a success.  Good conversation, laughter and plenty of water.

Time to start working on my shins.  I’ve been running low mileage weeks lately.  Perhaps I increased my mileage too quickly.

Where my Angels and Demons Reside

Every time I run trails, I look up at Santiago Peak wistfully.  I so yearn to run up there, to the place called “Talking Peak.” I want to stand high above the clouds and look over the counties, and say to myself, “I did it!”  At the same time, I’m scared to death of the place.  The last time I made that trek was during Old Goat 50.  It was the most miserable trek I’ve ever made in my life.  I hit the base of Holy Jim at approximately mile twenty-eight, and like a zombie made those 8 uphill miles to the peak.  I really don’t know how I was able to put one foot in front of the other on that day. 

Since then, I’ve run Holy Jim several times.  But then again, I’ve had many good times with Holy Jim.  Though gorgeous it is, the three miles on the Main Divide up the the peak has NEVER been my friend.  Never, ever.

On Thursday, the 4th of July holiday, I left home under darkness and made that hour drive into Trabuco canyon.  The off-road portion was particularly bumpy.  I drove it slowly because I’m worried.  I’ve been giving my truck quite the beating lately.

Not a single car was parked in the lot as I took off up Holy Jim at 6:15 AM.  The gnats were heavy in the foresty lower portions of Holy Jim.  I breathed in a couple of those tiny black critters through my nose.  Believe me, the cool weather made the gnats bearable. 

Running through a fig tree tunnel on Holy Jim:

As usual, I felt relief and comfort when I hit the switchbacks.  I knew I’d be at this back-and-forth, back-and-forth for a long time.  I didn’t count them, the switchbacks that is.  I didn’t look forward in the run.  I simply enjoyed the beauty moment by moment.  I stopped a few times to snap photos.  The photos didn’t pick up the angels, but I know they were there.

A male runner passed me about half way up.  He took that trail like a storm.  Gnats swarmed in on me in the shady, final stretch out of Holy Jim.  When I reached the Main Divide, I took pictures of my face covered in gnats, because that’s what I do.  Just then, another runner came up out of Holy Jim.  We hiked the next mile or so together, which made the trip much more bearable.  Still, I felt the struggle big time.  I also worried some about my fluids.  The weather was heating up quickly, and I felt constantly thirsty. 

While talking to this other runner, Mark, I learned that we live in the same town, that we have a son the same age, and they will both attend the same high school in September.  I thought it odd that I didn’t know this family.  And I thought the man looked a little familiar.  That’s normal though.  I come across so many people through the days, that I’m left in a daze with practically everyone looking familiar. 

When Mark took off ahead of me to the peak, my travel slowed quite a bit.  The heat bared down heavily.  Large “horse” flies bit at my neck, arms and legs.  One even bit my hand.

The remaining trip up to Santiago Peak was pretty hellish.  Bug bites, gnats, waning water, a hot breeze, you name it.  I told myself, “Giddy-up girl.  Get it done!”  And onward I went, one foot in front of the other.  Then a memory popped into my head, seemingly out of nowhere.  It was of Mark (the guy I had just met).  He was standing in my backyard, talking to my husband about our garden.  Mark was at my oldest son’s 5 year old birthday party!  Our sons went to the same preschool!! 

The Main Divide, heading up to Santiago Peak:

I drank my coconut water and took in some calories as I continued up, up, up.  About a quarter mile from the peak, I met up with Mark as he ran back down.  He got a chuckle out of my revelation, thought it was crazy that I would remember.  He said that he “vaguely” remembered something of what I described.  We chatted briefly about the various preschool teachers we had seen over the years (Boy, does time fly!)

In no time I could see the towers.  But I still had some climbing.  Before I summited, I began looking around for water stashes.  Not finding any, I hiked up to the summit.  Surely, I thought, someone would have stashed water there. 

No water.  

I made it though.  I actually made it to Santiago Peak.  I sipped my fluids (water plus Nuun tablets) as I walked out to the viewpoint and took in the Pacific Ocean and all the cities below.  I spent about ten minutes simply wandering about, relishing my “now.”  I also took some of that time looking for water stashes. (No luck.)

Santiago Peak:

I ran back down The Main Divide at a steady pace.  I drank when I needed, but knew at that rate, I was going to run out quickly.  I stopped where some races set up an aid stop, and looked around for some stashes.  (Nothing.)

My sips grew smaller as I made my way into Bear Springs, the Holy Jim Intersection.  There had to be water there.  I felt confident.  I know some friends who stash near there.  Disheartened, all I found were empty jugs and bottles. 

Running back down The Main Divide:

I did not panic.  In fact, I knew that I’d be okay.  A mere two miles away a tiny spring flowed out of the mountain wall, year round.  That spring had fulfilled me on many occasions.  I realized that mentally, I was with it.  Physically, I was not.  My gait was awkward.  It felt like my body wanted to break down.  It wanted to plop in the shade and lay there, perhaps nap.   

Before I headed down Holy Jim, I had a choice to make:  what to do with the remaining fluids.  I could conserve and sip tiny bits for as long as possible.  That wasn’t going to get me to the spring mentally or physically fit.  I decided to drink up until I felt satisfied.  And so I drank.  And I finished off all my fluids before even heading down Holy Jim.

I ran a half mile down that switchback feeling much relief having just drank the remainder of my fluids.  With 1 1/2 miles to the spring, I saw the landside in the canyon that is just before the spring.  Foolishly I focused on that slide for an entire half mile.  It didn’t do my mind good.  The yearning was too much to take, and that half mile dragged on miserably. So, I decided not to look at the slide and ran the remaining mile in, feeling pretty decently.

The spring came down in a constant quick trickle.  Using my coconut water container I filled my entire hydration pack (68 fluid ounces), drenched myself, and drank two whole containers of cold water in that shady spot.  What a tremendous relief!

The remaining three miles down, though hot, were pleasurable with a full pack of spring water.  I got my body back.  It no longer wanted to collapse in the shade. 

The best thing about the entire trip, besides summiting and meeting another fellow trail runner, was that I kept my wits about me in a potential crises situation.  It’s good to know where you’re running.  I’m fortunate that way, very fortunate for my running friends over the past years who have shown me the way. 

Unspeakable Beauty (Trail Running in the Saddleback Mountains)

To bed early (9:00 AM – oh the glory!), I woke at 4 AM.  I hoped to make the drive to the Holy Jim trailhead by 5:40.  But I lazed around the house too long, drinking coffee, casually dressing, that I didn’t arrive until 5:50.  (At least I planned ahead and got my gas the night prior).

On my offroad drive into Trabuco Canyon, I noticed a smoldering camp fire.  A slight breeze blew through the canyon and I didn’t want to take my chances that this fire might spread.  Sure, I could escape, but what about my truck and all those cabins nestled into the canyon.    First off, and more importantly, who sets an illegal fire in the first place, then doesn’t completely extinguish it???  If you’re going to set an illegal fire, be DANG SURE TO PUT IT OUT.  I don’t mean to be judgmental, but am I wrong? Utterly annoyed, I turned my truck around.  Kicking dirt at the fire didn’t do much, as the dirt was compacted and dry.  Remembering that I had plenty of water in my truck, I eventually doused out the fire and headed onward into the canyon.  Not only did these careless fire makers risk a disaster, but they also cost me time.  Oh, the humanity!!!

I arrived to Holy Jim Parking lot, utterly alone.  As I strapped on my vest, I heard voices in the distance and wondered, who the heck is playing in the creek at this hour?  When I finally set out, I saw two runners coming into the lot.  I knew both by sight.  One of the men went to college with my husband, the other I’ve seen running all over the mountains.  Though we are more acquaintances than anything else, I can tell you, it was sure nice to see to familiar faces in a desolate canyon at this hour.  We chatted for a short bit and headed off in opposite directions.
 

I took off up Holy Jim trail, a relentless five-mile uphill switchback to The Main Divide (a truck trail that meanders back and forth behind and front of the mountain with Orange and Riverside County Views).

I have NEVER noticed this sign before (go figure):
More Holy Jim, switchback after switchback, through forest and desert-like terrain:
Looks like the spirit of Caballo Blanco making his way through this canyon (notice the horse head shape of the clouds):

The scenery was so beautiful this morning, I wasted much time taking photos.  I also took some extra time working on form – that is keeping my head and shoulders even with my hips while making my way up hill.  This form felt awkward for some time.  I felt like I was in a marching band, and also like my rear end was sticking out.  But when I checked, I found my column straight.  Odd.
 

I did not see one person travelling up or down Holy Jim.  This of course was perfectly fine with me.  When I’m working on form, I don’t really appreciate company of strangers because I don’t want competition to take over.  The mountains were desolate on this wonderful morning.  Peaceful and serene.  After the parking lot, I didn’t speak a single word.

The final stretch of Holy Jim:

I made it to the top of Holy Jim (Bear Springs) ten minutes slower than my slow time.  Great relief set in as I made my way along The Main Divide.  My ankle cause minor pain, nothing terrible.  But still it worried me.  I took two ibuprofen (Yes, I know that is a no-no).  Overall the Main Divide was unspeakably beautiful.  I could not help but stop to take a few pictures.  I was after all running ABOVE the clouds.  I can’t think of anything that compares to running above the clouds.  It’s a surreal experience running up and down, up and down those rolling hills for several miles.  The mere perfection of this beauty is simply mind-boggling.
   

At last I made it to the infamous West Horsethief.  What a relief!  I tried, and I tried oh so hard to become one with the land travelling down this difficult trail.  I loosened up; I kicked out the back.  And I did pretty dang good for a while.  Then when the fist-sized boulders set in, I began slipping and sliding.  Perhaps I should have slowed my pace.  But my goal was to keep my pace up down West Horsethief.  During races, I lose time going down this trail.  And I hate to lose time running down hill.  Perhaps I didn’t concentrate or focus hard enough.  I’m not sure.  But after several slips and slides, I finally fell.  Fortunately, I fell on my ass, which has lots of cushion.  After impact, I came down on my right wrist, which caused only minimal pain at first, and then it was over.  Even after the fall, I continued to slip and slide down West Horsethief – big bummer, but what a gigantic adventure! 

Despite this approximate 15 mile difficult terrain, I made it back to the truck with energy to spare.  Unfortunately, I’ve been icing my ankle off and on all night. 

Here’s to a quick healing --  here! here!!

Ready to descend on West Horsethief: