This Week

Woe is me who can hardly find time to get in runs nowadays.  This week I managed to get in three runs, and I am grateful for that.  Still, I need more miles.  I want more trails

Run #1, Trabuco Creek Trail (in San Juan Capistrano) to Arroyo Trabuco (in Mission Viejo) 6.0 mile (9.66 km) out-and-back:

I call these trails “urban” trails, as I could hear traffic whizzing by along Camino Capistrano and graffiti dressed the walls as I ran beneath eight lanes of traffic travelling along Interstate 5. 

I crossed Trabuco Creek beneath the train tracks where I saw these high school students walking down to the creek.  I half expected them to pull out a joint, or at the least a pack of cigarettes.  Instead, they took fishing poles out from their packs. 

Run #2, Aliso Creek Trail to Wood Canyon, up Cave Rock Trail, back to Wood Canyon, Dripping Cave Trail, Mathis, Oak Grove, and then up the big incline called Car Wreck Trail, back to Mathis Trail, West Ridge to Top of the World, Meadows, back to Aliso Creek Trail, 9.33 mile (15.02 km) loop:

I got out late as usual, as I have little time for household chores and must tend to them first when I have spare moments.  As such, the weather was warm, and I overdressed because (hark!) it still is winter. 

I stopped by my favorite places in Aliso / Wood Canyons, such as Cave Rock, Dripping Cave and even Car Wreck Trail.  Of course, my loop included Top of the World for a quick view of the lovely Pacific. 

Everything was green and beautiful. 

Run #3, ran inland from my house so that I could catch the bike trail down to Monarch Beach, to Salt Creek Beach, Dana Strands (AKA The Strands), up to The Headlands, and Highway One back home, 8.45 mile (13.6 km) loop:

Got out late (3PM) for once again some winter heat.    Fortunately, I got some of that coastal breeze that keep so many coming back.  I had really hoped to get in at least fifteen miles for my last run of this week.  That was not possible – there were clothes to wash, bags to pack, floors and dishes to wash and toilets to scrub today.  I let the dream of fifteen miles flitter away and enjoyed half the miles anyway.

And they were difficult.  I think the main reason for my struggle was the winter warmth, and the fact that I set off toward the end of the day.  Regardless, I am better for it. 

Here’s the funny thing about run #3:  according to my garmin, the elevation gain was 1,238’.  I find this absolutely amazing, especially since I only reached a maximum elevation of 350’.  There were lots of ups and downs, I suppose.  And they add up.  (I have not scrutinized the graph below to figure out whether Garmin got the total gain correct). 

Let 2015 Begin

We got a cold winter storm here in California last week. The snow level was down to one-thousand feet. 1000 feet! I didn’t get out to the trails until three days after the storm (Friday). And I chose Trabuco Canyon since I wouldn’t have to do any mountain driving. Pretty safe choice, or so I thought.

About a mile into the canyon I spotted snow at the sides of the road. And about a half mile later, the shady road turned icy. Well, I was determined to make the five mile drive into Holy Jim. But somewhere around mile 3, my tires started spinning and I found myself stuck in a rut before a large boulder on the ice. After attempting to drive out of the small whole and up over the rock, I decided to exit the truck to see to survey the situation. I could see that if I backed out of the rut, and cut the wheel sharply to the left avoiding the boulder up front, I would hit a patch of dirt. This I did, and continued driving slowly onward on that sloped canyon road. Very soon, I saw a truck driving toward me. The driver hung his head out as he passed and said, “Be careful in there – we had to turn back because it was too icy.”

I REALLY wanted to get to the Holy Jim lot. But quite quickly, I decided that this was not a very smart move. The mountain sides covered in snow, the road was pretty much solid ice and slanted in a direction that if I slid, I’d slide right off the road into Trabuco Creek. Last thing I wanted to do was hike back out of the canyon for cell reception to call for help. Hubby would not be happy.

And so, I began the harrowing task of turning my truck around on the ice. The road is thin, and being icy, made it even more difficult to turn around. I also had another problem. Turning the truck around put me nearly face forward with a giant ice puddle. Now, when I drove in, I hugged the mountain side of this puddle, avoiding it completely. But now, I could not get my car back to that side of the road – the space was too tight and too slippery.

So, I just sat there with my car perpendicular to the road, trying to think up a plan when two men came hiking up. “What do I do?” I asked the gentlemen. One of them had blood dripping down from his knee from a fall on the ice. He told me get the truck in the lowest gear then turn my wheel a little to the left. I followed his instructions. "A little more to the left he said." And then, "Now, just drive and momentum will get you through the puddle.” With no other options, I drove, with my wheel turned as directed I went down into the side of the puddle on the far edge, and then back up on the other end.

Whew! I drove back to the closest lot, parked and pushed in the emergency brake. And as I sat there prepping for some outside time, my truck began sliding. Turned off and with the brake on! Determined to get out there, I started the my truck back up and drove further out of the canyon, found a flat spot in the snow, parked, and with my heavy coat hiked back into the canyon. 

I hiked back to the Holy Jim lot, saving myself from a spill on the ice many times.  During my hike back out, cars were sliding all over the road, ice chips and rocks flying at my legs.  Eventually, I figured I would be safer off the road, so I hiked down to the creek and made my way back to the truck slushing through the snow all by myself.  (2.31 miles hiked)

A nice flat place to park:

Tuesday, I made it back to the trails for a 10.63 mile run in Aliso / Wood Canyons that kicked my ass.  Yup.  Chewed me up and spit me out.  

Let 2015 begin!

A coyote bolts off the trail that I’m stumbling upon:

After The Rain

Southern California finally got some rain.  Two days of rain!  And we didn’t drown. And we didn’t flow away.  After the rains, I got two days in a row of running. Not two WHOLE days, but some hours worth, (while struggling, suffering way too early from fatigue).  Still I got, two glorious days, plodding one foot  in front of the other, as fast as I could muster.

Day One:  Three Beaches

We have five beaches (or 6 or 7, depending how you count) in my town.  Three of those beaches, the northern beaches, are adjoined along one long sandy strip, providing a nice 2+ mile stretch to get your feet moving:  Monarch Beach, Salt Creek and Dana Strands (AKA The Strands).  I decided early on Thursday, after getting the boys all off to school, that I would run the northern beaches, as all my coastal trails were closed due to “wet and muddy conditions.” 

I parked on Camino Del Avion, and ran down the bike trail to Salt Creek State Beach.   It’s over a mile along that bike path that runs adjacent to Monarch Links, a golf course with green belt views and memories of our early life in The O.C.  My husband and I lived on the other side of this golf course, across the street from Salt Creek Beach for our first ten years here.  It was easy living back then, though we didn’t know it.  We should have known it – I mean, come on, though we both worked 40+ hour weeks, and I was working on my bachelor’s degree for some of those years, evenings consisted of walks on a lonely beach, and solo dips in the community pool.  Weekends, well  . . . after laying around in our sun-drenched living room, we’d pack up our back packs, and head down to the beach for the entire day – THE ENTIRE DAY.  Hubby would fish in the surf, catching the nights’ dinner.  I’d write letters on pink stationary, write in my journal, read a novel, or better yet, work on my novel.  Occasionally, we’d jot off to the headlands, which seemed so far away (but is only about .75 of a mile away according to Thursday’s garmin recording).  Back then, we didn’t head back up to our apartment until nearly every beach-goer had gone home.  I’m not gonna say, “Those were the days,” because I wasn’t a runner then (I was a roller blader, a swimmer, a jazzersizer and OMG a smoker!), so I was missing out on a bunch – but they were wonderful days nonetheless. 

So there I was this past Thursday, trotting (yes trotting) back down to the beaches that I spent so many countless hours in the early years of my history in The O.C.  I wasn’t missing those days.  They just occasionally kissed my mind as I took in new times on these same beaches – this time, approaching 50 years old, with three sons and a wild-crazy home, downtown in the same beach resort. 

As soon as my feet hit the sand on Salt Creek Beach, I took a right and headed toward Monarch Beach.  Problem with the recent rains – Monarch Creek flowed heavily into the ocean.  There was no hopping this without getting my feet wet.

With my heart intent on running Monarch, I took a seat in the sand.  There were few people on the beach – a thong-bikini clad lady ran barefoot along the sand.   A gentleman did pushups up by the dirt trail.  I unlaced my shoes, shoved my socks inside and not so gingerly trudged across Monarch Creek.  My feet sank into the wet sand, as my mind relished the cool rushing water. 

On the other side of the creek I was free!  Free to conquer the remainder of Monarch Beach.  Birds barely flinched as I trotted up on them barefoot in the sand. 

I did some boulder “running” to practice for Calico which is about a month away.  These rocks however, unlike the ones that don’t seem to move in the desert, wobbled like teeter-totters when I pounced on them.  I only fell once – it was a hard solid fall, with the ground giving no resistance.  I pushed myself back to my feet happily unscathed. 

The rocks along Monarch Beach:

After Monarch, I ran back across the creek (taking my shoes off again), ran along Salt Creek, and then The Strands.  I stopped when I hit The Headlands where I photographed some sea anemones and watched the waves crash up on the rocks. 

7.25 miles

Day Two: Mentally Sensitive / Mathis Loop

The coastal trails in Aliso/Wood Canyons opened back up on Friday.  Grudgingly, I had to come to terms with a nagging ankle problem that I believe is not really an ankle problem, but a heel problem.  My hunch is that the stiffness and low-level pain that I’ve been denying is related to my on-going plantar fasciitis.   Frequent calve stretching along Aliso Creek Trail alleviated the situation within about the first mile (which further points to a plantar fasciitis problem).

Anyway, the trails were muddy, and my climb up Mentally Sensitive proved quite strenuous.  I worked up quite a sweat, as I slid back three feet for practically every foot of progress (fun!). 

In all, I covered 10.7 miles, with 1,274’ of elevation gain.  Felt good.  And I was tired.

No Perspective

I don’t know what’s the matter with me, except for the notion that I may have lost all, and I mean ALL perspective on strength and training.  When I run less than ten miles, I consider it a short run.  Nine miles:  short run.  If I put in less than 40 miles during a week, I feel like a failure.  I never feel strong in my training.  In fact, I feel like a complete weakling.  All. The. Time.  I go to the gym, spend an hour on the elliptical, a half hour on the treadmill for speed work, then an hour on the cycle.  I can top that off with thirty minutes of weights, another fifteen minutes of ab work, and I feel like I can’t do anything strength and endurance-wise, like I have no strength at all.

What is the matter with me?

I try and go with it and still plug through these workouts, enjoying the trails like I do.  But when it’s all said and done, I don’t get a sense of accomplishment.  I feel like I came up short, like I failed.  Like I don’t try hard enough.

Such is the truth concerning my training.

Still, I go out there and run those trails, not because they give me greater strength or endurance, but because they clear my mind and fill it with beauty. 

My first and only run thus far this week, came on late in the week – Thursday afternoon, 1 o’ clock in the afternoon, to be exact.  The heat was strong, and the air was heavy.  I didn’t feel like I could do it.  But I just started running, like I always do.  Sweat dripped down onto my face early on – it was so damn hot.  The hills were empty.  Really.  Empty.  I decided to run up Meadows Trail, a steep hot climb.  I didn’t fret going up, and I power-hiked most of it.  At the top of Meadows, I looked back at the Santa Ana Mountains and took in the view of my beloved Saddleback.

I continued on across Top of the World with no idea about my pace, as my garmin battery was dead (& I didn’t notice until I parked my truck).  Funny thing.  I really can’t tell how fast (or slow)  I’m running.  A 15 minute pace feels the same as a 10 minute pace to me.  Go figure.  The only difference I’ve noted on trails is that with the quicker pace, my steps are shorter.  And so I took shorter steps in a hopeful attempt to pick up my pace. 

Thursday’s heat run measured 9.4 miles.  And I only know that (because I wasn’t wearing a garmin) because I’ve run the route before.  My route:  Aliso Creek Canyon, Wood Canyon, Meadows Trail, Top of the World, West Ridge, Mathis, Wood Canyon, Aliso Creek Trail.

My swing break in Alta Laguna Park at Top of the World:

Misty Summer

Wednesday’s Run:

Miles:  10.39 (16.72 km)

Elevation Gain: 1,243 ft (379 m)

Location:  Aliso/Wood Canyons

Route:  Aliso Creek Trail, Wood Canyon, Meadows, Mentally Sensitive, Top of the World, West Ridge, Mathis, Wood Canyon, Aliso Creek Trail

Weather:  humid, but a deliciously cool and misty summer morning.  Began running in the clouds, ended beneath sunshine.

More Stats

Got out late this morning, but ever so grateful because I’ve been working more than usual, leaving little time for morning runs. 

The stats: 

Miles run: 10.03 (16.14 km)

Elevation gained:  1,253 ft (382 m)

The pics:

Entering Meadows:

My “Everything’s-Everything’s-Gonna-Be-Alright-Bridge (because if I make it to here, chances are very good that I’m surviving the run ):

Top of the World:

Robber’s Cave: