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). 

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.

Trail Mimicking

I am a trail runner.  If it makes any sense, I am more a trail runner than I am a runner.  Even when circumstances bring me to the road, I search out something that can somehow mimic the trail.  Though nothing so far truly mimics the trail, I have had lots of fun lately with my boulder hopping.

I still have to run the streets to get to these boulders.  And I must admit the cars freak me out.  People tell me they are afraid of snakes and spiders and other wildlife – but what about cars?  They weigh more than anything I find out on the trail.  And they can flatten me in an instant.  I just don’t trust cars – I mean cars, not necessarily their drivers.  A tire could blow, and next thing I know that car is flying toward me as I run peacefully along the sidewalk.

Well . . . I’ll not think about that. 

My biggest dream as a child was not any particular career.  It was not to be rich or drive a fancy car.  My biggest dream was to live in a beach town.  I was living in a beach town by age 23.  And I had many great years wasting lots of time in the surf and sand.  I am very fortunate.

Funny how now, I want to “waste” lots of time in the mountains.  Every day when I look out to Saddleback Mountains, I’m drawn to drive up there and run.  Unfortunately, it just costs too much dang money and time to run the mountains every day during my running streak.

So, day 23 of this streak, I again headed out my front door to the beaches.  And even though I ran plenty of road, I had a terrific time working up a sweat.  My mission today:  run the boulders at Monarch Beach.  I am getting better, much better at maneuvering my feet over these large boulders.  I move side to side, hop up, jump down.  There was a time, many a year ago, that I could barely hike those rocks. 

What fun!

Scenes from today’s run:

St. Regis Hotel:

Making my way down to Monarch Beach:

Time for boulder hopping:

Making my way to the prize:

My dirty shoes standing on nature’s colorful beauty:

Some of the prize:

The big prize after all that boulder hopping – my own private beach:

Running Monarch Beach:

Big Wednesday :

Running Salt Creek:

The Strands:

Miles run on day 23 of Streaking into the New Year: 10.79 (17.36 km)

Strength Granted / 100 Week Goal Hit

Day Seven 100 Mile Week Celebration/Challenge: 100.09 Miles Run

My husband thought it was all over for me on Thursday.  He said I ought to say, “Ah . . . I meant 100 Km!”

Friday night I said to him, with a whisper of a voice (because I lost it somewhere on my runs), “If I don’t improve vastly overnight, I don’t know how I’m gonna make it tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow” was Saturday, today, the 7th day of my 100 mile week celebration/challenge.  I went to bed early, with another “shot” of severe cough and cold medicine.  I slept pretty good until midnight when I woke with a coughing fit.  After chewing a cherry-honey Ricola, I fell promptly back to sleep, then experienced wild dreams of a lunatic trying to kill me.  He succeeded, then I’d play the story over and over again, trying new things so that he couldn’t succeed in killing me again.  But each time I changed my moves, so did he.  I remember climbing up crazy-high fire escapes and riding falling elevators.  Not fun. 

6:00 AM arrived, and I woke out of habit (I set my alarm for 6:30).  Thankfully, my throat no longer ached.  After two cups of coffee, I foam rolled my IT band, calves and hips.  Then at 7:30 AM, I ran out the front door for the last segment of my 100 miles to celebrate Holy Week.

I will try and make a very long story short(ish).  I began this run on an uphill which was very tough.  I felt weak.  Reaching the top of the hill was a great relief as I made my way down to complete the first leg of this run.  Great relief does not exactly equate to “fun.”  I still felt overly fatigued.  Then while listening to Eminem on my ipod (I know some of you laugh), he sang the words, “Lord grant me the strength . . . “  And I thought, “Man!  What Am I doing?  Those should be my words.”  And so I chanted those same words until my tiredness departed and I began to enjoy this lovely morning and the feeling of triumph, as I finished off my 100 miles.

I told myself “Your’re only running  4 sets of a little less than 4 miles.”  I didn’t plan out each segment in advance, instead I decided as I ran, and promised myself not to look at mileage until I reached the end of a “segment.”  Last thing I wanted was to stress over mileage.  I really wanted to enjoy this run on such a glorious and beautiful day.

After that first downhill, I ran a straightaway, then down some more to the beaches at the northern end of town – Monarch, Salt Creek and Dana Strands.  By the time I made my way to the surf, I felt normal – like I hadn’t pushed myself to the limits this past week. 

Segment 1 was probably the longest, but by far, the most enjoyable.  I ran along wet sand, visited tide pools.  The mood on the beaches was festive with surfers, walkers, runners and sun tanners all enjoying the early morning sun.

Running down into Salt Creek/Monarch Beach

Running Dana Strands

Leg 2 included the upper portion of my town, “The Headlands,” which meant a nice climb back UP.  But climbing up also meant trails, lovely trails.  I ran them for a couple miles, stopping once to take off my long sleeves and empty my shoes of sand.

View looking back at Monarch Beach, Salt Creek & The Strands 

Running Headlands, Overlooking Marina & Island (Island is Leg 3)

Sculpture of Richard Henry Dana, Jr.  (Author of Two Years Before the Mast) throwing cowhides off the cliff down to The Pilgrim well before the marina existed (1830s)

Running Down Into Leg 3 – The Marina Island

I felt great during leg 3.  People roamed the island, squirrels scampered about as pigeons excited little children who exclaimed “Look at that pretty bird.”  (How wonderful to think of pigeons as pretty birds rather than annoying pests who try to steal your picnic food).  Outriggers rowed the calm waters inside the jetty.  Windsurfers paddled against slight winds.  Party goers decorated gazebos for birthdays and pre-Easter celebrations – a true delight. 

A View From Island (Headlands In Background, From Whence I Came)

Sculpture Of Richard Henry Dana, Jr. Greeting Incomers To Marina Island

Leg 4 of my run to end Holy week went relatively quickly, though I found it difficult not to stare down the garmin.  I was tired somewhat, but making sure I didn’t drag my feet (by listening closely to my step), I was able to keep decent form, which meant for an enjoyable end. 

Though a car nearly plowed into me during Leg 4 (and it wasn’t my fault, it was his – a lot of good “fault” does if he hit me), I didn’t lose spirit.  I ran along the marina, through the wharf, then the main road.  I ended my lowlands run through Doheny Beach and on the bridge then over San Juan Creek, or actually the estuary, as it is where the river meets the ocean.  And then I ran back up Highway One home.  I chose (on purpose) the least grade back.  And since that climb was gradual, it was enjoyable.  And as I ran up the driveway of my home, I heard my middle son yell out with glee from the living room, “ONE HUNDRED MILES!”  What a pleasure that was!

Happy Easter.

Miles Logged today:  15.32