Thank God for Holy Jim

I got a really late start this morning, late for a mountain run.  I didn’t get into my truck until 8:30 AM, didn’t begin my off-road driving until about 9:00 AM.  My feet, ever so delightfully, hit dirt at 9:30 AM.

I decided to run my semi-usual Holy Jim / Horsethief loop counterclockwise, the opposite that I usually run it.  Oh. My. Goodness!  The climb up West Horsethief was brutal.  BRUTAL.  Instead of growing angry up that grueling climb, I told myself to use this as a learning experience.  (And it worked, I didn’t grow angry or throw a pity-party-temper-tantrum once up that blasted hill).

The views brought to me by West Horsethief:

Even after reaching the top of W. Horsethief, I still had plenty of climbing ahead.  Heat came down in abundance!  At times, I needed to stop in the shade to cool my body temperature.  I felt the heat sickness coming on, but thankfully was able to keep it at bay (experience did its job today!). 

I didn’t see any other runners out on The Main Divide, though I did see two mountain bikers.  All I can really say is that it got DANG TOUGH out there on the mountain ridge.  Thank God for Holy Jim!  Though gnats swarmed my face when I hit this giant switchback, I was oh so relieved, because Holy Jim signified a downhill, mostly shady, five mile run.  And it was glorious.  Truly glorious.  There’s nothing like downhill shade when you’ve been doing uphill sun!

Yay shade!!!

I met two hikers on this fun downhill trip.  We chatting briefly.  When I mentioned West Horsethief, they said in unison “Everybody hates Horsethief.”  Euphoria hit with about 3.5 miles remaining as a breeze hit my face and the multi-colored wildflowers swayed at my shins.  Again, it was beautiful.  Truly beautiful.  And amidst enjoying this beauty and euphoria, a thought entered my brain.  That thought was,  “This is the part when you fall.”  (Falls usually happen in the center of euphoria). Wouldn’t you know it????  Not three steps later, I tripped on a cluster of boulders.  I tripped hard, but was able to save it, and thankfully didn’t fall.  (It would have been a terrible fall).

I washed my face at the trickle spring and made the last 2.5 miles in good time.  As I ran that last mile in I approached a dry Holy Jim Creek and opted to run across a small log to practice my balance.  I was almost patting myself on the back for good balance when the log turned and dumped me onto the dry, rocky creek bed.  I hit hard, with no roll whatsoever.  I guess the “Fall Fairies” still had it in for me – they didn’t so much like my “save” earlier up Holy Jim.  They made sure that I bloodied my palm and knees before the end of today’s run.  I lay there in the rocks, bees buzzing about my head, and also my cap that lay a couple feet away.  I felt light headed as I pushed myself back upright and needed to think twice on whether or not I hit my head.  I did not hit my head, but my wounds, caked in wet dirt, ached a great deal.  I staggered a bit before picking up my run again.  With just about 1/2 mile remaining in today’s run, the “Fall Fairies” left me a treat in the middle of the trail – two nice sized chunks of ice.  Yes ice!  Can you believe it?  I iced down my knees and palm and then made my way across Holy Jim creek, this time across a board secured about 3.5 feet above the creek.  I didn’t run it, though I made it across without falling and was able to pat myself on the back for good balance.    Finally, with some fluids to spare, I made it back into the Holy Jim lot where I promptly jumped into my truck for that tedious off-road trip out of the canyon.

Oh how I love mountain runs!  I can’t wait until the next one.

Miles 14.18 (22.82 km)

With Focus, But Without Fear

If I had remembered our recent big rains, I would have jumped out of bed this morning to head for the mountains.  Instead, I woke groggy, sorely tempted to call off today’s run, or at the very least, postpone it to later in the day.  As it was, two of my boys are spending the night away.  I wanted to be back from my run before they left.  And so, I set off preparing for my mountain run at 5:00 AM.  (It wasn’t 5 minutes later that I felt fully awake).

I’ll cut to the most important aspects of today’s run along my 14 mile loop.  First off, the wind strongly blew in and out of the canyon in long, cool bursts.  The sound of it rustling through the trees was delightful and moved me onward nearly effortlessly.  Also, the water roared along Trabuco Creek, which was brim full (well, not actually brim, but a heck of a lot fuller than bone-dry, like it’s been for so long).  It was all very fair-tale like.  I didn’t really begin to “feel” the run until I got out of this forest and headed up the giant switchback named Holy Jim.

The five mile trip up Holy Jim was peaceful.  It was cool.  And the time flew by after a fellow adventurer caught up with me from behind.  (Mark, whom I have met before – once on The Main Divide on my way to Santiago Peak, and the first time many years ago, in my house at my oldest son’s five-year-old birthday party).  Today, I marched up much of Holy Jim exchanging fun (often hilarious) wilderness stories with Mark.  It’s amazing to me how the major themes among endurance runners/hikers are so similar among us (injury stories, getting lost, encounters – so much fun to learn). 

We continued on at the same pace on the Main Divide.  Just before reaching Santiago Peak, Mark took off ahead to close up the same loop that I was running – Holy Jim/West Horsthief.  I didn’t see him again after that.  But I did see his footprints.  That’s something I notice nowadays – footprints – mine and others.  (More than once I’ve needed to rely on footprints to find my way back).

 The Main Divide Overlooking Lake Matthews:

Running alone down West Horsethief, I came upon two or three groups of hikers struggling up that wretched climb. I also fell not once, BUT THREE TIMES during the rockiest portions.  Each fall was more like a slow motion slip.  Each time, I landed on my rear.  And each time, I fell at the exact moment where I grew timid and slowed on the rocks.    The best way to traverse down tricky hills is with tiny steps and loosely.  Loosely is the key for me – I must run West Horsethief carefree, with focus, but without fear.  Actually, this plan will work best for any trail. 

Happy trails. 

Today’s route:  Holy Jim/The Main Divide/West Horsethief, Trabuco.  14.06 miles.  Weekly goal of 45 miles:  Achieved!

Real or a Dream?

Some time ago, I can’t remember when, I heard about some remnants of a mining company that used to be located in Trabuco Canyon.  I completely forgot about it.  Then some time later, I can’t even remember when, perhaps a month ago, maybe 6, while driving through Trabuco Canyon, I caught a glimpse of stone ruins in the canyon wall.  Perhaps I was in a hurry, probably having just finished up a run.  I don’t recall.  But I never saw the ruins again.  Not that I looked for them.  I kind of thought I didn’t really see them.  I actually wondered if perhaps, I was dreaming, and no such ruins existed. 

Now it may seem odd that I might not be clear on whether something was a dream.  Believe me.  I have a vivid dream life.  I dream every night, and recall lots.  Often I need to think twice whether something was real or a dream.  Still, this morning, I decided to go for a run in search of the mining company.  Imaginary or real ruins, I wanted to know.

I drove the first three miles into the canyon.  I parked next to another parked car and set off up the canyon road with a warm wind blowing against my face.  I really had no idea where these ruins would stand, except for the fact that I knew they were after the 3 mile mark.  At least they were in my dream.  

I ran up the lonely canyon road, hair blowing in my face:

My eyes scoured the canyon wall to my left, and when I reached the Holy Jim Fire Department, I knew that I had either missed them, or the ruins did not exist.  In the Holy Jim lot, I ran down to the creek to wash my hands.  The creek was still, like a dark piece of glass reflecting the barren winter forest:

Off through the trees, I spied the two cabins that I read recently had burned to the ground.  It was a sad sight.  And it still smelled of smoldering fire:

Exploring the fire remains renewed my interest in searching out the mining company.  Careful to kick out the back and not drag my feet, I concentrated even harder on the canyon walls on my trip back.    I stopped for anything that looked unusual.  I did spot something deep within the trees.  After some bushwhacking and heavy stomping through foot deep leaf litter, I came upon this tree house:

Yes, I considered climbing up into this tree house, but moved onward instead, keeping on track with my original plans.  The brush grew thicker and the scratches on my legs multiplied when I decided to cross the creek back to the canyon road. 

Continuing to run, I found another spot to cross the creek:

I tromped through more brush and leaf litter when I eventually came upon a small foot path.  I ran that for a bit.  It took me up into a clearing, and off to the side, there they were!  The retaining walls of what looked like a three story building.  I worked up a good sweat confirming that these ruins were real and that I did not see them in my dreams.  

Passage way from first floor to second:

Looking down from third floor:

View from 3rd floor:

I LOVE it when I search out something in the wilderness and find it.  Turns out I found the remains of The Santa Ana Tin Mining Company (incorporated in 1901).  Funny thing, I located a road right out of there directly to the canyon road when I left.  Even funnier, directly across the creek, standing on the canyon road, I could not see even a hint of these ruins. 

Fun day running. (4.75 miles logged)

It’s just a matter now of putting the pieces together

Last night I pressed and rolled my foot down on a tennis ball as hard as I could.  No pain.  After icing, heating, rolling etc., FINALLY no pain.  I continued rolling through the night, even taped to go to sleep. 

This morning I felt REALLY optimistic about a trail run.  Then after dropping the last of my boys at school, he informed me that he forgot his clarinet. I drove all the way back home, grabbed his instrument, then rushed back to his school.  Then I RAN through campus to get the clarinet into the music room before the tardy bell rang.  I made it.  The bad news is, upon my first running step, my right foot hurt.  IT.  HURT.

Darn it.  I went for a trail run anyway.  And I’m especially glad because today I finally put together the last piece of my puzzle for the Tides to Towers run that I’m eventually going to do. (That is a run from the beach up to Santiago Peak, AKA Talking Towers Peak)  I’ve finally “punched” through Arroyo Trabuco and ran to the mouth of Trabuco Canyon.  I even had some spare time after that and ran up Rose Canyon because I heard a runner can get to Santiago Truck Trail from there.  If this is true, it will open up a whole new array of running for me.  Anyway.  First things first.  I’ve got the Tides to Towers route.  Put together, it’s 29 miles one way.  I still haven’t decided about the return trip, whether I’m going for the full 58 mile round trip.  I’m toying of taking the bus when I get off the mountain or having hubby pick me up.

I’m aiming to do this “Tides to Towers” run late winter, early spring.  Now, my job is to find one or more trail runners to do this with me.  Any takers?

Running Arroyo Trabuco:

Running through O’Neill campground with drinking fountains galore and sparkling bathrooms with running water sinks and flushable toilets!!:

Standing at the mouth of Trabuco Canyon:

Rose Canyon:

Time to turn around in Rose Canyon and head back.  The foot was aching by this point.  Bummer.  But it was still a good run, because any run is better than no run, especially in this pristine scenery.  (Today’s total: ten miles)

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.