The BIGGER Loop

Okay, I know that’s lame.  I contemplated a great deal over what to name today’s loop, but came up with nothing.  This is the best I’ve got (at least until I run this loop again).  What loop?  The second portion of the Old Goat 50 miler that I’m running at the end of March.  The first twenty miles is The Candy Store run that I’ve posted recently.  The second portion of this race is a 30 mile loop that takes runners up The Main Divide, down Trabuco, up Holy Jim  to Santiago Peak, then back, mainly via The Main Divide (in the Saddleback Mountains).

I posted this run in my running club and 3 other runners showed for a shorter loop which took them up the infamous West Horsethief.  We ran together for the first 6 or 7 miles.  The weather was cool, perfectly cool.  And the skies were blue. 

Top of Trabuco/Main Divide (Me an utter goofball, Alyx, Tory, Jessica Deline RD of Twin Peaks and The Harding Hustle):

View of Santiago Peak from Trabuco:

Running Trabuco:

The Departure, and I’m not weeping over missing W. Horsethief:

Once we split, I’m sure my pace slowed.  I run faster when I run with others.  Though I enjoyed the earlier company, now I enjoyed the solitude. I came across several friendly hikers.  And I put a great deal of effort into not thinking about the past or future.  I succeeded pretty well, and of course, that’s when I ran my best. 

I have not run Holy Jim since I DNF’d the Saddleback Marathon this past November.  I have not run to Santiago Peak since Twin Peaks Ultra (October).  I’ve been avoiding these trails I think, due to a fear lurking in the back of my mind.  A fear over the difficulty.  A fear over mental defeat.  Holy Jim is where I gave up the mental battle during the Saddleback Marathon.  Santiago Peak, well, I have a mental defeat just about every time I run those last 2.5 miles. 

Nonetheless, my run into Holy Jim was lovely.  The weather remained cool.  The skies grew a little cloudy.  And the trails were “spring” green with moss and ferns heavily dotting the landscape.

Ending up Trabuco:

Spotting a rare candy rock :

In the Holy Jim parking lot, I traipsed through the brush to locate the fresh water that my son and I stashed yesterday afternoon.  I felt a little like Katniss from The Hunger Games.  Just like in The Hunger Games, water is the number one commodity in trail running (calories being number 2, which I had plenty of).  Though I wasn’t particularly thirsty (I had just gone through 60 fluid ounces on the trip there), my mouth practically watered when I pulled out one of the hidden jugs.  I set it on a log, unpacked some calories and refilled my hydration pack to the brim.  That water looked so beautiful and precious to me, I was tempted to pour it over my head and shower in it.  But alas, the weather was too cool for such an act.  So, I hid the jug back among the others and headed up Holy Jim. 

Holy Jim was a bear, yes, but not a grizzly bear.  I found the 5 mile climb laborious, but enjoyable.  It was like meeting up with an old friend (one of life’s greatest treats).  On the way up Holy Jim, I devised a plan to conquer the final 2.5 mile ascent to Santiago Peak.  I decided I would use those couple miles to “rest-up.”  Instead of struggling by running up that thing, I chose to hike it.  In fact, I forbade myself to run any portion of it, EXCEPT the flat part that reaches only about a tenth mile. 

A Stream Crossing on Holy Jim:

Hiking the last couple miles to Santiago Peak:

That’s not me on the motorcycle:

A view from the summit:

Standing on the Summit:

I only lost about ten minutes hiking to the peak instead of attempting to run it.  That’s a lot of time for only 2.5 miles.  HOWEVER, I felt relaxed.  The ascent was still difficult.  But I never grew angry.  I didn’t bash myself (that is fill my brain with negative self-talk).  I reached the peak delighted.  And on my trip down, I felt stronger than usual.  I think I’m going to work on this approach more. 

The next three miles back down were good.  The final ten miles were an utter struggle.  I ran most of them, and when I found myself trying to run ridiculous inclines, I forced a fast hike (as fast as I could manage anyhow).

Today’s training run:  Success, even though The Bigger Loop took me quite a bit longer than I hoped.  At least I know where I stand (or run), and have a time to work with. 

I feel like time is fleeting.  But I will not fret.  Time on my feet, that’s my goal this month.  Putting in the miles!

Not So Good News

First the quick one – I actually broke ANOTHER camera.  Monday, I’ll embarrassingly put in a claim on my replacement plan / extended even-if-I –accidentally-throw-it-off-a-mountain warranty.  (Not to worry though, I still have pictures to share, and while I’m waiting for my reimbursement check, I always have my phone if I absolutely have to take a photo). 

Secondly, while I did not fracture/break my foot, unfortunately I cannot blame the no-support, no-give sandals for my foot pain.  The pain has returned, in abundance, but sporadically.  And I have self-diagnosed my problem as plantar fasciitis.  How do I know?  Well, I have a textbook case.  I run on uneven surfaces.  I’ve been running in worn shoes.  The pain is in the heal and arch.  It’s the worst in the mornings, etc. 

Friday, before I knew that I had this dreadful condition, I drove up into Saddleback Mountains (a very long, rocky dirt road) to stash 200 flluid ounces of water at Modjeska Peak for this morning’s long run.  The drive was delightful and scenic, but also very stressful.  I had to focus so hard on my driving (so that  didn’t wreck my truck or drive off the mountain), that I was actually drained upon returning.  It seemed actually more tiring to drive the route than to run it.  (I wouldn’t be able to run it though, carrying all that water).

A proud trail runner, for the first time stashing water in the mountains by myself : )

The drive down from Modjeska Peak:

Well, since I had already stashed water and planned to meet Cody L. for another training run, I wasn’t going to miss this morning’s run.  Pain or no pain.  Thing was, when I got out of bed at 4:30 AM, I practically fell to the ground when I stepped down on my left foot.  I iced my foot as I got ready and I was on the road by 5:00 AM wondering how I was going to do this.

First off, I cut our route short about 5 miles.  Instead of 28, we went for nearly 23.  It included two peaks, Santiago and Modjeska, lots of elevation, and a delightfully cool morning (but not minus the gnats).  I’m certainly grateful for Cody.  If he hadn’t made the long trip out, I may have not got in this run. 

Setting off up Holy Jim under darkness:

As I worked into this morning’s run, my foot pain became very bearable.  We made decent time to Bear Springs (top of Holy Jim), though we were five minutes slower than last week.  The best thing was, I made it to Santiago Peak in 2:46 (my record is 2:45 from what I recall).  Cody made it in 2:40 (but it was only his first time there – I have been to “the peak” countless times now).  It’s a hard, hard climb for me.  Very stressful.  To deal with it, I absolutely cannot think about the climb while going up.  I pretty much can’t think about anything.  I just moved forward, running some, mostly power-hiking that final couple miles to Santiago Peak.  The views made up for some of the struggle.  And of course, finally arriving, made up for all of the struggle.

The Main Divide on the way to Santiago Peak:

I saw one runner coming down about a half mile from the top.  I didn’t recognize him. But I bet he was training for Twin Peaks.  We also saw 2 other runners at the peak.  I know one of them, and he’s definitely training for the ultra, so I bet the other guy was as well. 

A quick stop at Santiago Peak to take in the view (beneath Cody’s hat, my Saddleback Marathon t-shirt – very cool that my race shirts can go to good use : )

Group Photo:

Looking  back at Santiago Peak on the way to Modjeska Peak:

The last 8 or so miles were downhill and quite painful for me.  My foot pain became progressively worse with each step.  Four other runners training for Twin Peaks (3 who I know) met up with us on Upper Holy Jim as they made their downhill trip from the peak. They gave me some good advice on treating my foot condition.  One of the guys said I can get rid of it in five days.  FIVE DAYS!  I am following his regime, you can be sure.  (I’ll go into that in another blog entry).  

Cody and the other four guys made it down to the lot before me.  I urged each one who passed not to wait or worry about me.  (Men tend to fear that I  need help or can’t be alone if I’m having trouble on the trails.  It’s sweet and part of their upbringing.  But really, I had to do this by myself).  My pain was increasing, and I didn’t need an extra voice, caring hand or someone to try and keep up with.  I basically tilted forward and with a blank mind plodded down Holy Jim, sure in a lot of pain.  At the same time, I was oh so grateful that I was able to make this run after all. 

As I sit here writing this entry, I’m rolling a tennis ball beneath my foot.  Now it’s time to put a sock on and ice.  I shall conquer this!  I must if I’m to run Twin Peaks.  I can’t attempt 50 miles with this foot. 

Today’s profile:

With A Cheerful Heart

I knew that I had to get back to Santiago Peak before my big race just a month a way.  The last couple times I ran to the peak, I experienced great stress.  I threw a tantrum here and there, and just couldn’t beat the negative self-talk.  When I’m alone, the peak is a HUGE mental battle for me.  I could not let the last time before the race be an anxious, terrible trip up there. 

My main goal today:  run to Santiago Peak with a cheerful heart.  That’s right.  No anger.  No tantrums.  Just go up there, and accept it as it is.  If the trip was easy after all, there’d be trash all over the place, and tons of people and I probably wouldn’t do it.  So, why the heck have I been beating myself up for the struggle being so difficult?  Silly.

An empty Holy Jim Parking lot, prepping for this 16 mile run:

The weather did not cool down for me today.  In fact, it was HOT.  The gnats also had returned.  But they were little, baby-like gnats.  I wondered if a new group had hatched.  These little guys were not so bothersome, especially because their numbers weren’t huge.  One did get lodged in my nostril though, which made nasal breathing a little difficult.  Unsure what to do, it donned on me to attempt what I’ve seen many of my male friend runners do – blow a snot rocket.  What the heck.  With one attempt I blew that gnat out and was one my way up Holy Jim.  My first snot rocket ever!

I ran Holy Jim in its entirety.  I felt good.  I drank my fluids at a rate though that worried me.  I had only brought along 82 fluid ounces.

Me and my gnat friends:

Gorgeous views on the way up:

When I hit the Main Divide, I concentrated on a strong power-hike for about a mile.  I ran the flats, and the shady up hills.  No negative thoughts crossed my mind.  When it got really tough, I said to myself, “It is what it is,” and I prayed for strength.

I made it to the peak from the Holy Jim Parking in lot in 2 hours, 45 minutes.  This is going to be a time problem in Twin Peaks.  But . . . it is what it is.

A quick pose at Santiago Peak:

Running down from the peak, I felt stronger than usual.  I hit Upper Holy Jim with a cheerful heart.  It seemed that someone had done some work on this technical single track since I’d last run it.  Rotten wood was thrown to the sides.  And some of the ruts had been filled.  I thoroughly enjoyed myself taking this trail as quickly as possible.  And then wouldn’t you know it?  (It always happens when you think things are going good).  I took a hard, I mean HARD fall. 

When I hit the rocky terrain, my calves knotted into cramps.  As usual, it happened in slow motion, and I remember saying out loud, “Straighten your legs!  Straighten your legs!”  I was able to get out of the leg cramps, but in doing so somehow ended up on my back.  I sat up to notice a gash on my knee, and the drip, drip, drip of blood coming from my elbow.  I didn’t have enough fluids to rinse my elbow and see just how badly it was injured.  But the dripping slowed soon enough.  And after sitting there for a bit to take in the scenery, I stood up, with no anxiety or anger in my heart, and continued onward down toward the Main Divide.

Upper Holy Jim:

Where I fell:

Though I recovered from the fall well, things got even tougher.  I RAN OUT OF FLUIDS.  With three miles left to the spring, I kept my downhill run at a slow pace.  Heat exhaustion was beginning to take its toll when I finally made the spring which was barely a dribble.  I waited there in the shade filling my handheld again and again until I had about 40 fluid ounces in my pack.  I drenched my head, my face and washed my elbow, though it was too painful to dislodge all the pebbles from my skin.  I filled my handheld as well, and after a good twenty minutes in the shade, I finally made my way down Holy Jim, with a cheerful heart.

Running The Main Divide toward (lower) Holy Jim:

At the spring, finally refreshed and ready to finish up this run:

Nearing the final stretch of Holy Jim, ahhhhh, the lovely shade (& gnats too : )

The profile:

Deer Staring into the Head Lights

I actually made it out the door, driving to the mountains at 4:40 AM.  So early in the morning, I drove cautiously on the lookout for drunk drivers.  But I didn’t need to worry about them.  Instead, a deer jumped out in front of me as I drove the toll road to Trabuco Canyon.  I have ALWAYS heard that if you’re going to hit a deer, don’t slam on your brakes.  If you slam on your breaks the deer will fly into your windshield upon impact.  If you can’t avoid the animal, you’re supposed to hit it head-on.  Yikes.  I would find that difficult to do. 

Fortunately, I was so cautious looking for drunk drivers, that I saw the deer before it even hopped onto the highway.  And being that I was on the road alone, I was able to tap my breaks and slow down in time.  The deer stood in the middle of my lane for a second, looking straight into my head lights, and I thought, “Oh no!  It’s going to be one of those situations – a deer staring into my headlights runs head-on into my truck.”  As it turned out, the doe turned around and hopped back over the barrier into the wilderness.

I’m rather glad that I didn’t need to hit a deer.

The sky still black when I drove into Trabuco Canyon Lot, I couldn’t see a hint of the mountain range.  Then I drove that long 4.5 mile bumpy road to the Holy Jim lot.  By the time I arrived, the sun had not risen above the horizon, but the sky was light from its morning glow.  Six other cars were parked in the lot, and that made me oh so happy!  I chatted briefly with several cyclists as they took off for a Trabuco/Holy Jim loop.

My agenda:  20 mountain miles

Of course, I included Santiago Peak in my run.  Why?  Because the peak KILLS me (that is the last 2.5 miles getting there), and also Twin Peaks Ultra goes there TWICE.  Looks like I’m the deer staring into the head lights. 

I decided to ascend West Horse Thief instead of descend today.  To get to West Horse Thief, I first needed to run 2 1/2 miles of shady, gnat-filled Trabuco Trail.  After a couple of gnats actually landed on my eyeballs, I put down the sunglasses and ran in a dark forest.   

Trabuco Trail: 

West Horse Thief in the morning was lovely.  I ran mostly in the shade with awesome valley views, and also views of Santiago Peak.  I practiced my power hike on the steepest portions and ran the less steep portions.  Before I knew it, I caught up with two of the mountain bikers I met in the parking lot.  They were flabbergasted.  “Do you ever see anyone RIDE up this trail?” they asked. 

“Only down,” I answered. 

They realized first that we met when I drove into the Holy Jim lot. 

“Hey, weren’t you guys going up Trabuco?”

“We ARE,” they both replied.

“No, you’re on West Horse Thief.”  They practically did a backflip laughing.  They laughed even louder when they asked me to describe where they went wrong.   I told them that at the sign, they needed to follow the arrow pointing to Trabuco.    Very cool guys to be able to laugh at themselves.  And friendly.   

Anyway, the best thing about West Horse Thief is that it’s getting easier, AND I’ve got it memorized, AND it’s really over before I realize it. 

Pointing out Santiago Peak from West Horse Thief:

Next up, I ran the Main Divide for several miles up to Santiago Peak (about 4.5 to Holy Jim and 2.5 more to the peak).  Heat was EXTREME.  And I passed several groups of hikers resting in the shade at the top of Holy Jim Trail.  I noticed about 3 of those hikers tying bandanas around their faces, to avoid the gnats no doubt.  I wanted to tell them that doesn’t work – I’ve tried it.  It only nearly made me suffocate.  But I decided they would learn that soon enough.  I learned the best way to deal with gnats is to breath through the nose, put up with them landing on your face, and wear earplugs for music (because they WILL fly into your ears).

About a mile away from the peak, I also met two male hikers coming down, they were so ecstatic and friendly, I asked if I knew them.  It seemed that I had to know them by the way they were acting.  They said, “No.  We just haven’t seen ANYONE, and all of a sudden here comes you, A LADY!  Great job!!!”   They knew how to do this hike, I could tell by the driven way they progressed down the trail in the heat.  

The Main Divide:

Santiago Peak:

I met even more hikers as I made my way down.  It seemed I was a novelty.  They had all come up via Holy Jim and wanted to know which way I had come.  No one had heard of West Horse Thief, and most wanted directions.  I didn’t give them the nitty gritty about how you want to die the first, second, third, etc. time you go up that trail.  But I gave them precise directions.  If they can hike to Santiago Peak, they can hike up West Horse Thief.

I took Upper Holy Jim on the way down, that very tricky single track.  I met several hikers.  I also came upon a group of young men and a few ladies resting in the shade.  They seemed the “survivalist” types, clean cut, wearing khakis with their knives in holders on their belts.  I wear mine simply clipped to my pack.  Anyway, the entire group stood up and moved so that I could pass. 

I thought that I’d make good time running down “lower” Holy Jim.  Turns out, that’s when I felt the effects of heat exhaustion begin to set in.  I felt just like I did when I DNF’d Bulldog a few years back.  I felt overheated to the core, lightheaded and wanted nothing more than to lay down in the dirt.  I put my hands on my knees and stood in the shade for a few minutes then took off, conserving fluids.  About a mile later, I caught sight of the rockslide near the spring that I often refill at and began guzzling my fluids more frequently.  At the spring, I drank up, filled two of my handhelds and emptied my shoes of rocks.  Then I drenched  my head with that cold spring water.  I also washed my face, drenched my head again and draped it with a cold, wet bandana.  I felt revived.  But not enough to run a fast pace to the canyon floor.

I took the remaining 3.5 miles at a comfortable pace, practicing my pivots at the switchbacks.  I met many suffering cyclists, all going down.  I also came upon many, many hikers going up, all seeming like they weren’t carrying nearly enough fluids.  When two cyclists passed me at a slow pace, I stepped to the edge and nearly fell back.  I felt a great camaraderie when one of the cyclists reached out to grab my hand and pull me back. Both guys apologized profusely when they didn’t do anything wrong. 

After I passed the detour to Holy Jim Falls, I came upon dozens and dozens of hikers, all making their way or leaving the falls -- more hikers than I have ever seen making the trek.  With about 1 mile remaining I crossed the creek where a male and female hiker sat down to rest on their way to the falls.  They were young, very young, probably 19 or 20.  Their hair was shiny, their skin smooth and flawless.  As they each took out a perfectly white cigarette to light up, they asked me this, “Did you run to the falls?” 

I nearly busted up laughing.  But I held it in.  I didn’t want to shame the young couple.  I mean, “Did it look like I had run 1.5 miles to the falls and was now returning?”  My clothing was crusted in salt.  My head was draped with a bandana, and I had just saved myself from heat exhaustion. 

I stopped briefly and told them where I ran and they both laughed and said, “That’s crazy!!” 

I replied, “You’re right, that is crazy; I AM crazy,” and I bid them farewell and a good time at the falls.

This running adventure should be over except for one thing.  The parking lot was full as I did some minor stretching at my truck.  I could hear a branch snapping, a distinct sound that I remember from my youth.  When I was about 17 or 18 I was playing Frisbee in the forest (yes, this is true, my husband-to-be was there as well) when suddenly we heard a loud creaking sound.  We all stopped to listen and witnessed a tree simply fall to the ground before our eyes. 

Well, I heard this exact creaking today.  And it grew frequent.  I could tell that it came from above from one of the several enormous trees that a row of cars, including mine parked beneath.  I hurried to unlock my truck and drive away when in my nervousness I fumbled.  Another woman was walking around her car.  And then we both heard it, the loud creak, then CRACK.  Having no idea where this thing might land, I ran away from the sound, to the back of my truck and stooped down beneath the truck bed.  The other lady ran too.  She hollered something out loud.  Stooped down I hollered back, “Where is it?” 

“Above the white car” she said.  With that I stood and looked up.  A huge branch had broken and was now weighing down on another over-sized branch.  That branch in turn was creaking like it would break soon too.  The other lady got out of harm’s way and paced about her van.  I drove out ASAP.  As soon as I got cell service, I phoned the ranger station number that I got from information.  They were closed!  And the recording didn’t even give me the opportunity to leave a message. 

As such was today’s lovely long run adventure.  You too can have this much fun when you hit the trails. 

I’m serious.

Thanks again for reading!

In Way Over My Head

I set my phone alarm last night for 4:30 AM.  As I tossed and turned trying to sleep while the whole house was awake, I made a decision.  My decision was, no Bulldog 50k this year.  This is not the year of redemption for my (so far) only DNF.  This is the year of Twin Peaks, and I’m doing all I can just to finish that 50 miler. I don’t think a preoccupation on Bulldog is the best for me.  

Today’s training plan dictated 22 miles.  Being the middle of summer here in the U.S.,  I’m finding difficulty training for a big fall race, being that it’s so dang hot.  It’s especially difficult when that race is set in the mountains. 

22 miles the plan said, 22 miles I ran.  And after all the heat and torture that I went through, I’d have to say that the best thing that came out of today’s training is that I didn’t die.  Seriously!  And oh ya, I didn’t fall.  Oh, and I didn’t get heat stroke.  Most of all, this run showed me that I’ve got A LONG WAY TO GO and that I have once again bitten off more than I can chew.

So, how do I run a 22 mile suffer-fest in the local mountains on a scorcher of a day without turning around and walking/crawling back to the car?

First off, I left early (but still not early enough).  Secondly, I broke the run into parts.  Without parts I could have never done this run. 

Before “The Parts” / Holy Jim Parking Lot:

About 5:45 AM, coating myself with sunscreen, then putting on a warmer shirt (ha, ha).

Ready to go (the lot is empty except for my truck).

Part 1: Holy Jim Trail (from lot to top, Bear Springs, 5 miles):

The run through the forest was muggy, lots of gnats.  In order to keep the gnats out of my eyes, I wore sunglasses, which meant I pretty much ran in the dark during the first 1.5 miles or so.

Going up on this giant switch-back, back and forth, back and forth.

Part 2: The Main Divide to Santiago Peak (approx. 2.5 miles):

Though only a short distance, this portion was excruciating, especially after the Holy Jim trip.  Besides the steep terrain, I got gnats, biting (horse?) flies and mostly exposed trail (meaning SUN and more SUN).

Running with my training friends THE GNATS.  They’re with me, so that in October when they’re gone, it will seem easier.

A view from Santiago Peak, above the clouds:

Trying for a different kind of pose (okay, you can laugh – I had to think quick!)

Part 3:  Santiago Peak, Main Divide, Upper Holy Jim to Main Divide over to Indian Truck Trail (approx. 5 miles):

Running back to the towers at Santiago (“Talking”) Peak.

Running Upper Holy Jim had lots of tricky and rocky terrain, but at last some shade!  I concentrated so hard on the rocks and not tripping, that once I turned a corner and nearly screamed when I suddenly came upon father and son hikers resting upon some boulders.

Back on the Main Divide, the heat was beginning to wear me down.

Part 4: Indian Truck Trail (In it’s entirety this trail is 6.5 miles one-way, I ran 1.25 down, 1.25 back up today):

Though this part was also short, I found it very difficult.  Even my downhill pace was SLOW.  Really.  I ran through an oven on this trail.  And I also saw the only two runners I would see on this long run.

Heading back up Indian Truck Trail posing before Lilium pardalinum (Panther Lily):

Part 5: Indian Truck Trail to West Horsethief (approx. 3 miles):

These approximate 3 miles were very slow.  However, I was only fooled once by a “false summit.”  Good news, I’m getting to know this mainly uphill portion of The Main Divide.

Part 6: Down West Horsethief, Trabuco Trail back to Holy Jim parking lot (approx. 5 miles):

West Horsethief at last!!  From here it was downhill, a very steep and rocky downhill for the first mile or so.  Then an in and out of shade (forest/desert/forest/desert, etc) for the remainder of the run back to the Holy Jim lot.

West Horsethief comes to an end.

Trabuco, wonderful Trabuco!

I did not gain much confidence on this run.  Rarely did I feel strong.  Mostly I felt doomed when it comes to Twin Peaks.  I tried not to think of that too much though.  I mainly thought, “one foot in front of the other.”   Forget what I said above about the best thing that came out of this run.  The best thing that came out of this run was that I did it.