Double Big Loop / Aliso Wood Cyns

In order to get my run-two-loops-back-to-back mindset, I woke early this Saturday morning, and headed for Aliso Wood Canyons for a back-to-back counter-clockwise big loop. 

I joined Tom and Liz who were running an out-and-back on Wood Canyon Trail.  What a delight to have company for the first 4.5 miles of my run today – I knew the next four hours or so after we departed were going to be lonely.  I don’t mind lonely sometimes.  In fact, a lot of times I like lonely.  But too much lonely can get lonely : )

Raring to Go!  Me, Tom & Liz

 
We departed at Cholla.  I ran up, trying out Tom’s Garmin, while he and Liz headed back through the magical Wood Canyon – downhill : )  It seemed like I ran Cholla stronger and faster than I ever had, then I looked down at the garmin, amazed at how much my pace had dropped from running on Wood Canyon Trail.  I decided after that not to look at my pace running up hill.

Still cloudy on Westridge, the air was plump with moisture.  Cyclists road the ridge in hoards.  Hikers in groups of twenty, maybe more made their way along the ridge as well.

Running Westridge, Top of the World not even visible in the mist

After a quick pit-stop at Top of the World, I chatted briefly with two runners, one who just ran a half marathon through Napa Valley vineyards.  Though I was aiming for a five hour run, I didn’t worry too much about chatting a bit.  I mean, life is more important than running, right?  With a bottle full of water and two dissolved Nuun tablets I took off, running the streets to enter the park again, run down Meadows and complete my first loop in a little longer time than expected.  I was okay with that, so happy I was to make that left back onto Wood Canyon, and begin my second loop without stopping.

Gray skies, misty air, I ran Wood Canyon at only a slightly slower pace than the first time around.  I waved Hi to fellow runner Matt as he passed in the opposite direction.  Several cross country high school runners passed in the opposite direction as well, on what I figured was an out and back up Wood Canyon, because they carried no water. 

Running up Cholla was tougher the second time around, and I began to really feel it in my hip.  Westridge was a joyful as usual – I love that rolling hill type of trail.  Though Westridge does have two very difficult stints, they are toward the end, and relatively short. 

I ran into the park as I did on my first loop, as I wanted to check my hydration level (if you know what I mean).  After some off and on shoelace issues, I was off again running through the neighborhoods to re-enter the park near Meadows Trail.

Top of the World for the 2nd time – the sun now gracing us with its appearance  (Not sure where I’m at here, possibly near Meadows, I think I’m looking toward Aliso Canyon . . . actually I HAVE NO IDEA, strange)

At Meadows for second time, about to descend (I am drenched!)

  

I ran down Meadows as several cyclists made their way up and down that difficult switch-back.  Sure I was tired, but delighted that I wasn’t drop-dead tired.  I took the first half of Aliso Creek Trail at a slow pace, rather clumsily, but then picked it up for the second half, pushing it to finish strong.  I never tripped.  I also didn’t kick my ankles once – now, that’s an improvement.   

Miles logged this morning:  21

Elevation Profile (thanks to Tom – I’m new at this, so I had to work on this shot a bit before getting it right, and it isn’t quite right visually.  If you know the trails there, Wood Canyon isn’t quite as steep as it seems in this graph – approximately miles 2 thru 4 and 11 thru 13).

Twenty Miles!

I had to go back to my 2008 log to find a nice flat twenty miler.  I don't own a garmin, so I can't simply run until I hit twenty miles (I measure with Google Earth afterwards). I'm The Planner, remember.  It helps to know my route.  I like to split long runs into legs, or segments.  It's not twenty miles I'm running -- it's 3 legs.  I'll do the same for the marathon in two weeks that I'm not ready for.  It won't be 26.2 miles -- it will be five miles five times, plus 1.2 miles.

I set out this morning, the moon still high, but the sky lit slightly from a sun threatening to rise.  The weather was cold and breezy.  I wore shorts, long sleeves and gloves, but wished for a ski mask or at least beanie as I headed down Highway One.  Surprised to see an "Open" sign at the corner restaurant, I could smell they were cooking bacon.   

Leg One:  8.85 Miles -- Into San Juan Capistrano and back to Doheny Beach

I ran through the community park to get right onto the river walk, aka bike trail.  Last week, I asked an adult student of mine, who I know bikes the riverwalk, whether the bike trail was open, specifically the bridge that takes you over to the otherside.  He assured me it was -- he said that he had "just crossed the bridge a few days ago, in fact."

The sun peeked above the horizon, and I saw soon enough, bulldozers and a big "closed" sign up ahead.  Grrrr.  They've been working on the riverwalk for more than a year!!!  "I'll figure something out," I said to myself, determined to leave negativity behind.  Sure enough, no one manned the machinery, so I hopped right over the yellow tape and continued onward into San Juan Capistrano.  About a mile later, I came to a chain link fence right across the trail.  But I was able to hop off it, run into the dirt a while to get around the chain link and back onto the path. 

There were plenty of other runners out on the river walk.  As I passed one of  them, I asked her whether the bridge was open.  She thought I was waving to her.  She smiled and waved back.  Well, the bridge was open.  Thing was, there was another chain link fence directly across the trail blocking me from the bridge's entrance.  So, I walked down the bank some, ran under the bridge, came up on the other side, crossed the bridge (picture above) and continued my way along the trail.  Ha!

I crossed Camino Capistrano over to Stone Field (a popular soccer field with large stones stacked for "bleechers.")  I felt a tightness in my right calve, wondering about blood clots (my latest paranoia), I stopped for a quick calve stretch.  And then about a quarter mile later, I stopped abruptly and layed in the library grass for a glute stretch, ridding myself of a tightness on the right side as well. 

The rest of Leg One was beautiful.  Purposely leaving my camera at home to avoid extra weight, I found myself pulling my phone out to snap shots.  I ran through downtown, to the train depot where a few families waited in the cold for a train.  There I crossed the tracks into the Los Rios Historic District.  No tourists out, only workmen washing down walkways.  I felt strong throughout Leg One, hydrating with only electrolytes.  I ran the riverwalk back.  Doheny Beach coming into sight in seemingly no time; the start of Leg Two brought gladness to my heart -- I was home again.

Running Through Downtown San Juan Capistrano

Sarducci's Restaurant Along the Tracks, Adjacent To The Depot

Crossing Over The Tracks Into The Los Rios Historic District

A Los Rios Business Storefront

Leg Two: 4.56 Miles

Just as with Leg One, my main focus for Leg Two was "No Resistance."  I felt strong, carefree.   I took in my first 100 calories in the form of a powdered shake with water in my  handheld.  I circled the full campground twice, noticing plates mainly from California and Nevada.  There was one lone Montana plate as well.

Plenty of runners made this leg too, as I ran through Doheny on into Capo Beach.  I turned around where the sidewalked ended, stopped briefly to snap one photo of Leg Two.  I made the campground loop once again on the way toward the marina, the smoke from campfires a bit bothersome.  The wood had an odd odor, like it was treated or something.

Capo Beach On A Cool Breezy Saturday (the cliffs in the furthest background is my turnaround point for the final stretch home)

Leg Three: 7.03 Miles

I switched back and forth between focusing on form and "No Resistance," during Leg Three, which included running out to the jetty, running through a crowded wharf and finally running alongside the harbor.  The sidewalks were crowded with walkers.  The coffee houses and breakfast joints were packed.

I decided to take in my next two hundred calories before crossing over to the island.  Why wait until I'm fatigued to fuel?  My problem so many times with running is that I wait.  I wait to hydrate, I wait to refuel, I wait to stretch.

During Leg Three I found my focus change to breathing -- that is getting a full exhale out before inhaling.  About halfway around the island, exhaustion set in.  It wasn't terrible, and I kept my pace.  Still, I was looking forward to the end of this run.  I was so close now, just about two miles, I just couldn't quit.  And so I kept on going, turning around at the cliffs for that tired, tired, yet accomplished final stretch back home.  I walked up the block to my house for some cool down, then walked around the backyard for a good long while before putting in a nice long stretch.

Turnaround Point at the Cliffs Before Heading Back Home.


Total Miles logged this morning: 20.44
Good News:  No Hip Pain on the Run, No Utter Exhaustion (though I did hit that minor wall on the island), and best of all, I got in a twenty miler before the marathon.
Other News:  Hip was stiff during PT exercises this evening, though I did spend some hours scootering with my boys down at Doheny Beach this evening too.  I also got flack today about my running, not from just one, but two family members (it's been a long time since that's happened); it disappointed me some, because it solidified the fact that they don't have a clue why I run.  And why should they?  You can only know if you KNOW.  From the outside, I realize, it looks ridiculous.

Barely Standing

Feeling rushed to increase mileage, I hit the pavement about 9:15 AM.  With the marathon three weeks away, pressure mounts.  At least it was this morning.  I wanted TWENTY miles.  In my heart, I knew I didn't have the time.  But in my heart, given the time, I thought I could do it. 

The morning started off cold and breezy, and that was a delight.  I didn't feel so strong, but I have this cold that's hanging on.  And maybe I shouldn't have taken that cold medicine this morning.  And then there were the negative thoughts floating about this wacky brain of mine -- two of them precisely, some worries (minor ones really, but annoying nonetheless) that I had no answers for.

Anyway, I flushed away the worries and worked on focusing on form.  And when I wasn't doing that, I made sure to think about NOTHING, which is kinda like focusing on form.  Because when I think about nothing, I just feel, and feeling or sensing form is pretty dang close to focusing on it.

I'd say the first ten miles went pretty good.  And then I made that second loop around the island.  That's when my energy seeped away.  Actually, seeped is too slow of a word -- it's more like it rapidly escaped.  I felt like I really couldn't run another step.  I took in some calories, some electrolytes and managed to plug through another five and a half miles.  But it was pretty much hell.  My legs actually began cramping, which is absolutely unheard of on flat, road runs in the spring.  I was pissed to say the least, and finished this run feeling defeated, afraid that there's no way that I'm going to be able to run a marathon in three weeks.

The rest of the day was solemn.  I did my physical therapy exercises in the evening and felt a slight ache in my hip.  That certainly didn't set my mood straight. 

I guess every day can't be jolly.

Tomorrow I swim.

Miles logged: 15.5 miles

Dirt Tastes A Whole Lot Better Than Pavement

Overslept for a 6AM run (because I need an hour or so before heading off for a long run), I finally made it out the door 6:22. I looked forward to this twenty mile run, not really wondering if I could do it, because I knew that I could. Actually, compared to the trails, I figured it would be a cinch. In the midst of our usual end-of-August heat wave, I carried a handheld for water, with several electrolyte tablets packed in the strap for refills along the way. Good thing. Can you believe it was already warm at 6:30 in the morning? Not just warm, but muggy.

On the way down PCH I met an out of town trail runner who asked for directions to the beach. I told her, as well as, what I thought would be about a five mile run. We joyfully compared the trail to the road, the trail of course so much funner. And I ended by pointing to my scabbed knee with a comment about falling on the trail.

At least I won't have to worry about that on the road!

This is how I progress my way through long runs: I break it into portions or "legs". And I work on just one leg at at time.

Leg One (5.28 Miles)
Leg one started off great, meeting a fellow trail runner as mentioned, I looked forward to some nice solitude, good music. And then . . . AND THEN (I practically weep thinking about it), I FELL! I actually tripped on a sidewalk crack and plummeted forward. I hit that sidewalk hard, knee landing first, and then I rolled to the left (instead of my usual right, I suppose because I held my water in my right hand). All the while, cars whizzed by.

Well, I was pissed. I mean, damn angry, grumbling profanities beneath my breath. How could this happen? I wasn't even running downhill. Scab blown off, my knee bled afresh. After cleaning it with an antibacterial wipe, I applied an over-sized band-aid and put my feet to the pavement, and continued running.

There are differences between falling on dirt versus falling on pavement. First off, pavement DOES NOT MOVE. There's no give whatsoever. That makes for a much harder impact. Also, when I fall on the trail, dirt completely covers my wounds, pretty much stopping the bleeding immediately.

Anyway, there was a dead duck on the sidewalk after that. And the air smelled of gasoline as I made my way inland. Occassionally, glass littered the way. And here and there a single sock laid in the gutter or in the landscaped planters. When the climbing began, I ran it stoically, never stopping (because these beach city hills, though steep, are nothing compared to say, Mathis or Cholla in Wood Canyon). Then toward the city's high point, I noticed a thin rope tied across the sidewalk, attached to a street sign. What the heck? Up a ways, another rope taut across the sidewalk.

The downhill was no thrill for me. My bandage saturated in blood, I moved on through this leg to a paved path that led me down to the city's northern most beach. Plenty of hikers made their way down this trail, which about half way posted a sign that read "Trail Closed -- DANGER of slide." I let my mind wander, thinking about my life, still angry about my knee, my shirt now irritating me as it rode up my waist. And then suddenly, a feeling of despair overcame me. "Don't think, don't think," I told myself. JUST RUN. And so, I kept on running, because I really had no choice as far as I was concerned. Besides that, Leg One's end was in sight.

Leg Two (1.94 miles)
I ran out under PCH to begin Leg Two. Plenty of runners made their way along this beachside path. Not a breeze stirred as I began another climb that ended running beneath the highway for a flight of stairs up to the apartment complex that my husband and I lived in for many years. (memories) From there I made another climb up the same hill I ran down a few miles earlier. I looked to the trees, desperate for air movement. Not a leaf stirred.

Leg Three (2.65 miles)
This leg began on a downhill, back toward the sea. The bloodied bandage weighed on my mind, and my shirt irritated me so terribly, I was about to rip it in two when I decided on a four block detour (8 total for a round trip) to head home for a new shirt and clean bandage.

Back on the road, more comfortable in my favorite green, snagged-up shirt, I ran through the town center where vendors set up today's market. It smelled of bell peppers, onions, nectarines and all sorts of wonderful produce. Few buyers strolled about at this early hour.

I crossed PCH once again and ran to the cliff that overlooks the harbor. The air was still. But my spirits now lifted with a new shirt and clean bandage, I ran down the stairway for a gorgeous run on the historic cliff side trail to end with another stairway back to the road. And then I was back again, running down the same highway, toward the same beaches I told the women how to get to a few hours earlier.

Leg Four (3.86 miles)
This phase was the longest, mentally, and the hottest, yet the flattest portion of the run. It was mainly on asphalt where I ran through a crowded campground that smelled of campfires and cigarette smoke. I ran the straightaway, the waves to my right unseen because of RV after RV parked against the sand.

When the sidewalk ended and I made that last turn around, I was not physically tired, but mentally so.

Leg Five (4.36 miles)
Finally! The beauty of the run! Shade!!! I ran up to the jetty, a multitude of long boarders off to my left waiting for that perfect wave. An actual breeze blew as I made my way through the crowded wharf, restaurants full of morning diners. People lined the sidewalk for day long fishing trips. Several other runners made their way alongside the marina's still waters, very few smiling. It was hot!

Leg Six( 2.44 miles)
Portion six ended coming off the island, where I ran past the marine institute to the cliffs that tower above the small beach there. Tide was high, the surf rather calm. And then it was homeward bound with one last hill to climb, which I ran confidently, all the way back home.

Well, that's enough of the road for now!

Trails, take me away.

Miles logged this morning: 20.53

Falls to date: 8 (But who's counting?)

ps. Back at home I asked my husband, "What's the matter with me? Why so many falls?"

He responded, "Didn't your family used to call you 'Grace' when you were a kid?"

(Well, first of all, I was never a goat, but . . . ) Oh ya, that's right. I almost forgot: I'm a clutz. Okay . . . I feel better now.

All is well in the world. : )