T.O.W.

I call one of my very regular runs TOW which is abbreviated for Top of the World. It’s regular because parking is easy, it’s close and it’s quick, and at the same time it’s somewhat difficult. The route, if you have ever visited this blog, I’m sure is familiar: From Wood Canyon in Aliso Viejo up Cholla Trail, and then West Ridge (taking all the tiny side detours) up to Top of the World in Laguna Beach. I once again got the wonderful opportunity to run TOW recently, on Wednesday, March 30, during a mildly warm afternoon. The Prickly Pears were blooming full force. The occasional breeze was cool, and the trails were active with hikers, runners and bikers. Nothing eventful happened, which can be a good thing or a bad thing. I’ll say it was a good thing. Nothing eventful happened except for wonderful stories of nature showing its face.

6.58  miles / 10.6 km, 901’ / 274.6 m  elevation gained

Old Goat 50 / A Quick Behind the Scenes

Just when I was getting the posts caught up, I’m falling behind again. So, I’ll make this quick. Last Saturday, March 27, Old Goat 50 took place. Old Goat 50 is a 50 mile / 50 k Old Goat race that I coordinate volunteers for. This race went smoother than any race that I’ve coordinated to date. And the credit is not mine; it all goes to the volunteers. We always have great volunteers who give so much of themselves – so much time and energy all for free. This time it was especially true. The number of aid station workers was slim due to it being Easter weekend. But even short staffed, they came through like champs. We also had enough drivers, such wonderful, wonderful drivers, who really made it all a success.

I regret that I did not take a photo of every single volunteer. In awe again.

A few behind-the-scene shots:

I set out the day before – this was the view from my home:

Net Control:Course Sweeps:

Lower Blue Jay Aid Station with race director Steve Harvey:

Driver loading up (left) to take Santiago Peak AS volunteers up the mountain (right):

Posing with the crew from OC4Play

Chasing Euphoria

I mentioned recently receiving a sense of euphoria during one of my recent runs, though I don’t talk about that aspect of running much. It’s that feeling I get once in awhile on my runs. It’s a feeling of perfect intoxication, exhilarated sort of, but softly. It is more than happiness. It’s kind of an out of this world joy. Actually, it is simply pure joy, like I am at one with everything, that I understand and accept everything, that nothing is a problem -- everything is perfect -- the weather is perfect (whether it’s storming or sunny), my steps are perfect, the world is perfect. Oh wow, you would think this is the reason I run. But it’s not. I didn’t even know about this feeling until I had been running for a while. And even now I never know when this euphoria will hit on a run. I cannot go out there expecting it. And I certainly don’t run or chase after it. It’s just not something I can chase after and catch. It’s just an unexpected gift that happens occasionally. As a matter of fact, if I try and go after this feeling, or manufacture it by possibly running the same course, or doing the same thing that I was doing when it last happened, it will never hit me. It’s when I totally forget that this wonderful added gift of running even exists, that it gently hits me again.

Hardly ever does this feeling come to me two times in a short period. But it did recently. Tuesday, March 22, just the second run after my last euphoria,  I set out on Tijeras Creek and ran down to Arroyo Trabuco for an out-and-back into O’Neil Park. From the onset, my step felt quicker than usual.  But I still looked forward to a long 12 plus mile run that would surely tire me out. It never really did that to me -- yes, I felt fatigued here and there, but never wiped out.  

The creeks were semi-full. The air was cool and breezy. Everything was green and the grass was tall. Though I wasn’t running quickly, the miles seem to pass quickly. I tend to break each way of this route into three portions, with the first portion measuring about 2.5 miles, which on the back is the last portion. It was during this last 2.5 mile portion, when I hit the shade after a quick downhill that the euphoria hit me. You can imagine my surprise and delight to have this happen so soon again. I just rode the wave.

12.12 miles run

I know I said that I can’t chase after euphoria, and I wasn’t doing that when two days later I set out again on the same trails for the same out-and-back. Thursday, March 24, I just had a lot of spare time and wanted to go on a mindless run. Arroyo Trabuco is the perfect place to go on said mindless run. It’s not too dangerous – no cliffs to fall from and such. I know there wasn’t a chance in hell that the euphoria was going to hit again so soon, and on the same trails at that. But I did have a delightful run, and I would have done it again the next day if I did not have Old Goat 50 to work the next couple of days.  Though did not experience that intoxication that I call euphoria, I did feel in harmony with the land. I noticed flowers I hadn’t noticed before. I watched a roadrunner bird sprint about in the fields. And I crossed the creeks seamlessly without getting even a toe wet. One woman stood off to the side watching me move across the rocks, audibly nervous that I was going to fall clapped when I reached the shore. “Wow! Good job,” she exclaimed.

Miles run: 12.29

What a week! And I’m almost caught up.

Palm Sunday Run

Sunday, March 20, I hit the trails after church for solo Palm Sunday run.  It was also the spring equinox, as well as, the Persian New Year (which I know because the majority of my students are Persian).

Anyway, I thought it apropos to run Santiago Truck Trail and take the first steep unmarked single-track up to a cross monument that stands high above the trails there. Over time, people have placed a multitude of little items on the rocks that surround the cross – things like glass, and pieces of barbed-wire. I left the cross that was given to me at church that morning. It was made from palms in Tanzania.

Though the hills were a struggle for me on Sunday. I felt at peace with them. From the monument, I ran out to the vulture crags where I took a seat on the ground beneath the flags flying nearby. The the flapping sound of these flags whipping around in the wind added even greater peace and calmness that I think I really needed. After taking in the view of The O.C. beneath these flags for at least twenty minutes, I headed back and came up on two snakes – one tiny black snake and another larger brown colored one. I also came upon three or four solo cyclists. Total miles run this Palm Sunday:  7.73  with 1,439 feet of elevation gained.