Take a Break?

"My brain hurt like a warehouse, it had no room to spare
I had to cram so many things to store everything in there."

David Bowie, "Five Years",

Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars

My note regarding the above quote: Best when said screaming, with hands pressed to head, like Edvard Munch's painting, "The Scream."

No one thought when I said I was gonna "take a break" that it meant I wasn't gonna run? Did they? : )

What I really meant was that I was gonna tone it down -- less intense runs, less weekly mileage, and a short break from the hills. That's what I really meant. : )

So, I ran 9.23 lovely, flat miles today, beneath hot sunny skies. They began laboriously, but ended joyfully. I ran along the river (nearly dry on a bike path), ran along sycamore creek trail (an exercise trail with no creek in sight, where I jumped the small hurdles twice), then made my way over to the socked-in marina, complete with cool breezes and ample water fountains.

Really grateful for the time to run. Because later today would not be so good -- I crashed my notebook computer, which is an actual extension of my body. My dog is sick, she's an old gal that I love so much. And an ink pen leaked in my purse, which isn't terrible, but it just added to it all.

What a time . . . what a time.

Heartbreak at Heartbreak Ridge Half Marathon

With the pain in my wrist acting up again, and these dang toe problems I decided to take it somewhat easy this week as far as running goes. Eleven miles on Tuesday, then it was just fun non-running workouts for the other days. Thursday, I swam. After 3,000 yards, I felt I could do more, but dried myself off nonetheless, because I've got this Writer's Conference looming ahead and lots of chores at home.

And then the wrist pain attacked without mercy. I'm referring to the injury from Santiago Truck Trail (Slam Dancin' with the Trail) and then the re-injury at Bulldog 25k. After crawling in the mudrun last week, the swimming really did my wrist in. Thursday I slept restlessly all night, waking in pain constantly.

Friday, I took the day off and immobilized my wrist. To bed by ten I had another weird, restless night of sleep, I figured that Saturday's half marathon, though a "trail" run would be relatively easy. Besides that -- I took it easy this week.

I had a long drawn-out drama dream the night before this race, about me trying to convince some adult children to attend the 4th or 5th wedding of their drunkard father. He was really in love this time and was gonna change his life. One daughter was in tears as I tried to convince her to sing at the wedding. Before I knew it, I too was bawling over the phone re: her pain. After finally convincing all the children to attend, I guzzled champagne like water, and searched a department store for an open bathroom (I couldn't find any!). Then I woke. The clock read: 7:05 AM. My half marathon started in 55 minutes, and if I didn't jump up now, drive 80 miles an hour on an empty tank, I wasn't gonna make the start line in time!!! What a morning : ( I barely had time to brush my teeth, but I made the start line with minutes to spare. Amazingly, I got a parking space right up front.

They were out of t-shirts (no big deal, I have too many anyway), and the bathroom lines were empty by now too -- as everyone was already lined up to run. I took off comfortably under cloudy skies, the first mile over asphalt complete in 0:9:40. I planned to keep that pace, maybe pick it up some. I really hoped that we'd hit the trail soon, which we did, and I was at ease. : ) I made mile 2 by 0:20:00. My pace was falling, though we were running on a slight incline.

When the tougher climb began, I ran it, not feeling too uncomfortable. In fact, I felt good. Mile three was a ten minute pace. I wanted to pick it up, hoping for more of an average of a nine something pace for the race. At about mile 4 or so, I began a fun descent on that wide dirt fire road. Thing was, the sun came out, and it came out in vengeance. Still, I felt pretty good on this out-and-back half marathon (I really don't enjoy out-and-backs, that is: run to the halfway point, then turn around and run back the same way).

At about mile 5.5 the front runners were passing us on their way back, and I realized that I had been running down hill for quite some time -- too long, in fact. I began to fret about the turnaround, knowing that I'd have to run back up this thing in the searing heat that was now weighing me down.

Just make it to the turnaround, I told myself. JUST MAKE THE TURNAROUND. Worry about the rest later. I was not in a good state of mind though this morning. Having rushed out, and having to deal with these injuries, not to mention the negative self-talk over my persistent procrastination (in general for everything, but in particular, over the writer's conference).

Well, the turnaround came much, much later than I felt it should. Already drenched in sweat, I began to resent the cute little sayings on those Mile Markers. Things like: "The Goal is Pain" -- It is so NOT the goal. It was so not the goal, that at the turnaround I downed three ibuprofens to subside my toe pain.

I don't think I have the energy to relay just how defeated I felt coming into mile eight. One guy ran by and said, "After mile 9, it's uphill for a mile, then all down hill from there." I smiled (because that's how I am, try to make nice) and made some small talk. But I thought, "what the hell is he talking about, we're running uphill right now!" At a bend, I chuckled at the Marine who said, "Just a little hill up ahead, you can do it!"

Little hill my ***.

They were really little hills compared to what I've conquered in the past. But for some reason this morning, I got beat -- completely mentally defeated. I felt like I couldn't take another step. And so I began walking the hills, as did most around me. I ran as fast as I could on the flat portions, which wasn't very fast at all. And I began to think to myself, "just walk the next 4 miles. Or maybe, just quit."

Upon reaching the high point (around mile 10) I felt relief running down hill. It was crucial though I did not fall, so I kept a keen eye on the ground. One more hit to this wrist, I'm gonna end up in the E.R.!

I don't think I could have smiled at this point if I tried. Even on the downhill, I felt I couldn't run another step. And then when we finally leveled off, I did something I thought I'd never do on the flat portion of a race -- I walked. I wanted to quit. I wanted to just walk away from the group and pretend I never started this race. I was SPENT, and doubted that I'd ever run again. I wondered, "What the hell am I doing? Could I be any bigger of a loser." (I'm sorry, but that's really how I felt, utterly and completely defeated.)

And I continued walking as fast as I could, one ambulance passing, then another up a ways loading up another runner. Marines stood out on their balconies watching us come in, and I still walked, feeling ashamed, my eyes to the ground. I mean come on -- 13.1 miles on a trail race with not even 2,000 feet of elevation gain. I can do that -- can't I?

Not today.

Then I remembered a marine yelling out, "just one more bridge to go!" I didn't recall any bridges on this race, but up ahead, I saw a bridge, and so told myself, "when you hit that bridge RUN."

I ran over that bridge, and after a turn in the now paved road, I could see the finish line balloons not too far off. I saw one female racer cut through the parking lot, shortening her run to those balloons. She must have felt like I felt -- SPENT, out of gas.

I finally crossed that finish line at 2:25:55 with the sad, sad feeling that I was finished running for good. I was reminded of Forrest in Forrest Gump when he just stopped running because he simply didn't feel like running anymore.

After crossing the finish line, I grabbed 2 waters, walked straight to the car for a quick stretch. Before leaving the marine base, I filled up the car with much less expensive gasoline than we civilians usually pay, and I drove home.

I wept at home relaying the race story to my husband. I told him that I thought I was done running. That I had been mentally beaten, to which he responded "you're no quitter . . . you just need a break."

That I do.

I guess I have made my decision. No marathon for October, and as I cut back my miles I will finally make it to the doctor for x-rays on my foot and wrist.

And that is the story of my heartbreak at Heartbreak Ridge. Who knew that the title of this race would be so apropos.

Final Standings:

I placed 32 out of 47 women ages 40 to 44.

Overall I placed 781 out of 1,079 civilians.

Solo Run in Aliso and Wood Canyons

After dropping our sons off at school, I took off for my weekly posted run in Aliso / Wood Canyons, this time solo. While I miss the company and the encouragement of the group run, solitude is nice too. I can appreciate both. That's one of the nice things of youth finally being behind you -- it's easier to recognize the benefits in both sides of the coin. And it's easier to "make due" with whatcha got.

So, this morning, I got me a solo, beneath gorgeous blue skies, enormous puffy white clouds, long hilly run. Earphones plugged in, I thought to myself, now's a good time to work through that missing chapter from my novel that I need to write ASAP, else it never get written. But it's a disturbing chapter, and after working through it only a few minutes, my heart pained with sadness, and I decided that my brain couldn't dwell in the darkness on this beautiful trail run. (Though I did work it out enough to know where it was headed and finally wrote the chapter when I got home from work tonight).

The sun shined brightly and hot, as I expected at 8:30 in the morning. Those puffy clouds though, provided enough shade to comfort me, and an onshore breeze added even more delight to this morning's run. While still on Aliso Creek Trail, a large deer, with two stubby velvet antlers on each side, trotted down the path ahead of me. I was amazed -- first by it's size, and secondly by its lack of concern by my presence. Then this gorgeous creature turned into the brush and disappeared towards the creek.

There were bunnies out and about, hawks flying overhead, and black beetles robotically making their way across the trail. And there were lots of tracks -- deer tracks, coyote and bobcat, plus another, large birdlike track, that I haven't identified -- perhaps quail (because I see them often here), but these tracks seem a little big from what I figure Quails would make.

ANYWAY, I ran up Mathis this morning. It's been a long time, and I don't believe that the run up that steep, exposed climb has gotten any easier. But what a delight to do it! My mind didn't wander towards finances, or district budget cuts, or chapters that need to be written, running up that thing. No, I just thought about one foot in front of the other, and not stopping. Do not stop running. Do not stop!

From Mathis, I hit Westridge, which gives some relief at first with a minor down hill, possibly an 1/8th mile, probably less. Then it's uphill on rocky, mixed in with sandy dirt to the Top of the World.

Westridge on the way down was a delight with that ocean breeze and rolling hills. I didn't turn off on Mathis, but continued straight on until Rockit (with a slight delay to fix my camelback, which somehow managed to get air in it). I focused hard on Rockit, so as not to fall in a desolate area where I usually see no one. Then all of a sudden, a female cyclist emerged out of nowhere, spooking us both. We smiled, kinda chuckled.

At the bottom, I turned off onto that enchanted Coyote Run, thankful for the occassional breeze, and plentiful shade above the creek here and there. Upon reaching Mathis, my skin crusted with salt, I joyfully made my way back to Wood Canyon and ran on in all the way to the ranger station, beat, but not beaten.

Lovely run.

Miles logged this morning: 11.27

SBSD Mudrun (What am I thinking??)

So, I was watching a television show this week, called "Wipe-Out", and thought to myself "these people are crazy." I mean, they're putting themselves through terrible obstacles, wiping out in front of everyone for the mere chance of winning $50,000. And a slight chance at that!

When I woke first at 4 AM this morning I couldn't remember what the heck I had gotten myself into for this Saturday morning. Then when my alarm finally rang at 4:45, I thought hard before remembering -- that's right, I gotta get going, I have a long drive ahead, not to mention a mudrun to endure. : ) : (

As I drove through the Santa Ana Mountains, focusing through the fog, sleepy still, and bit hungry too, I thought to myself "What the heck am I doing? I mean, am I crazy? What is my problem that I drag myself out of bed at these ridiculous hours, hit the rode before sunrise? And there's no chance of winning a dime. Not even a chance of placing, or even placing in my age group." I began to grow a bit down . . . what is it exactly that I'm trying to prove?

It was light when I arrived to Kurt's (a friend I have known since I was 12). And as usual, out of darkness, things looked a little brighter. On que, my comedian friend quickly cheered me as we made our way to Devore for the San Bernardino Sheriff Department's Mudrun. This was our second year running the same mudrun together. Last year, though only a 5k, it was tough.

Kurt had not pre-registered, and because he only brought credit cards along, couldn't register this morning. And for the first time in a race, I ran alongside a bandit. That made for some excitement. I don't know what they do to race bandits -- were the deputies going to pull him out of the race, or worse yet, catch him at the Start Line, taser him on the spot?

Clean and Pristine Pre-Race (Maybe Not Exactly Pristine)


Turned out, no one noticed my bandit friend as we ran this muddy race together. Well, I'm sure he was noticed, as my friend is quite a character, flirting with all the young ladies we passed. But no one noticed that he was a bandit. We ran up steep climbs, ran through mud pits. We ran up and down moguls, crawled through thick, sticky mud, slipped in the mud, fell in the mud. We jumped over obstacles, ran through giant pipes, all admist loud explosives -- and, ALL FOR THE FUN OF IT!

Hmmmm.

It was fun, despite the pain (those wipeout people -- they're crazy!). My socks filled with mud, and those fine granules dug at my ankles like sharp rocks. But in no time, it was over. 3.11 miles, even with all those obstacles, well, it's practically over before you know it.

Anyway, Kurt and I finished together (I bettered my time from last year & because he wanted to run together Kurt's time was longer this year -- but it was all for fun, who cares about time. Right? Right.)

Me and Kurt

How One Removes The Mud

Photos I Snapped On Our Way to the Car of Runners Coming in for the Finish : )

"Make New Friends and Keep the Old. One is Silver and the Other's Gold."

Wood Canyon in its Summertime Glory (A Pictorial -- mainly :)

As this newfound back-to-school freedom begins to set in, we found ourselves this Friday with some spare time. And so, my husband and I decided on a hike through the lovely Wood Canyon. We started plenty late (about 10 AM) after tending to work, errands and such. And so it was rather warm. I take that back -- it was more than warm . . . it was hot. But we had a nice cool breeze for occasional comfort, plenty of shade, and a beautiful Wood Canyon in all its summertime glory.

Enter Wood Canyon

Buckwheat along the trail

The Lovely Wood Creek Trail

Stairway to Heaven? Think not, but a beautiful trip through Wood Creek Trail

Why I love Wood Creek Trail

Crossing Back over to Wood Canyon Trail

Creek along Coyote Run Trail

Coyote Run Trail


Prickly Pear (Coyote Run Trail)

More Coyote Run Trail

Somewhere on Dripping Cave Trail

Miles hike with husband this morning: 6

Quickest Route to Top of the World

My goal: a short run, but I didn't want it easy, and I wanted trails (which goes without saying that I didn't want easy). I began running at about 9:45 AM, which was problematic due to the heat. But I was determined anyway to once again, run to the top. To make that trip in about five miles, well, that was a first for me. Usually, I do some kind of loop to get to the top and back, totalling between ten and twelve miles. But there is a way in fact, that's much shorter (definitely not much easier)-- it's up that Cholla, then that rolling Westridge to the top.

I took off on a paved downhill from the grassy Canyon Vista Park. As a cool breeze blew, music piped in through my earphones aiding in my determination to run all the way, no matter how hot it got. And it got hot. Hot, hot, hot. Pretty quickly, I ran through that wall of heat and my feet hit the dirt a few minutes in. Then it was exposed trail for the entire distance. Up, up, and away I went on Cholla, which is quite short, about 1/3 mile, but steep, sometimes rocky, and all sunny.

At Top of the World, I talked with a few cyclists before turning around and returning the same way, up and down Westridge, then down Cholla. This was my first trip down Cholla, and needless to say, I focused hard on keeping my balance. About half way down, I took a phone call (so odd these modern days!) from my old-time friend calling to say he'd run Saturday's crazy race with me. "I'm on a sunny slope right now, can I call you back?"

And though I powered up some of those hilly portions (mainly the short ones), I took that last paved hill up to the car running rather slowly. I reached the car absolutely drenched and covered in salt, after only 5.9 miles.

But I loved it. : ) AND . . . I did not fall : )

You Are Now Entering Cholla Trail -- Tread Lightly and do not Fear : )

About a Quarter Way Up Cholla, Looking Back to Trail Entrance and Wood Cyn

Up Up and Away / Summertime on Cholla Trail