Kitty on the Trail

The first thing this morning I checked Aliso/Wood Canyons website. CLOSED. I held out hope though, because the note was dated yesterday. 7 AM the park usually opens, I called to receive the message that it was closed due to muddy conditions. I still held out hope. After dropping my two oldest boys off at school, I phoned the park on my way back to the car. Same recording: CLOSED. Back at home, I checked the website and phoned again. Same answer: CLOSED.

Heck. I figured I better just get my youngest ready for school and prepared for a road run. Minutes before walking out the door with my antsy five-year-old, I refreshed the internet page one last time. It was about 8:45 (An hour and 45 minutes after Aliso Wood Cyns opens) and wouldn't you know it! The announcement read that the park was OPEN.

Well, somewhat ticked -- no a bit more than that, I rushed about my bedroom. I was prepared for a road run. I couldn't wear pants on the trail, I had to change my shoes, and my socks, not to mention find a handheld and fill it with water! Besides all that, it was way too late to go for a trail run. I worked this afternoon/evening -- I had way too much to do.

But I wanna run on dirt : (

After dropping my boy off at preschool, I drove on over to Aliso, still ticked and hit the trail wearing gloves and long sleeves -- but shorts mind you, my ipod, water, trail shoes and socks. (What's the difference between the socks I wear on the road and the ones I wear on the trail? Well, I wear any ole' socks for the road, but for the trail, I wear socks that sweat well, and socks that are firm around the ankle so that less debris can get in . . . just in case you were wondering).

Have I mentioned that I was angry? People who know me well, know that I am a planner -- I know well in advance when I am going to run, when I'm going to swim, when I'm going to get gasoline. Seldom do I do anything spontaneous. Needless to say, this morning -- not knowing, then deciding on the road, then changing last minute to a trail, well that threw me off. And so . . . I decided to RUN UP MEADOWS TRAIL. Tell me why Angry = Running up Meadows Trail? I'm not sure myself. I've only ever run it once with fellow runner Tom. And had he not convinced me, I probably wouldn't have run up Meadows yet.

I ran Aliso Creek Trail, which wasn't too muddy (and saw my Blue Heron friend), then turned off onto Wood Canyon for a quick left onto Meadows. Fast to get into my groove, I was not at all stressing over facing the climb. I was just running, listening to my music, thinking about nothing, but noticing bobcat and coyote tracks in the mud. Then up ahead, I saw a bobcat. He simply sat there on the paved trail that runs adjacement to Meadows Trail for a bit (Aliso Creek Trail). He was light, a grayish-brown with dark spots. He sat up straight, his ears pointed, looking right at me.

Can you believe that I didn't bring a camera? Alas, I did have my phone! I snapped a shot, then wondered what to do. I didn't want to cross his path running, figuring that might trigger the cat to chase me. I'm sure that I could fight off a bobcat, but he could probably do some good damage, leave some deep scratches. I took a step forward, slowly, and then another, and another. He just sat there, staring me down. I looked directly at the beauty, not wanting to show hesitation or fear, and I was sure as heck not gonna turn my back on the creature. Honestly, I wasn't too worried; I was more curious, wondering how it was gonna end.

Looks like an itty-bitty kitty in the picture my phone captured


Heck! I had the phone in my hand anyway, so I decided to phone my husband. I told him how I didn't want to run past the bobcat, and with each step the cat wasn't budging. He suggested throwing a stick or a rock in his direction. Not liking that idea, I took hubby's second advice. Just keep on slowly walking on the trail. I did that and the cat eventually, so, so, slowly backed up, And then he finally turned around, but kept his head turned back, looking at me the entire time he crept back into the brush. When I was certain that he was off and on his way, I picked up my run, crossed the bridge and headed up Meadows Trail.

Meadows was muddy and difficult to run. But not as difficult as the first time I ran it. A bunny thrashed through the brush so loudly that I literally jumped back when he darted across my path. At one point RUNNING UP MEADOWS, I had to grab onto branches to keep from slipping in the mud. It was great fun, salty, sweaty, how am I doing this fun!

Great relief to reach the top. Then when this lady (me), who had no time at all for a trail run, made the BIG loop. That is across the neighborhoods, along Westridge to a final descent down Cholla. There was plenty of erosion from the rain, mostly on Westridge, which had crevices so wide, it reminded me of an earthquake fracture. Cholla took all that rain pretty well. Wood Canyon was in good shape, with sandbags placed here and there to divert the runoff. I passed the other Blue Heron, and also a woman sitting high up in a sycamore tree. Her legs were swinging back and forth, her husband (I think) at the base looking up while he rocked a baby in a stroller. (Did this really happen?)

No, it wasn't a dream. When I finally reached the ranger station, one of the rangers said to me, "You've been all over!" And then he offered me some ice cold water from their supply inside. What a treat!

11.64 miles today

Rain, Rain Go Away

Rain poured down upon us this week, not unlike the dental bills that slapped me as well. Thursday, the clouds parted, so I was able to squeeze in a nice beach/marina run, totalling 9.9 miles. I felt relief. That night we celebrated my oldest son receiving his second degree black belt with dinner at a scrumptious Italian restaurant. (Boy, was I glad about those ten miles!)

Friday, it was awards for the boys at their school. Then it was more rain and back to the dentist. Ouch, ouch, ouch. And then . . . and then, a gypsy woman snagged a twenty dollar bill right out of my hand in the Target parking lot. No lie.

I really needed the rain to LET UP. But that, it did not. Squeezed in the gym on Saturday. It just wasn't the same as getting out there and running.

Rain, rain, rain -- all day Saturday. Sunday's race cancelled (therefore, I won't make twenty races this year), I still laid out my gear for a run Sunday A.M. I was hopeful. So, so hopeful.

Up at 5:30 AM Sunday morning, the skies dark, but dry, I laced up my shoes, donned a pair of running PANTS and gloves, zipped up my hoodie, with the hood tied tight around my face and ran out the door at 6:30. It was cold, cold, cold, but that breeze was wonderful.

I headed south first -- the streets were wet and empty. The river that dumps into Doheny flowed with choppy waters. The campgrounds practically empty, I circled them twice before running until the sidewalk ended.

The hood came off quickly, as did the gloves. The sun peeked through the clouds for a bit. Then the black clouds rolled back in. Counting runners as I made my way through the beaches, I never really felt fatigued. I felt relaxed, tranquil. I ran out to the jetty -- thousands of birds flocked about the waters. I ran through the wharf, more and more runners showing up. And I wondered how much longer I'd be able to keep up this run before the rain came down upon us again.

I ran across to the island, a sea lion leisurely swam at the mouth of the harbor. I reached the cliffs, amazed how quickly the miles had sped by. And there at the base of the cliffs, a rescue boat floated just off shore, looking for a jumper who took a dive off the cliffs to end it all. As I ran up the grass park and alongside the cliff path, I could hear the search helicopter and sirens headed in that direction. And way over there on the cliff where the woman had jumped, I saw a person standing. (I heard later at the grocery store, that the poor jumper was with a friend when she decided it was better to die than anything else -- I wondered if that person I could see was the friend. What a terrible night she's having tonight). Terrible. Someone at the store said that the woman was the third jumper off those cliffs this month. Can you imagine?

I can't.

Miles logged this morning: 12.55

Number of other runners out there this morning: 44

A Break in the Rain

Rain never let up yesterday. After a root canal and entirely too much drilling on my teeth, I cancelled my trail run for the next morning. But I knew that I'd be damned if I wasn't going to fit a run in somehow this morning. And somehow, I did. Out the door just before 10:00 AM, I set out, not really sure how much I'd put in. Ended up, I ran 10.7 miles of music, with thoughts of pretty much absolutely nothing. Bliss.

Marina in view from cliffside path


One of several mosiacs at base of pedestrian bridge

Doheny in sight


Capo -- nearing where the sidewalk ends (where I tapped out and turn around)

Doheny

The Wharf

But bikes and scooters are okay.

On the island


Crossing bridge back to mainland : )

Another Run At It (What are you running from?)

Saturday:

Aliso Wood Cyns Park was packed this morning (at 8AM -- much later than I'm usually there on a weekend) -- there were groups of cyclists converging in the parking lot, whole cross country teams mingling about. I drove right on by the ranger station (having finally figured out how to get to the the end of Wood Canyon via automobile without getting lost first -- that is to Canyon Vistas Park).

Skies were cloudy and gray. I wore my sleeves long, a beanie on my head (& I even debated on whether to wear pants). Crowds, crowds, everywhere were crowds. But it was the good kind of crowd, not the mall sort of crowd, or freeway sort of crowd. Crowds on bikes, crowds carrying water, walking sticks . . .

The air was cold as I took off into the canyon. Turning off Wood Canyon Trail right away, I faced Cholla anxiety-free. Then I commenced to run up Cholla the same time with 4 cyclists. Talk about pressure. One of the guys kept a constant lead on me, the other three I left in the dust. Thus I figure: it's a hell of a lot tougher to cycle Cholla than it is to run it. Needless to say, upon reaching Westridge, I promptly tucked the beanie in my belt and rolled up my sleeves.

I saw a lot of people, mainly runners and hikers struggling up and down Westridge, particularly toward the end. I made it to the Top of the World about two minutes faster than Thursday's run and two minutes quicker making it down. I was pleased with the improvement.

Miles logged 5.9

Sunday:

Depression came for a visit this morning when I got to thinking about my reasons for running. I've often heard this question: Are you running away from something or are you running to something? I kinda chuckled when I heard this, never really thought about the question UNTIL TODAY when I wept over the fact that I'm running AWAY. Yes, that is my motivation, that's what gets me up sometimes at 4 AM, that's what puts me on the road driving for hours to run out in the desert, that's what gets me out the door on cold, cold mornings. I'm running away from something. That something is MYSELF. That's why I run! I run to bury my feelings of inadequacy. I run to entomb the loser. And that made me sad.

After dwelling over this for the entire morning and some of the afternoon, I finally laced up my road shoes and ran out the door. I ran straight up the hill and turned to climb another previously daunting hill, reaching the city's high point. I wore no watch, carried no water, didn't even bring a phone. I wore my ipod though, for fear of being alone; I was afraid of what I might think.

Turns out, I didn't think much at all. I ran down to the beach, where the tide was high, the surf rough. I ran up to the rock cliffs, hopped tide pools and climbed up and over the rock wall with waves crashing at my feet. Then after crawling over a huge boulder wedged between the cliff wall and another larger boulder, I took in the choppy ocean beneath sunny skies mixed with rain clouds threatening to burst. Waves crashed up onto the rock ledge as I took this in. I noticed tiny fish swimming in the pools up there.

I took care making my way back down the rock face. A fall here meant a certain plunge into the ocean, with perhaps a few head gnashes along the way. And then I was off again on the sand, running Dana Strands, Salt Creek and Monarch Beaches. It was an uphill climb practically the entire way back home.

And I felt a lot better.

Miles logged: 6.7

Just Enough Time for a Short Run

I didn't have much time this morning. With a desire for hard miles, I drove to Canyon Vistas Park (again forgetting how to get there) and ran down through the finely manicured park into Wood Canyon. Just a few minutes into the trail, I met up with my good friend, Cholla Trail (with very little time to grow anxious over running it). I began running up Cholla the same time as a cyclist made his way.

I said, "After you."

He said, "No, after you." : )

For a while there, I had him beat. Then he finally overcame me about half way up. At the top, he made his way back down Cholla. I took a left and ran up and down Westridge with delight in my heart, sweat pouring down my face. I felt strong and tried to power every hill, making Top of the World in about forty minutes.

Topping off my handheld, I quickly turned back, ending this short run with a well focused speed burst back down Cholla.

Miles logged this morning: 5.9

Looking over the other side of Top of the World (Laguna Beach)

The message that greets me on my way back down . . .

Workin' the Hills

I went for a solo run in Aliso/Wood Canyon Park this morning for some hill work. Very few runners out this morning. I passed one woman running the opposite way on Wood Canyon Trail. There were some cyclists out. Some bunnies and one blue heron. I thought that a nice long warm-up through Wood Canyon would help some with the hills. I'm sure it did. But Cholla was dang hard. I began to feel anxious even approaching it. My run was slow and difficult up and down Westridge, especially toward the end when the climb simply mocked me.

Huge relief to reach Top of the World. I ran through the neighborhoods and about half way through them, passed that same woman I saw on Wood Canyon Trail -- we were doing opposite loops!

Meadows Trail had quite a bit of erosion, which made it difficult to fly down. Music turned to high, I ran down carefully and rather slowly, and even slower back through Aliso Creek Canyon into the ranger station.

Dead-dog tired, I hardly had a moment to rest the remainder of the day. But I was dang happy to have put in those excruciatingly difficult miles. That's what's it all about -- tasting that salt running down my face : )

Miles logged this morning: 11.64