Glad to Run

I hit the pavement this morning, feeling terrible, down, not wanting to run, but knowing that I'd want to run eventually. I made no plan where to run, and though I warmed up some, I felt pretty miserable as I ran into the town center.  Refusing to make any decisions on distance or route, I thought I'd just give it some time, then call it a day if I needed to. 

I looked at my watch when it hit me -- gladness, that is. It was precisely 56 minutes after leaving my front door. From then on out, I enjoyed running through the local beaches, wharf and marina. Taking in more calories than usual (as it seems that on these long runs I am lacking greatly in fuel intake) I felt strong for the remainder of the run.

This is why I keep running even on those days when I don't feel like it. I know it's only a matter of time, usually, when I'm glad I'm out there running.

Miles logged this morning:  17.2

Random Thoughts Re: Falling on the Run

Trail falls, or any fall for that matter, well, they're not fun!  I laugh that I even have experience enough to talk about the subject.  As a child, falls weren't so bad.  I got these "cool" scabs on my knees that I picked off piece by piece.  As a child, the distance to the ground wasn't that far (even from a tree branch it didn't seem that far).  And for some reason, impact didn't jolt me so much (that's probably because less weight impacts the ground at a lesser force -- who knows, I'm no physicist : )

These are my thoughts on falls (I haven't gone back and checked, but I believe at last count, my falls while running totalled nine . . . NINE).  

1)  Falling on cement is way, way, way worse than falling on the trail. 

2)  You must roll with your fall. What I mean by a roll is to somehow at impact, roll to the left or right onto your side.  It just happens with me, there's not enough time to plan it.  If I hit the ground directly with no roll, then I'm injuried FOR SURE.
 

3)  A fall  on the downhill is much worse than on the uphill.  And it's harder to get in that roll on a flat surface -- but doable.

4)  Falls happen when I'm most giddy, like when I can see the end of a long, difficult run.  I remember one case (Bulldog 25K), when I caught site of the youth detention center in the distance. I knew then that I was homeward bound.  I got so giddy, that I took one of my worst spills to date.  (I actually scared the runners around me who swarmed above in a frantic way to help -- I felt badly for putting them through that : )

5)  The first thing that goes through my mind when I'm falling is:  "OMG.  I can't believe that I'm falling!!!"  It's quite frankly amazing how much more goes though my mind in the short period of time it takes to hit the ground -- I think things like, "Who's gonna call the paramedics?"  "I should have seen it coming."  "Not Again!"  And, "What am I gonna tell my husband???

So there you have it, some random thoughts on falling.

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.

Top of the World -- At Last!

I woke to pouring rain at 5:30 AM.  It was supposed to rain, so I wasn't surprised.  In fact, I was kind of relieved, because as I've read recently, "listen to your body," and my body was saying "I Am Tired! I Need Rest!"  

Rain ceased by the time I drove my first two boys off to school.  Clouds parted as I prepared my preschooler for school.  And so I dressed for a run, ignoring my body, still hoping it might rain, because I felt so physically fatigued. 

Rain did not fall as I drove off to break another rule, that is "rolling hills only."  My plan:  run to the Top of the World.  Why?  Because I HAD to.

I know this sounds odd, perhaps you can relate, but I felt fearful, anxious as I made my way to Canyon Vistas Park (entrance to the shortest route to the top).  I hadn't run to Top of the World since February 22.  I didn't know what Cholla Trail would do to me.  Was I going to wrench my hip?  Would I even be able to run to the top?

To begin, Cholla is no "rolling" hill in any sense of the word (though it is only a half mile).  Oddly, I ran it easier than I have in a long time, focusing on "No Resistance."  That's not to say that the trail was EASY.  It  was just easier, much more than I ever imagined. 

Westridge Trail is mostly rolling (except for two steep portions).  Still fearing even a tinge in the hip, I made extra effort to keep a straight column, kick out the back, and relax.  Even with all that effort, I nearly twisted an ankle on Westridge, because I was just so giddy over finally making my way to the top.

Ran the whole way, then turned around and ran back, totalling 6 gleeful difficult miles.  (I'd say those 6 miles were easily equivilant to 12 flat road miles).

I followed orders for the remainder of this adventure:  long cool down, stretched, iced, hip exercises back at home, ALL WITHOUT AN ACHE.  (Now, I just hope that I sleep through the night without hip problems -- oddly, it seems to attack as I sleep or while waking).

But forget all about that!  I ran to Top of the World today. 

Glorious.

PROOF : )

At Top of the World, Looking Down at Laguna Beach and Pacific Ocean

Turning Around and Heading back on Westridge for a Final Gleeful Descent Down Cholla

Wood Canyon Run

Rain fell lightly as I set out on Aliso Creek Trail for another trail run (rolling hills -- just like the P.T. said).  I was so happy to be out there, even in the rain. I was camera giddy, and clicked, clicked away, until I dropped my camera.  It was about then that I decided to screw my head on straight and focus.  Last thing I needed was another trail fall.

Coming into Aliso Canyon (Aliso Creek Trail), not my favorite trail, because .75 mi. is paved.  But today, so happy to be back, I loved this trail.

These little guys were all over the place, big ones, baby ones all making the trek across the road -- I didn't smash a one!


The Remaining .75 miles of Aliso Creek Trail -- actual trail, alongside green rolling hills 

I was pretty soaked turning onto Wood Canyon.  My ipod tucked beneath my clothing was safe, and I was glad that I brought a cap to shield my face from the rain.  The run up and down the relatively flat Wood Canyon however, was gorgeous.  I found it difficult at times though, having lost some of my trail training.  Still, I really couldn't have been happier.  I focused on form when I wasn't awestruck by my surroundings.  And when it got difficult I concentrated on this:  LOSE THE RESISTANCE!  I read in Chi Running that we tend to resist against everything, and if we would just stop resisting, running, life, anything that we find hard, would get a lot easier.  Well, I'll tell ya, it is hard to lose that resistance.  This is how I did it:  I chanted to myself, "No Resistance," and I relaxed my muscles, I imagined them soft, and suddenly I could feel my shoulders drop and my muscles down to my ankles relax.  And for that short period that I could accomplish this, my run literally got easy.  I couldn't hold this focus the entire run.  I'm hoping with practice, it will get easier. : )  Overall, the trail wasn't difficult, it was just on those minor inclines that I haven't run in so long. 

Creek Crossing on Wood Canyon Trail

Spring is in the Air (April Showers Bring May Flowers)

Sheltered From the Rain in the Foresty Parts of Wood Canyon Trail (toward end)






In all, 9 miles logged on Tuesday.  I walked and stretched for a good long cool down afterward.  No hip ache whatsoever on the run, and pretty much all of the day.  Except for when I did my hip exercises   : (  a stiffness, slight ache crept in.  I'm just so thrilled I got out there on Tuesday -- thrilled to make it to the trail before the real rain falls today. : )

Shoes Anyone?

I spend too much time looking for a matching pair of shoes on my way out for a run.  There's not even enough room in my closet for all my running/walking/hiking/gym shoes, in other words tennis shoes : )

So I dragged them all out from beneath the bed today, piled them high.  Now it's time to go through them and simplify life a bit.