Falls

I used to keep track of my falls.  Now it’s been so long, I lost count.  And I’m too lazy to go through old blogs to figure it out.  As far as I recall, this past weekend’s fall was number 9, that’s 7 on the trails and two on the road.  I’m not sure.  But what I am sure about is that this past weekend’s was different.  Different in the way that I hit my face on impact.  I’ve never done that before.

The worst damage I can remember was to my wrist.  My wrist made first impact on Santiago Truck Trail over a year ago, perhaps two.  I remember my running partner, Tom, said he heard the thud and feared it was my head.  I thought that I broke my wrist the pain was so bad.  Then about 2 weeks later I took a terrible spill at a Malibu Creek State Park race (Bulldog counter-clockwise) were I ended up on my back.  I scared all the runners around me so badly, that as I lay on the ground I looked up to a circle of faces, fellow racers.  Oddly, with such a landing, I reinjured that wrist that I thought I broke on Santiago Truck Trail.  The next week I was in for x-rays, and oddly, all was okay with the wrist.  What was bad was my hip.  Go figure.  (Physical therapy for 6 – 8 weeks taught me a lot).

Falls.  They are not fun.  And when they happen, they happen in slow motion.  I’m always amazed at how many thoughts go through my mind during a fall.  I remember my first fall, it was on the road.  The sun had not risen, and I had made a very stupid move that sent me flying down at the marina on PAVEMENT.  Since that was my first fall, and there was not a single other person out there, this was what went through my mind:  “Who out there is going to see this and call an ambulance?” 

Fortunately, I didn’t need an ambulance.  I don’t even remember my bruises.  That was back before I began trails.

Then my first trail fall, I’m not positive, but I believe it was when I was alone and I had “discovered” this new trail.  In awe at its beauty, I thought to myself, I’m going to take this trail EVERYTIME.  At that very instant, I tripped on a root and made the plummet downward.  And I remember thinking a host of things.  One of those things I thought was, “Oh my gosh – I can’t believe I’m falling!  I’m falling.  I’m actually falling!”  That was one of my good falls.  Instinctively when I hit, I rolled, and my impact made minimal injuries. 

And so on and so forth.  Like I mentioned above, I believe the total is about nine.

So falls aren’t so unfamiliar to me.  I’m just extremely relieved when I come out unscathed, or minimally unscathed.  (Right now, my eye is still bloodshot and my chin is purple and my shoulders ache – that is what I call unscathed.)

Anyway, I got to thinking, after my last fall, about my fall count, and I realized that my falling is not exactly inherent to running as a sport or training.  I remembered in fact one particular time, I was about 26 years old, working the corporate world.  I was so young, and more stupid than I am now.  I had spent about an hour at Barnes & Nobles Books spending way too much money on books. (I used to spend hundreds of dollars during my lunch breaks – yikes, how wreck less is that??)  I opted for a last minute lunch at Mac Donald's (Not my first choice).  I remember I was wearing black pumps and black pantyhose when I ran out to my car with a Mac Donald's bag in my hand.  Then suddenly, I fell flat on my face.  I had actually tripped over a wheel stop in the parking lot.  I tore my pantyhose to shreds.  My knee was bleeding.  I remember people walking about, not even noticing that I lay there on the pavement.  And I remember weeping in the parking lot with bloody knees, not because it hurt, because not one single person stopped to ask if I was okay.  Doesn’t anybody care?  I was so naive.

No.  I wasn’t that naïve.  I think I was still hopeful.  HOPEFUL.  Does it make sense when I say that the trail is hopeful?  Falls like mine at the Mac Donalds more than twenty years ago are nothing like falls on the trail.  If there’s people around and I fall on the trail, THEY STOP.  If someone else falls.  I stop.  I gasp.  They gasp.  They ask if I’m okay.  I can fall in the middle of Highway One, blood gushing from the knees and no one will stop.  Out on the trail.  Runners, bikers, hikers, they all stop and they help. 

Why is that? 

Even though my friends and family are nervous about me running trails.  I actually feel safer, despite the falls.  Trails are actually the kinder and gentler place to run.  I tell no lie (right now : ).

Big Baz Winter Trail Series / 15K

Would you think that I was crazy if I told you I ran another trail race this weekend – less than a week after Calico?  I don’t know what got into me, but I did.  Yup, I ran the 15k of Big Baz’s Winter Trail Series.  And I’d do it again!

I had no expectations.  I knew it was going to be tough, shortish, but with big climbs.  Amazingly I felt strong.  I kept a good pace, so much so in fact, that the garmin didn’t tell me to speed up for a long time.  I had lots of fun.  For most of it, that is. 

Waiting for race to start

The day was gorgeous.  And the 15k course even more gorgeous.  It was a good 95% single track.  And it had plenty of shade – I’ll never complain about shade : )  Plenty of rocks, all sizes littered portions of the trail as well.  So those beginning downhills were quite tricky.  Rain erosion made other parts just as tricky by splitting the single track right down the middle with a deep gulley.

The beauty in this course

The climb back up begins

Not hurting too badly yet

SO!  I was nearly finished with this race, and oh, so tired.  I tripped twice, and my legs cramped up momentarily.  And then on the climb up, I came to a short downhill on that single track right alongside a cliff.  The cliff was lined with what looked like thorny brush, from what I recall.  It was shady, and quite lovely, and I wanted this race to END.  Suddenly, I tripped again.  But this time, I went down.  And for some reason, I didn’t do my usual hit and roll to the side – perhaps it was that cliff that changed my fall style.  Perhaps it was the leg cramping that occurred at impact.  I remember my left knee making impact, and my right hand too.  But I mostly remember my face smashing into the ground and my chin hitting a rock.  Well, I jumped up, I mean jumped up, mainly because I didn’t want the girl behind a ways to  catch me and also because I didn’t want that cramp to travel to other parts.  I looked down at the rock that I hit my chin on, thought about carrying it in for a souvenir then said forget that!  Then before taken off on a slow trot, I started to dust the dirt off.  I was covered head to toe.  Suddenly I thought No, let the dirt be, I want to come in all dirty.  I didn’t know what my face looked like, and I kinda wished that I had a mirror.  I could feel that there was no blood, but if I looked scratched and bruised in the face, then I wanted the head-to-toe dirt to match : )

Fortunately, though the left side of my face slightly aches, the only visible damage is a red eye and an ugly blackish-purplish bump on my chin.  Several hours later as I write this blog however, I can feel the impact all over.  Not in bruises or cuts (though I did notice a cut on my pinkie finger and a tiny rock embedded in another), but in just an overall kind of jolt injury.  If you know what I mean.  It was like my brain shook and all my limbs and torso stopped momentum in an instant (kinda like a car wreck : (

I crossed the finish line smiling, and before everyone went home, even before several others crossed some time later.  I stayed a bit to see the winners take their awards and I laughed at (with) Big Baz as he entertained the crowds.  Then I was off back home.

Miles logged this morning:  9.56

Elevation Profile: +1,644 / –1,654

Run for Fun

I admit I was pretty crazy in my last post.  I was just a little angry with myself for throwing out my goals at the last minute.  I’m better now, attitude-wise that is.  I’ve still got this nagging cold, though it’s bearable.  I spent the past few days foam rolling, doing floor exercises, jumping up the backyard porch steps.  I didn’t have it in my heart to run, or even go to the gym.

Today it was time run.  A time to run for fun.  My favorite wilderness park (Aliso / Wood Canyons) finally opened after our heavy rains.  I set out with no distance or trails in mind.  I wasn’t even sure which trails were open. 

I won’t lie.  The climbs were tough.  I struggled more than usual.  But I enjoyed the stress free I-don’t-HAVE-to-do-nothing attitude.  I could run wherever I wanted, as fast (or as slow) as I wanted, and I could stop whenever I wanted.

Turned out that I ran a rather leisurely pace up to Top of the World.  And I stopped only a few times to snap a picture.  Erosion was evident.  Skies were clear and blue.  And the weather, well I dressed for my 10:00 AM run at 7:30 AM, so I was QUITE warm. 

Erosion on West Ridge

More Erosion on West Ridge, nearing Top of the World

Park Avenue Nature Trail (a little detour from Top of the World to West Ridge)

Miles logged my first time back after Calico: 6.59

Elevation Profile:

Calico Ghost Town 30k Trail Run 2011

I really don’t know where to begin.   I lied during the race, because I said I didn’t care.  It mattered before, because I worked my ASS off.  And it matters now, because I have regrets.  I had dreams.  I had aspirations.  I trained hard (but for only a short while).  I wanted to CONQUER Calico.  Did I?  Well, depends on how you define it. (Before your are an athlete you think it’s defined, afterward you have no ideal, because you can’t really know what defines an athlete : ) {If you’ve been reading along – sorry, soooooo sorrry}

My husband said I could throw him underneath the bus in writing this blog.  In fact, he urged me to “throw him beneath the bus.”.  I didn’t want to do that.  But heck, maybe I should.  Because I suppose the “whole” story is the “best” story.  Isn’t it?

Truth is, the 2 1/2 hour trip up to Calico, my husband and I argued a great deal about stupid sh*t.  I suppose it started earlier.  But it really erupted about halfway up the mountain.  And I cried and cried and cried.  My eyelids were practically swollen shut.  I really thought that I tried to calm the situation, because I know how important my mind is in running a long distance trail run.  A calm mind makes all the difference!  (doesn’t it?  doesn’t it???)

I think only runners, or maybe athletes in general  (though I don’t really consider myself an athlete) understand this:  A clear mind makes all the difference.  Mind over matter.  Believe me.  I’m 45 years old.  If anyone can tell you.  I can. 

I had been sick for days (I believe four days) and by the time I reached the summit up to Calico Ghost Town, with all my crying and such, I just said F**** it.  I’m not running.  I can’t do it with this mindset.

And then we (all five of us) drove on in silence . . .  And my hubby said “YOU HAVE TO RUN. . . YOU JUST HAVE TO RUN.”  And being the evil wife, I said, “NO.  I CAN’T.”

So, there’s me throwing my husband beneath the bus.  I can’t really do more than that (though I despised him at the time, because I really, really wanted to spend my passenger driving time meditating), but despite arguments and all, even wanting to THROW HIM UNDERNEATH THE BUS!!!, I love him, and he is really supportive for my silly hobby.  Trail running that is, I can’t say he is to blame.

I continued to cough and blow my nose that evening.  And since I decided F****, THIS,  I even had two glasses of wine at Peggy Sue’s Fifty’s Diner.  My husband said, “Are you sure you should drink that?”  I said with draggy eyes, “I really don’t care.”  (Despite my feelings for him at that point, he was supportive enough to drive me to heck and back and wait for hours and hours for me to cross the finish line : )

Downtown Calico Ghost Town (Bib Pick Up)

I bedded early, leaving hubby to deal with three misbehaving boys.  Why misbehaving?  Heck, I don’t know.  Maybe because they’re boys and I don’t know what the heck I’m doing in life as far as training youngun’s,  About 8:30 pm I remember sleeping and continually waking because mainly boy NUMBER THREE (pictured above) was up to mischief.

I believe I woke every hour.  And I reached for my cell phone, also my alarm clock, to see the time.  I coughed, I hacked.  In denial, I said to myself “allergies.”  I have them sometimes.  I dreamt  also OVER AND OVER that I was running.  But I really couldn’t run.  I kept falling.  And when I could stand, I could hardly lift a foot.  It was like my feet weighed a hundred pounds.  And so I went onward heavy laden, suffering, in agony.  In my dreams that is.  I also rode plenty of falling elevators. Over and over again, though somehow pleasantly.  (Riding falling elevators pleasantly is fairly rare.)

6:00 AM my husband took the 2 youngest of our sons, shoved them in the truck and drove me 3 miles to the start line.  Before leaving, I pleaded, “Wait, I’m freezing,” and he waited in the truck with our younguns, as I ran back to our room for some long sleeves. (Which I of course promptly dropped at the first aid station).

I arrived a good hour early to Calico Ghost Town (& I was happy for my husband for going thru that crap – really it is crap to run an early race alone).   And I don’t know if most of you know, but Calico is supposed to be haunted.  Funny.  I don’t really believe in “ghosts” as we traditionally describe them (though I believe in in them “untraditionally.”)  Before I sat down in the rocking chair on the saloon  slab before the race even started, the CHAIR ROCKED by itself.  I’m serious.  It rocked in unison as I sat down to film my  chat before the event.

So how many pages should I make this blog?

I could go on for ten, maybe twenty . . .

I started this run not caring.  I chucked all goals the night before in our arguments.  I just wanted to enjoy running in the desert.  Most people don’t realize that the high desert is gorgeous .  That’s what I love about trail running – the enjoyment, the beauty.

Funny thing, I saw familiar faces.   I saw Larry from OCTR. I recognized someone from Bulldog 50k, and also a very nice lady from another race that took Bulldog in the opposite direction when I ran it last spring. 

I chatted and learned a lot about Suzanne those first eleven miles (she was such a delight!!).  And I really have to say, it was pleasurable. I didn’t care about pace.  I cared about people and their stories; I cared about the beautiful scenery.  I learned a lot about Suzanne, and other tales from other runners on  those first eleven miles.  I saw Badwater Ben, who has run Bad Water’s 135 miles more than once.    He took pics at the beginning of our delightful, yet  gloriously colorful  morning run, and then again at the end when I wanted to collapse.  (about 4 miles left, I had a knee injury – nothing drastic, just that dang old knee slid out to the left without that youngun’ thing there to help.)  

I never tired drastically.  I should have on this 30k which was “relatively short”.  Actually it was a long 30k, not 18.66 miles, but 19.23 miles.  Heck.  I want to write something more profound about this race.  Well, here it is:   what I love about trails.  We’re all accepted.  It doesn't matter.  That’s all I ever wanted.  To do something fun, that didn’t matter.  19 miles.  I can do that.  And I should be able to do it much faster.  Really.  I DIDN’T  CARE at the race start (but I cared toward the end).  All that training, and I couldn’t come in faster!

Though I cried after crossing the finish line because I crossed with the worst time ever with me ( & my oldest son held me tight whispering that most people couldn’t even make that run).  He  held me for some time because he knows the pressure of first chair and honor orchestra, something  I could never understand.  I doubt that he “ really understands” though I hope that he does.  It’s also the camaraderie, not the competition that makes these races, these competitions the lesson.  FRIENDS.  Though we may pass them by in life . . .  there’s those we meet that makes a smile upon your face, like I did, a lady named Suzanne . You did a great job Suzanne!

Suzanne & me at the 30/50k split

The Home  Stretch / 30K Beautiful Run

All I can think about here is ICE for the knee

Photo Compliments of “Bad Water Ben.”

Old School House

 

Okay.  I’m tired.  Mainly my quads.  19.23 miles for this race logged.  Afterwards 2 park employees asked my race time, and I responded gloomy, “about five hours.”

“That’s six hours less than it would have taken me,” one of them said.  The other guy chuckled and added “That’s six days less than it would have taken me.

Calico Ghost Town 30k Elevation Profile

The movie, because if you visited before, I’m silly : )

Calico Ghost Town 30k Trail Run

The Race Report Begins . . .

The race story never begins the day of the race, does it?  Well, here I am sick, my second day (just five days before my much looked forward to race).  I spent all day yesterday in bed.  Went off to work for three hours, returned and after dinner, crawled promptly back in bed.  Feeling better today.  Want so much to run, even if it's pavement.  The gym would be good too.  But I'm still achey, throat is sore and congestion thick.   I HAVE to get well by this weekend.  And I'm so afraid that if I don't rest, I will make myself worse.

Such is life.  Perhaps this rest will make me better for Calico : /

Tapering (& checking trails)

Saturday I set my alarm early for a paved run.  I woke so tired and cold, I decided to sleep in.  I mean way, way in!  I’ll call it tapering.  Later that afternoon, I took a drive to Aliso/Wood Canyons park, just to check.  Just to check how bad the trails were, and if there was a way I could sneak in.  I drove over Amwa bridge which was reinforced and posted with warnings against stopping and auto weight limits (no cars over 16,000 pounds – like I know how much our truck weighs).  Needless say, I drove across the short bridge very quickly. 

Gates were locked up tight, and the station looked empty of rangers.  I took a public upper dead-end road that leads to about the halfway mark on Aliso Creek Trail.  I could see from above that the creek was within its normal banks and the trail looked pretty clean.  And then at the cul-de-sac, the service entrance into the park was a ranger sitting in his truck : ))))

I got of my truck, he got out of his, and we walked toward each other, meeting at the gate.  We talked.  Apparently the trails aren’t going to open until next week.  Feeling a bit needy for trails, I asked about the unmarked ones on the other side of Top of the World, the trails that lead down to Laguna Canyon – they don’t seem to be part of any official trail system.  He smiled with a sly look and said that they weren’t monitoring them, and that if there’s no sign, well, that I could give it a try. 

“Are the slopes stable?”  I asked.  “Oh sure,” he said.  “Thing is, they’re awfully muddy.” 

And so I decided against driving all the way around (probably 10-15 miles) for a tromp in the mud.  Instead, I set my running gear by the door then set my alarm early once again for a run on the pavement Sunday morning (today).  Then after a movie with my oldest son, I snuggled into bed fairly early.  I woke, turned on the wall heater full-blast, surfed the internet, drank TWO cups of coffee.  Then I fell promptly back asleep on the couch.  When my middle boy woke, he covered me with more blankets, and I snuggled in deeper to sleep (hearing occasionally the ohhs and ahhs of Dragon Ball Z on the t.v.).  I didn’t wake until 10:30 AM!!

What is the matter with me?

Tapering.  That’s it.  I’m tapering.

I did manage to get in some speed training before heading out with our boys to visit my folks.  I felt like I had to get in SOME running.  So I used the local paved hills.  And I beat my fastest speed work pace of 6.44 with a pace of 6.23!  Of course, that’s not for a whole mile, just the speed burst.  And I have to say that I felt like I was going to fall flat on my face.

But I didn’t.  (Unbelievable.) 

One more week!  Just one more week . . .