Travels of an Accidental Adventurer

I lugged my swim bag to the gym this morning, locked it up.  My leg still actually ached from Sunday’s Stinging Nettle.  Then I commenced to do a weight workout that tired me immensely – mind you no increased weights, no increased repetitions.  Still I pushed myself through, did some foam rolling.  By the time I finished an ab workout, I knew.  I knew there was no way I was going for a swim.  I was TIRED.  I suppose running around the mountains in the rain kind of did me in for a Monday morning cross-training session. 

By mid afternoon, my energy returned.  But off to work I went (I packed my running gear, hoping I still felt good enough to run home).  You can bet, I ran out the classroom door at quitting time, and took the dirt trail down to the road. The weather was cool, the breeze crisp, but not chilly.  My goal was form.  Just form.

And then I decided, “Hey, why not take the equestrian trail instead of the road.  It looked innocent enough:

The trail was empty.  It felt oh so nice on the feet.   As I ran this trail it became less groomed and naturally I enjoyed that.  I came upon two horseback riders and stood to the side like they were mountain bikers (I didn’t want to spook the horses).  The riders looked pleased and thanked me.  And I had to wonder how many runners used this trail.  I didn’t see any.

And then the trail ended.  I ran across the street that I usually run to get home.  Instead of running through a sports park, down some streets to the bike path that leads to what I call the “riverwalk”, I picked up another equestrian trail with the grand idea of taking a shortcut to the bike path.   I ran joyfully on a path that meandered but remained plenty wide.  The sand was thick, like the dry stuff at the beach.  Strength-training, I told myself. And then the trail turned into a single-track.  Lovely! 

I do after all have a single-track mind.  Vegetation grew thicker and thicker and I kept my eyes peeled for Stinging Nettle.  It grew so thick that I found myself bushwhacking.  I heard a rooster call out twice, which really spooked me.  A rooster?  Really, a rooster spooked me?  It just seemed so odd, like a dream or scary movie.  I mean, where the heck was this rooster in this thickness???

But I kept running through the massive growth.  I took the earphones off, my eyes peeled for trails or anything suspicious or unusual.  And then . . . and then, I found myself boxed in!  (Here we go again – except this time it’s evening, and this time I haven’t told anyone what I was doing, just in case something bad happened).

I didn’t want to back-track.  I hate back-tracking.  My whole family knows this about me.  I don’t back-track in the car.  I avoid it even walking around the grocery store.  I could hear the freeway, oh so close.  The bike path couldn’t be too far off. 

What I thought was bushwhacking earlier was nothing compared to traipsing through the green that I found myself doing next.  I let the bushes scrape against my arms and legs while remaining absolutely focused on my surroundings.

The sound of cars whizzing by grew louder.  And I could see a clearing through some extremely thick vegetation.  I was betting I was no more than a hundred yards off from the bike trail.  I’m gonna do it, I said to myself, just plough through the wall of thick vegetation to that clearing.  So I lifted my feet up high so that I came down upon some thorny weeds (that is instead of scraping against them).  And . . .  then . . . I . . . saw . . . this:

Stinging Nettle!  I slowly backed away like I had come upon a sleeping rattler. 

I backtracked a good half mile, maybe more, relieved to see this horse staring at me, and several more afterward.

And then finally, I came to the end of that park that I usually run through.  I happily, joyfully ran through it, kind of laughing at myself, hoping that I would make it home before dark.

Arrived home before dark, I did, with 7 miles run today.

A Hearty Welcome Back from Holy Jim

I’ve really been wanting to get back to the Santa Ana Mountains for some mountain trail running, specifically up Holy Jim Trail.  I was fortunate to have a taker for the run, Jeremy. 

We arrived to the base of the mountains, Trabuco Creek flowing loudly beneath cloudy skies.  I kept the two layers of long sleeves on (plus a short sleeve that I thought for sure I’d be running in soon) and we headed up Holy Jim.  I rarely run in long sleeves than say, more than a half hour. 

I was surprised how much easier it was to make that gigantic switch-back of a climb, running much of it, compared to the last and only time I “ran” it before (the Saddleback Marathon). 

We crossed back and forth across the stream when rain began to fall.  Fortunately, we had plenty of tree cover at first.  When the switch-back began, the clouds were so thick there was no viewing the canyons below. 

Several other crazy people made their way up Holy Jim – at least two mountain bikers (it’s kind of a blur now) and countless hikers.  I could have counted them, but didn’t, let’s just say there were lots.  Some were smiling, especially the kids, but others had looks on their faces like they wondered what the heck they had gotten themselves into.

And the rain fell a little harder.  And the wind blew a little colder.  We were completely drenched by the time we reached the top of Holy Jim.  What a surprise to find out that trail measures nearly five miles!  Great training trail.  I seriously thought it was a little over a mile, maybe two miles and the reason it kicked my butt last time was because I was so dang tired by the time I reached it (at about mile 10).

On the Main Divide, I finally took out some gloves and a beanie to wear beneath my cap.  That’s when I found out my camera didn’t work, as everything in my pockets were drenched, including the camera.  I didn’t even want to think about my ipod.  Fortunately my phone still worked.  Water poured from Jeremy’s glove when he clenched his fist.

Oh the fun of running an exposed mountain range in the cold rain and wind!   When the Main Divide snaked to the other side, facing Lake Elsinore, it warmed up some as we were protected by the wind.    Still, I really couldn’t feel my legs.  We just kept on moving, hoping that at each turn West Horse Thief would suddenly appear.  Visibility was pretty low.  I mean we could see where we ran, but we could not see off into the distance.  Then glory, glory, West Horse Thief seemed to appear out of  nowhere. 

The run down was glorious, though it was wet and it was cold, and it was rocky.  Toward the bottom of the mountain dozens of orangish-brown salamanders made their way across the muddy trail, away from the stream.  I could have sworn that I saw one salamander with a worm in its mouth.  I desperately wished that my camera worked, and thoughts ran through my mind how I could collect one or two of these creatures and bring them home to the boys.  But I had no container, no way to keep them moist for the drive home (and believe me I was dreaming about turning that heater on full-blast in my truck).

With about a mile and a half remaining, I got whipped by Stinging Nettle.  I thought the reason it stung so badly was because my skin was wet.  Soon the little bumps appeared, and the stinging didn’t disappear like the last time the plant attacked down in San Juan Capistrano.  It felt like a thousand microscopic needles pricking my leg over and over again.  But the pain was very bearable, as my main mission, to finish this run, was still at hand.

Finally seemingly out of nowhere, 14 miles after we started, we ran up on to the parking lot. 

Great run, but a very difficult run, mostly because of the weather.  As promised I drove with the heater running full-blast, all the way home.  I might also add a funny side note:  the skies were blue as I drove home, not a single drop came down upon the windshield.  It took me a long time to finally warm up also at home.  8:30 PM, my leg still stings from the Nettle. 

It was all worth it though.  Holy Jim, I’ll be back!

Finally toward end of run, camera begins to work somewhat (all the pictures turned out mostly blurry)

Elevation Profile:  Holy Jim to Main Divide, West Horse Thief to Trabuco Trail.

Friday the 13th

I woke to the realization that today is Friday the 13th.  Now, didn’t we just recently have a Friday the 13th?  In fact, haven’t we had several this year already, like more than usual?  Turns out NO.  This is our first of the year.  August 2010 was the last Friday the 13th.  Perhaps I was just dreaming.  Because I do that a lot.  Dream.

Never did I believe in the superstitious Friday the 13th.  When I was a young lady, perhaps teen (maybe I’m dreaming again, and I was in my thirties lol), the Friday the 13th movies came out.  I was a bit spooked over the date after that.  Probably since then, not a Friday the 13th passes without at least a pause.  The silly-girlish-like me thought this morning, “Today would be a perfect day for a fall or a snake bite on my run.”  Tell me!  Who thinks that?  L.O.L. (Seriously, if you think things like this comment and let me know!)

In fact, the day was just the opposite for my run.  This Friday the 13th was a lucky day.  Lucky, because the sun didn’t come out until the end of my run (Yes, I know the sun is beautiful, but when you’re running up Meadows Trail, the sun is an unwelcome visitor).  This Friday the 13th was also lucky because I didn’t see a single snake.  Wait, I take that back.  I would have loved to have seen a snake, so I guess it was unlucky in that respect.  But it was a lucky day because I didn’t get struck by a snake (even luckier that a tick did not attach – I hate ticks!).   And though mountain bikers roamed the trails in freakish numbers, I experienced not a single near-miss.  My run was lucky also because the breeze was cool.  My form felt good.  And I even finished this run in time for my first school pick-up.

I was a picture taking fool, I admit, so happy I was to run today.  The best part, slowly but surely, some parts of my new form are becoming habit.  For example, I keep my head up a good 90% of the time.  My strike is always mid-foot and I “kick” out the back.  I’ve got my arms down pretty good also.  The biggest problem is keeping my core engaged, especially on uphills.  Without that core engaged, that lean at the ankles  that Chi-Running is famous for (and natural running in general) is impossible.  (An “engaged” core kind of feels like a pelvis tilt, or like you’re just about to do a crunch.)

Scenes from the first Friday the 13th of 2011:

Entering Meadows Trail (Notice the nice flat single track) – Not for long, soon sweat will pour.

Some of the spring beauty that lingers in the coastal hills of Southern California (Meadows Trail)

A quick stop nearing the top of Meadows Trail.  The brown meadow in the flatlands (about mid photo) is about a quarter mile into Meadows Trail.

Happily, joyfully posing at the top of Meadows Trail.  Can you believe the Pacific Ocean is behind me? In real life, I could see it, though not clearly, and it was as calm as a lake.  (I kind of look like a Blue Cross worker or perhaps Florence Nightingale with that hat : )

Running along ridge, looking down on Meadows Trail (I ran up on the right).

Top of Mathis Trail with warnings that I can’t run it to the end.  I must take a detour up Drippin Cave.  Ahhhh bummer.

Running Down Meadows Trail toward Wood Canyon (& Dripping Cave Trail), Aliso Canyon in the far distance.

Entering Dripping Cave Trail, Ahh, lovely shade as the sun appears.

One of my favorite places in Aliso/Wood Canyons (Dripping Cave), the rocks are covered with moss.  Notice poison oak in bottom left corner.

More Dripping Cave Running (parallel to Wood Canyon Trail).  Must run carefully here, as this is the scene of one of my bad falls.

Relaxing, just a bit in Dripping Cave (AKA Robbers Cave).  Can’t stay long, need to get to school to pick up son.

Leaving Dripping Cave.  Fairyland.  This picture doesn’t even do the scene justice. 

Miles run today:  9.50 (for those familiar with Aliso/Wood Canyons, my route was Aliso Creek Trail to Wood Canyon where I quickly hopped onto Meadows Trail up to Top of the World.  From there I ran Park Avenue Nature Trail to West Ridge.  Then I ran down Mathis and took a short detour up Dripping Cave to end back on Wood Canyon.  Then I ran it back in on Aliso Creek Trail to finish this run.) I felt good and strong.  But by the time I arrived to my son’s school, I felt like I needed to vomit, as I only took in 100 calories on the run (and drank only a 230 calorie breakfast).  Not good planning.  But I still call this a LUCKY day.

Single Track Mind

Not a good morning.  To top it off, I slammed my knee in the truck door.  Hmmm.

The door broke skin, and I fell to the ground.  Really I did.  Well, I ran into the house, grabbed some ice, velcroed it around my knee then headed out to do the last school drop-off.  I just wanted to fall to the ground and cry.

When I told my husband that I slammed my knee in the door, he said, “Why did you do that?” 

Ahhh.  “BECAUSE I DON’T LIKE MY KNEE,” I said on my way out the front door.  (Our youngest was still waiting patiently in the car to go – and he wanted to go, because there was some ladybug hunting he had to do before school started).

I flipped my glasses over my teary-eyes.  And I said to myself, I’m going to run this morning with these dark sunglasses and I’m going to cry and cry.  And no one will know.  And no one will care.  And no one will say “shape-up”, or “get off the pity-potty.”  I could just cry all by myself and RUN.  Run, run, run.

I arrived to the park beneath blue skies with cool breezes.  Glorious, I tell you.  So much so, I forgot all about crying.  When I took off running, I focused on form and with little time to do this run,  I ran up Cholla and took all the little single tracks that detour off and back onto West Ridge. 

I can’t say that I thought about a single thing. Wait!  I did chuckle once over my husband asking why I slammed my knee.  And I did think that I am pretty spoiled.  Not that I have everything I want or that I live anywhere near lavishly.  But if you took every person in the world living right now, I am pretty dang spoiled.  So what if I have to untangle this banking thing (the thieves, I found out actually duplicated my debit card).  So what if I hurt my knee – at least I have a knee.  And it works pretty dang good.  So what if one of my sons throws a tizzy-fit and scatters all his shirts across his bedroom, exclaiming he hates them all (he actually put one t-shirt in his drawer and said this was the only one he wanted!)  I’d have to say that I’m pretty dang lucky.

I didn’t weep a single tear on my run.  Instead I enjoyed the loveliness.  I kept my head up, not only because that’s good form, but I was on the look-out for rattlers.  And I ran with glee on those single tracks that shoot off West Ridge Trail.  They were so overgrown, branches swept across my arms.

View on Cholla Trail looking down on Wood Canyon

Top of the World

Some single tracks off of West Ridge Trail

Miles logged this morning:  6.51

When the Party’s Over

Sunday I rested.  Monday, today, it was back to a busy schedule.  And I felt down.  The race is over.  The instant it ends, I’m happy.  A couple days later though, I’m sad about it all ending.  I relive the race again and again in my head.  And I feel like I have nothing to look forward to training-wise.  Especially now.  I have only 2 more races planned for this year.  And they aren’t until October and September. 

This morning I found myself scouring the internet for trail races.  I had to stop myself.  No! I said.  Just run and have some fun.  Work on getting strong.  It’s time to take a rest from races.

And so I went to the gym, worked on strength training and then swam some laps.  It was so, so, so anti-climatic. 

I went to work fatigued.  But I packed along my running gear.  And after the last student left, I picked a corner of the classroom where I could change without being seen.  Then I took off running in the cool breeze all the way home.  The run didn’t make me feel any better overall.  But I sure enjoyed just running and not caring about a thing.

ps.  In all fairness, I must put some blame on my depression on the fact that someone got a hold of my debit card number and emptied out our checking account over the weekend!   The bank is returning the money, but it will take 3 to 5 days. 

Miles run today: 6.4

Running Home

After running along San Juan Creek, I always enjoy running this bridge over Trabuco Creek to get to the river walk (“bike trail)”

Xterra 22k, Malibu Creek

I could not take a bus to today’s race.  I could not take a train.  I did not even consider a cab, as the cost would surely be outrageous.  I needed to travel about 100 miles.  And so I relented and rented a car.

After bathing early last night, I tucked in about 9 PM.  Though the household was quite loud, being Friday night with 3 boys owning weekend bedtimes, I fell asleep pretty quickly, partly because I forced myself not to nap midday. 

I woke to a 4AM alarm, casually dressed.  I drank 2 cups of coffee, packed the car.  Then after placing my hands on all three boys’ chests to make sure they were breathing, I kissed my husband good-bye (as he slept) and drove away in the dark at 5:00 AM

Everything went grand at first.  I drank my breakfast along the way (a protein shake), and then about 45 minutes later, the 405 freeway came to a halt.  We lost one lane at a time, until just one remained.  And then . . . AND THEN, the entire freeway, all lanes, were closed, and we were routed onto surface streets.  With much time lost in the traffic jam, I followed the orange detour signs diligently, until THEY VANISHED. 

Okay, it looked like I wasn’t going to make the race.  I had no idea how far away Interstate 5 was, so I did what I didn’t want to do.  I called my husband at 6:00 AM!!!  I felt terrible about this, REALLY.  The whole reason I rented a car was not to inconvenience my family.  Well, to make a long story short, he got on the computer and suggested continuing east to the 5.  Whereas, I opted to hop onto the 605 and head back to the 405.  Ends up my choice was good.  But I was way, way behind schedule. (And I didn’t need to call and wake hubby after all!)

I admit that I drove over the speed limit the remainder of the way.  About 15 miles over the speed limit.  And I still wasn’t sure I’d make it. 

What a morning!  I arrived to the park and found a space far from check-in. Stupidly Not thinking, I left my pack in the car and checked in.  Turns out the line was long, and I had to run back to the car.  And then . . . AND THEN the bathroom lines were enormous (as the 6k runners were prepping for their race), so I tucked into the thorny bushes for a pit stop.  Then running off to the start line, I realized that I LEFT MY BIB IN THE CAR.

Off back to the car I ran (a good 1/3 mile), grabbed my bib and then ran all the way to the Start Line (probably a whole mile!)  It was just like a dream that I usually have before a race.  If this was a chip-timed race, I wouldn’t have minded.  But this was gun-time only, meaning my time started the minute the race started, NOT THE MOMENT THAT I ACTUALLY STEPPED OVER THE START LINE.  

Luckily, the race start was several minutes behind and I started off on-time, but a bit breathless.

I will say this.  I felt fine.  The weather was delightful – cool and cloudy.  Bulldog wasn’t so tough either.  Wait.  It was tough, but it was easier than it ever has been for me.  I remember thinking only once, “I HATE BULLDOG.”  Then I laughed out loud over the fact that I keep returning.  When it got tough and I hiked (and that was often, though I ran more of it than I ever have), I said loudly in my head, “HIKE AS FAST AS YOU CAN LAUREN!”  And I did.

Amazingly, I saw runners going up with no water.  Others ran with just a single water bottle, that was now empty.  I felt terrible for them.  I saw runners staggering, and wondered why it took me so long to pass them. 

At the top of Bulldog, an aid station volunteer said to me, “This is not a race to improve your time on . . . this is a race to DO.”

Heading up into the Santa Monica Mountains

Going up Bulldog Rd.

I recovered quickly at the top of Bulldog Road.  And I actually ran pretty much the entire ridge.  I enjoyed myself so much that I found myself running lackadaisically.  “This is a race, woman!”  I told myself more than once.  “Pick it up, you can run faster than this!”  And therefore I did.  

At the bottom of the mountains, I got to talking with a road runner on her first trail race (a young woman, not a bird).  She just happen to pick this particular race – “Do you know that you picked the toughest trail race of this distance around?”

“I KNOW NOW.”  She was bloody from a recent fall.  And she was so happy when I told her that we were going to do some road running in a bit.  When we hit the road, she blasted ahead.  And then back on the trail, we both, at different times, took the same wrong turn.  According to my garmin, we took A HALF MILE detour.  Finally, we made it together to the base of Backbone.  And I told her, one great thing about trail racing is the stories you get to tell afterward.

She didn’t find our detour very amusing.  But she laughed and said, “Keep telling me good things about trail running, because I can’t find anything good right now.”

Amazingly I ran all the way up Backbone – that’s a first.  And I ran back into the finish feeling strong, not dead-dog tired, where I’m going to fall to the ground, like I usually do on this loop.  I felt good. 

Miles logged:  14.17 (a little more than planned).  I only increased my time by a little less than 5 minutes, so I still came in toward the back of the pack.  That is a little disappointing to me.  But I can’t deny the fact that I had a great deal of fun.  And I felt strong.  And most importantly, Bulldog didn’t beat me up and spit me out.  I recovered very quickly after Bulldog and raced on with pretty good speed afterward.  So the fact that my time improvement was only minimal is disappointing at this late hour, many plus points came out of this race.  And lest I forget!  I took a half mile detour by taking that wrong turn.  So maybe I would have beaten my time by 10 minutes instead of 5.  Who knows.  All I know is that I did it.  I went up Bulldog once again!  Will I ever improve any more than this?  I hope so.  But what I hope more is that I continue to enjoy the adventure. (video at the end of this post)

Elevation Profile

Oh the fun!