Just Like Old Times

The only substitute calls I received today left me too far away to make it to my regular teaching job in time.  So, I had to decline.  With some hours to spare (dishes already done, laundry in the machines, boys off to school) what else was a girl supposed to do? 

Hmmmm. 

It was just like old times on today’s morning run.  Before I even heard of trail running, I ran different parts of the local beaches, camp grounds, wharf and marina, gradually piecing the parts together to equal ten miles.  At first I could barely run  2 to 3 mile segments.  Five miles came slowly and I was still embarrassed to say that I was a runner.  Back then, I didn’t think that I looked like a runner.  Now, I don’t really care whether I “look like a runner,” mainly because I realize that runners look all different ways.   I still remember the joy of that first ten miles when I finally pieced together most of this route.  I remember taking way too long to finish, and finishing up like a zombie.  But I didn’t care!  I had run ten miles!!

I ran this route and only this route for years.  I ran it to train for my first half marathon (The Disney half).  I used to count runners running the same route.  I ran it in the dark before anyone in the neighborhood woke.  I ran it at night when the restaurant lights’ reflections twinkled upon the sea. 

This morning, I pieced it all together again for one big loop back to my house.  Now I have this bridge that crosses over the highway (didn’t have this back then):

Like the old times, I ran until the sidewalk ended.  Then I turned around and ran through Capo and Doheny beaches.  I circled the campground twice to find it virtually empty with cars donning only California plates.

Where the sidewalk ends:

Capo Beach:

Dana Point Wharf:

Harbor Island:

Running the marina:

I spotted 31 other runners out this morning.  And I ran 12.05 miles (19.44 km), somewhat fatigued, especially after yesterday’s snow run.  It’s nice to get back out to the old route once in a while. 

Running in a Winter Wonderland : )

Big storm in Southern California this weekend, and I hadn’t run since Wednesday.  Rain always close the local coastal trails, and hubby didn’t want me running mountain trails alone.  I agreed with him on this one.  Last thing I want to do is get injured and trapped in the mountains during a cold winter storm.  Then my break came, I got to tag along with running friend Jeremy into the mountains on a buddy-system run. 

So, at 6:00 AM, I poured my coffee into a thermos, ran out to the truck and headed off in the wind and the rain toward Silverado Canyon.  I nearly choked on my coffee laughing over what I was doing.  I had turn my wipers onto its highest speed for goodness sake, and here I was driving to the mountains for a run.

The right lane on the freeway was flooded.  And on the shoulder, squad car lights spun in the dark where over the railing a car lay on its side.  The rain stopped after several miles.  And I was glad to see runners on the road, someone actually running up Santiago Canyon (crazy!), and a Maple Springs Trailhead lot with a few other cars.

We took off in the cold, lonely canyon, UPHILL on pavement, gingerly crossing streams to keep our feet dry.  At times, we had to walk up or down the stream a bit to find a good crossing. 

Snow appeared early on.  First it was in clumps alongside the trail here and there.  Then the gaps began to fill in and we were running in slushy snow eager for the dirt road.  Of course, the dirt road wasn’t a dirt road at all, it was a beautiful snow blanketed road with a single pair of foot prints, hiking boots, making its way up.   

We got some light rain.  We got some light snow and some light hail.  We also got plenty of wind.  Suddenly those hiking boot tracks ended and we were on our own making our way to “Four Corners.”   Up ahead lay an awesome blanket of perfect snow – below, clouds and mist.  It was very difficult to traverse that trail uphill in the snow.  Yet, it was also extremely beautiful.  I felt an overwhelming urge to lay right down in it.  Beneath the snow, the darker portions, travelled a stream of water, where we learned quickly not to step.  Stepping here meant a foot slammed down in slushy water.  The things you learn on a snowy run. 

Eventually I found that if I ran behind Jeremy, I could step into his footprints, making it much easier physically to climb Maple Springs Road.  Fortunately, I have big enough feet that we switched off here and there using each other’s footprints to lighten the struggle.  Nearing the top, I finally heard voices, then suddenly four or five runners and two dogs made their way toward us.  “You guys got rocks in your head?” one of the male runners asked.  Very cool to see other runners out there on the mountain.

The wind blew strongly at “Four Corners.”  It was cold, cold, cold, so cold, I could hardly set up a “group” photo.  My camera wouldn’t stand upright on the iced gate post and even blew off the post once.  Finally I was able to run to the railing in time for one unfocused picture of two crazy runners who ran up Maple Springs this morning.

The run down was delightful, though cold.  I gave in and finally purposely fell into the snow simply because I just wanted to see what it would feel like.  It felt cold.  My pack on my back prevented me from making a snow angel.  And that’s when I got snow IN my shoes.  My feet were soaked by now.  When we reached the canyon, we didn’t take our time crossing the streams.  Instead, we merely plowed right through them eager for the warmth of our trucks. 

Except for a tiny piece of mild frostbite on my ankle (which feels like a burn), I made it through this adventure unscathed.  I’m so grateful for a running buddy so that I could experience this winter wonderland.  Extremely grateful too that my family put up with me going out for my morning run which lasted more than a few hours.

 Jeremy running up Maple Springs Road (about mile 3):

A little less than mile 4:

Still climbing:

And climbing some more:

Quick pose at “Four Corners”:

Heading back down:

Me with iced hair:

Miles logged:  14.80 (23.82 km)

Back on the Horse

There was a familiar saying in my house when I was a child.  We were a house of sayings.  I’m talking about the saying that goes, “Get back up on the horse,” meaning if you fall off a horse, get back on quickly or else you may never get back on it.  We also said, “Get back on the bike,” meaning the same thing, or “Walk it off, and get back into the game.”   We were all about never quitting and trying harder.  (No wonder I always fell short).  But I am adult now (many, many years) and know that these sayings were meant to be helpful and inspire.  And indeed they have done that.

After about five minutes of the total pits, then running 7.5 miles down the mountain back to my truck yesterday, and returning home to tell my husband that I thought I might not run anymore, and hearing him burst out laughing, then having a good night’s sleep, and then running about thirteen miles this morning . . . I AM AGAIN A TRAIL RUNNER.  (Yay!)

Today, I got back on the horse.  I took yesterday’s run hard at the time.  I doubted all the hours and effort I put into trail running and thought, maybe I should chuck it.  But then, early last night, I thought that I needed to “get back on the horse.”  And that is just what I did this morning.  I didn’t train.  I simply went for a nice relaxing trail run, the “Big Loop” at Aliso/Wood Canyons.  And it was delightful.  And it was fun.  And my pack didn’t weigh me down.  And I never tired.  And I enjoyed the steepest climbs, the mountain views, nodding to all the mountain bikers, and simply just being there.

And here is the beauty to prove it (the scenery that is).  My route for the locals who are curious what “The Big Loop” is: 

Aliso Creek Trail, Meadows, Mentally Sensitive, Aswut, Top of the World, West Ridge, Cholla, Wood Canyon, Wood Creek, Wood Canyon, Aliso Creek Trail.

Aliso Creek Trail (total miles 1.5).  You can run this trail all on asphalt or single-track trail.  This morning I ran half of it asphalt, the other half on this:

After a short stint on Wood Canyon, I came to Meadows and shot my usual pose.  Meadows is about 1.5 miles, of which I ran about 1/2 mile of before turning off (I think I look a lot like my sister here, though she looks a lot younger, I think because she takes much more care of herself – I didn’t even apply sunscreen this morning!!!):

More of Meadows:

Mentally Sensitive looked a bit overgrown (tickville).  This trail runs about 2 miles, the first part, rolling, green and fairytale-like, the second part hellish (in a fun way – REALLY):

Climbing Mentally Sensitive:

View of Aliso Canyon and Saddleback Mountains from Aswut Trail which runs along the ridge to Top of the World:

Top of the World:

Running West Ridge (which totals about 2.5 miles of rolling truck trail and glorious views):

Another shot of Saddleback Mountains, this one from West Ridge (on a little single-track that branches off and returns to the trail):

View of Wood Canyon as I ran down Cholla Trail:

Prickly Pear blossom on Cholla:

Wood Creek Trail (About a half mile detour that begins and ends on Wood Canyon Trail):

Wood Canyon, heading home : )

Elevation:

Weird Run

Yesterday, I planned for today’s run.  I planned a run to Santiago Peak, 24+ miles round trip (38.6 km).  So looking forward to this run, I “daydreamed” about it as I drifted off to sleep.  Then oddly, I began to worry about things – things like weather, mountain lions, human predators.  Still, I scooted off this morning happily, looking forward to this run (armed and with plenty supplies).  The last thing school moms said to me as I rushed away after dropping off the boys was, “Better hurry before the rain comes.”

Though the skies were gray, the sun nowhere to be seen, my foremost worry was fluids.  I knew I couldn’t carry enough to sustain the entire trip.  So in addition to the 70+ fluid ounces in my pack, I carried an additional 32 ounces to stash on my way up.  Fearing a storm (even though it’s not supposed to come in til Friday!), I also packed sleeves, head warmth and wore three shirts.  Three!  Not only that, I shoved the basketball sweats I wore to the trailhead into my pack.  I started off, uphill carrying a much heavier load that I’m used to.  This did not make for a good start.

A quick shot at the start:

Very quickly climbing up the canyon, I was above the clouds, and the sun shined brightly:

The trailhead gate was open, so as I made that first three mile pavement climb through a colorful valley, three cars passed me, one motorcycle and one dirt bike.  One of the cars (a small SUV) had a man and a young boy inside.  Then some time later, a small SUV passed me driving down.  There was only a man inside, no boy.  NOW, I have no idea if this was the same SUV, or even the same color of car.  Both men waved and smiled at me, and I didn’t have the slightest idea whether the two even resembled each other.  Still, I fretted over whether this was the same car, and if so, what happened to the boy!!!

Okay, I guess I was freaking out a little.  Fear and discomfort began to creep in even more.  When mankind vanished and I was alone, I felt a little less paranoid.  A bobcat ran the road just ahead of me, and running uphill I actually attempted to catch a photo.  But the cat was gone in an instant up the valley side.  Besides the squeal of the squirrels, I could hear woodpeckers banging against trees throughout the valley.  Tiny yellow flowers lined the trail edge.  And the water rushing over boulders was music to my ears since I didn’t wear earphones – I never wear earphones when running up this valley alone.   

Still bundled up at one of several stream crossings:

When my feet finally hit dirt, at about mile three, I scoured the land for a place to hide my extra fluids and sweats.  I didn’t find a good hiding place until about a half mile later.  Feeling more comfortable being lighter and cooler, I ran up Maple Springs toward the top.  I saw no other runners, though a few more cars and a couple motorcycles passed me.   I found an iphone practically buried in the dirt, picked it up and tried to phone the owner by going to “contacts” and phoning “Home.”  No service. 

Music helped relax me as I ran up the mountain.  Though I’m not sure I ever felt completely relaxed.  I think that I was so into my fear and discomfort that I only looked down or ahead.  Relief came once again when I looked around and saw an awesome sea of clouds.

Beauty above the clouds:

When I reached “Four Corners,” I stood in awe above that beautiful sea of white puffy clouds.  Then suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, but it had been lingering all along, the feeling of dread, no,  doom, completely overcame me.  I felt, not exactly thought, “What the hell am I doing spending so much time running when I should be home hugging my family, when I should be going door-to-door for fulltime employment so that we can give the boys what we used to be able to give them?  WHAT?  THE? HELL? AM? I DOING???”  And though I posed for the picture below with a smile on my face, I was not feeling that smile.  Afterward, I wept behind those dark glasses, over many things.  And suddenly, I thought, “Forget it,” and thwarted my trip to the peak.  Instead, I ran back down Maple Springs to my car. 

Everyone was surprised to see me so early back home. I hugged my boys, layed down on my bed and fell asleep for at least two hours. 

Tomorrow.  Though nothing terrible happened today, nothing even bad happened.  But, perhaps tomorrow still will bring a better day.

Four Corners:

One last view before running back to the truck:

Running down the mountain:

Back in the valley:

Yucca (Spanish Bayonet):

Elevation:

Satellite:

Afterthought:  the guy who owns the iphone that I found stopped by our house tonight to pick it up.  He seemed like a nice kid (quite young, 17 – 21 is my guess).  He and his buddies hiked to Santiago Peak today.  Bravo.  Bravo!