Due to a series of circumstances, I was to host the new member’s run for OCTR (Orange County Trail Runners) that I had to change the date on, less than a week ago. Pretty certain that no one would show, I arrived to Aliso/Wood Canyons at 7:00 AM just to make sure. I would have probably slept in today had it not been for this group run.
I stood around in the parking lot for about ten minutes. When I determined there was no “New Member” run for me to lead, I thought to myself, “I can just go home.”
But I had dressed for a run. The satellites had already loaded on my garmin. I had my running belt on, had already dissolved a Nuun tablet. “I’ll just run to the edge of the paved trail and turn around for a mile and a half round trip.”
And so I ran.
When I arrived to the dirt single-track, I thought to myself, “Okay. I’ll just finish up Aliso Creek Trail for a 3 mile round trip.”
And I ran onward through the misty canyon called Aliso Canyon.
At the end of Aliso Creek Trail, I felt okay. Not magnificent. Not super strong. But just fine. So, I thought to myself, “I’ll run some of Meadows and turn around before the climb for a 4 mile out-and-back.”
I am happy that I turned off onto Meadows. As I ran the overgrown single-track, a honey-colored weasel ran across my path. It was the cutest little critter, its belly so low to the ground as it scampered across the trail. I would have loved to have scooped him up and taken the little guy home for a pet. But alas, there’s no way I would have been quick enough to snatch it up. And if I had done so, the weasel would have most likely left behind quite a few scratch scars before I finally dropped it to the ground, both of us screaming.
Now that’s a single-track (Meadows):
Well! At the base of the Meadows climb, I thought to myself, “Heck, I’m already here. I might as well run to the top for a 6 mile out-and-back.” And so I ran up that great switch-back hill, running first through bountiful mustard plants like these:
The run up Meadows was misty and foggy. I couldn’t see the top. A few mountain bikers and hikers made their way down. One hiker caught up with me from behind. With him right on my heels I picked up my pace because I wasn’t going to let a hiker pass me going up Meadows. I gained my distance on him and beat him to the top. But I have to point out he was ONE DANG STRONG HIKER. Because I focused so much on not letting him pass, the top of Meadows came as a surprise. A welcomed surprise.
Running up Meadows:
Top of Meadows, the Hiker Who Nearly Passed Me in Background:
By the time I reached the top of Meadows, I felt strong enough to keep on running. I thought that I could go for a 9 or 11 mile standard loop that I frequently run. Then on second thought, I figured, wouldn’t it be nice to surprise my family and arrive home in time to attend church with them?
And so I ran back down Meadows and through Aliso Canyon to my truck and drove home.
Okay, I need two recovery runs. Such is life with me. Good thing is, I think I’m probably 90% back. My legs did not feel extremely heavy (& unfortunately I didn’t lose any weight to explain that). Not only that, I didn’t dread today’s warm-up, PLUS, I came in strong after a 11.5 mile hilly run.
A new lollipop loop came to mind last night that I don’t think I’ve run in my regular wilderness park before. I believe something new was good for my recovery. Funny, I guessed this newly concocted lollipop loop was about 9 miles. I was a little off.
Some high (or rather low points in today’s run), I was nearly wiped out by two mountain bikers hauling a** down Rock It Trail. They were forsure travelling more than the 10 mph speed limit. I had to jump off the trail to avoid one mountain biker. The other one, fortunately, I could hear her brakes before a possible collision. Sorry, but I think it’s crazy to travel that quickly down these steep trails. A wipe-out could mean death for the rider, for sure a SERIOUS injury. I shiver to imagine what a collision with a runner would mean.
Also, two Sheriff helicopters hovered nearby for the first hour of my run. I discussed the possibilities with another runner as we ran up Rock It trail. We both agreed that the problem was probably on Lynx Trail, OR, as she said, “there was a killer loose.” Her comment cracked me up because that’s exactly one of the scenarios that runs through my mind when there’s helicopters hovering above my trails.
Anyway, I heard later from another mountain biker that a cyclist was seriously hurt on Lynx Trail. That’s another super steep, rocky terrain that mountain bikers generally take rather quickly. I couldn’t help but wonder if the injured biker was travelling too fast.
On my way back down from Top of the World, I passed the fire truck and paramedic that was presumably transporting the injured to the nearest hospital (which would have been South Coast in Laguna Beach). The enormous trucks slowly made their way along West Ridge toward Top of the World. And from far away, the fire truck actually honked several times, as if perhaps I didn’t see him. Let me tell you, a big red fire truck travelling along the ridge of Aliso/Wood Canyons wilderness park is hard to miss.
I hope the best for the biker. Really. But I do wish some of the mountain bikers would slow down a bit travelling some of the steeper trails. As a precaution, I always turn the music down very low when travelling these trails.
And now to the photographs. I gave myself lots of leeway to take pictures today. Since I this was a recovery run, I figured quick stops to take a photo would do me good toward getting back to normal.
Entering Cave Rock Trail (not my usual route, a long neglected trail):
A Look Back onto Wood Canyon while Running up to THE rock:
Thar she blows – THE rock:
Flora along Wood Canyon Trail:
Creek Crossing on Mathis as I make my way to Coyote Run Trail:
Lovely Coyote Run:
Time to Climb:
Flora along Rock It Trail:
Why they call it Rock It:
Up, up and away (in my beautiful balloon) – can someone please remind me to wash the salt off those glasses? LOL I actually wash them quite frequently:
Running down Car Wreck Trail, a fun technical run:
A Stop at the Wreck:
Finishing up Car Wreck Trail to begin Oak Grove Trail:
Arriving to Dripping Cave (AKA Robbers’ Cave), First Thing, Check the Cave for Snakes:
Reach for the Sky, Cowboy! (Dripping AKA Robbers’ Cave):
11.5 miles (18.51 km) run today, the last day of my recovery :
Recovery seems a blur now. I couldn’t sleep much at all the first night after the SJT “50K.” Every inch of my body ached. My arms especially ached, so too did my calves. A simple touch hurt. I walked down stair steps sideways to avoid aches.
I slept better the next day. Monday after dropping the boys off at school, I slept until 1PM. Every chance I got, I slept. Every time I laid my head down my mind went through the race. I found that pleasurable. And then when I slept I dreamt strange or disturbing dreams, dreams of my life passing before my eyes, dreams of family members who have died, or dreams of running, running, never-ending-running.
I didn’t even think of actually running those first two days after the race. Though I did some upper body weights, some hip and glute strengthening, a little foam rolling, even a bit of ab work. I kept wondering why my elbow hurt, then I’d remember the fall on that boulder.
Tuesday, was EMO day – emotional wreck day. My hubby said, “Recovery!” Perhaps. I went to work Tuesday so emotionally wrought it took great strength to put on “the act.” I managed. Then I got the call to sub a night class. I took on that job with my eyes aching from sobbing. Still, I was able to put on “the act.” And glasses, they do wonders for sobbing eyes. When I finally arrived home that night I went straight to bed. (Does anyone else go through this emotional day after a huge race?)
Today, Wednesday, was the day. After dropping our boys off at school, I had the morning all to myself. I set off for “sixish” “easyish” trail miles at about 10AM wearing my latest race t-shirt. On my drive there, a bird (yes a bird!) flew into my windshield. And the creature kind of flopped through the air toward the ground. I thought I had probably killed it – I was travelling about 40 mph and add that to the bird’s momentum – I don’t know how it could survive. I felt terrible.
I continued on driving, determined to get in a trail run. I wasn’t going to let a poor dead bird deter me. And I don’t believe in omens. I felt that if I didn’t get a run in today, I just may slide into a slump.
This is how it went: The weather was warm, almost hot as I ran down into Wood Canyon. My shoes felt too tight. I stopped twice to loosen the laces, questioning why my shoes would feel so odd. I also felt sluggish, as if my legs weighed 50 pounds a piece. I thought to myself, “What the heck am I doing? Maybe I don’t want to be an endurance / trail runner anymore!” (Sound familiar? Does to me. I go through this after almost every tough race.)
Then I hit the trails to the loud sound of a rattlesnake’s rattler. I only caught a glimpse of its tail end. I stood there on the trail with a male and female mountain biker, all of us trying to get a better glimpse, the guy attempting to get it to do some more rattling by beating the brush. Then we started exchanging rattlesnake stories, and afterward, I set off, my legs still heavy, but my heart lightened by the trail.
I headed up Cholla Trail sweating profusely, not only because of the heat, but because of my recovery. I always sweat much more than usual on my recovery runs. I ran to the top of Cholla not thinking, but more feeling that I did want to be a trail runner after all.
A Quick Pose on West Ridge Trail (top of Cholla Trail):
Running Park Avenue Nature Trail for some Extra Elevation:
I made the trip up only slightly slower than usual. I also spotted another snake in the distance crossing the trail. Picking up my pace so that I could get a closer look, it slithered into the brush. I got a close enough look at its tail end to know that it was not a rattlesnake. Stopping for a minute, I searched the brush so that I could i.d. the critter. It was a lovely, nice size garter snake. I’d say at least 4 feet long.
I took the side trails for additional elevation. Why? Because I’m crazy. Also, so that I could see the Pacific Ocean sooner than later. But I couldn’t see the ocean at all. Instead, I saw this – a lovely, “pillowy” soft-looking layer of clouds covering all that water:
Top of the World:
I ran back at a faster pace. And I didn’t think about anything. Nothing. Nada. I did hear the sound of shuffling feet behind me and I picked up my speed some on the uphills so that I could leave that runner behind me. I wasn’t in the mood to let a runner pass me. Usually I don’t have a choice. But today, I could tell from the sound of his feet that the runner was tired, so I kicked it in (I know he was a “he,” because I peeked a glimpse behind me when I turned to run down Cholla).
I didn’t get much mileage in today. I didn’t get much training in today. But I got some trails in today. And that was lovely.
I don’t even know how to do a recovery run. How long do you wait before running? How many miles do you run? Ahh. Who cares. I got out today, finally, and ran trails again. That’s really all that matters for this recovery run..
Rain stormed down upon us all day Friday and into the morning hours Saturday. When I write “stormed,” I’m talking the full shebang – thunder, lightening, wind. I barely slept a wink in preparation for Saturday’s race. The wind and rain was so loud, it woke me all night long. I wonder however, whether or not I would have woke all night long regardless.
Turned out, the rangers closed down The Main Divide, which meant much of the course, including West Horsethief would not be in this year’s race. A new map was nailed to a tree when I arrived to the start line. The first 19 mile out-and-back of the original race became the last 19 miles. The “new” first portion of the race would wind around the trails near lower Blue Jay, taking me along trails that I rarely run
.
Bummer. I knew every bump in West Horsethief (not to mention Trabuco & The Main Divide). At the same time I was a little relieved that I didn’t have to go up Horsethief. I felt a bit disappointed too since I trained so hard, specifically for that trail. What a great way to practice my newfound spontaneity. Of course, first thing I did, or rather didn’t do, was start my garmin!
Scenes from The Start Line:
I felt good when we ran off down the road toward the trail. I took up the back of the pack with several other runners, telling myself, run smart! It took me a while to warm-up. I didn’t push it. I figured I had time to speed up.
The trails were beautiful, lush with moss covered tree trunks and a variety of ferns. Other parts were exposed with orangish-pink boulders to run up like stair steps. The exposed trails became pretty muddy, but nothing terrible, or ridiculously unavoidable.
The first loop was not too confusing, though I did take two, TWO wrong turns. The second wrong turn I ran with two other racers. Then after that first loop, we began criss-crossing trails we had already run. Several runners took wrong turns, some of them front runners. Worried that I might not make that 14 mile hard cut-off, I focused hard on looking at my surroundings and not taking another wrong turn. I believe focusing on my direction kept me strong, as I didn’t have time to think too much about my running. I simply kicked out the back, tried to run quickly. No negative thoughts popped into my head – it really was a wonderful, though only slightly frustrating, time for the first third of the race.
When I made it back out to the road again, I passed my truck at about mile 10. I threw the trash in my pockets into the bed, as well as, my long sleeve shirt and beanie. Next stop was a quick one at the 1st aid station where I found myself AGAIN, extending my stay as I chatted away with the workers. I stopped myself short and rushed off onto the single track behind the station which I ran for a short while to come out on a road that I have run many times. I headed down and then up toward Chiquita to finish off the final 18 or so miles (this new last-minute route was actually a little short, more a 45K than a 50K). Fortunately, Jody V., a local runner who knows these trails very well was a bit behind me. She helped me out a great deal finding my way. Everything was backward to me. When I had run this road before, I ran it in the opposite direction.
Before Making my Way to Chiquita (I’m not sure what to call these trails, since I don’t know their names. I heard someone refer to this portion as “The Sugarloaf Loop” since we ran by Sugarloaf Peak):
Making my way to Chiquita was a task – not physically, more just finding my way. When I didn’t have Jody nearby, I questioned bikers, whose responses didn’t reassure me. Keep in mind that this race was nearly cancelled and that the planners came up with a new route in a rush. And they were pretty much marking the trail that morning as we ran it.
At one point on the way to Chiquita, we met two runners trying to figure their way, and Jody was able to set everyone straight. Then some time later, I took both those runners down a wrong turn! Jody to the rescue again. She yelled out my name and pointed in the other direction, where we turned around and chased off after her. Following her, she brought us right to the Chiquita trailhead.
The run at this point was tiring, but not too tiring for me to get out ahead of the small pack I was running in. It was muddy, and it was rocky, and it was mostly downhill. Yay! Then I ran down a large wet boulder leading into a creek and my feet slipped out from beneath me. I fell on my back and my elbow and wrist slammed down onto the rock. Blood smeared from a small cut on my hand. I feared for a second that I may have broken my wrist or elbow. “Don’t let the fall throw you,” I said to myself, stood up, and continued running. Soon, my wrist and elbow felt okay, definitely not broken, just sore.
Running Chiquita:
I ran past the next aid station, not knowing how far back the few runners were behind me. With about three or so miles remaining to the candy store aid station I came upon the first place runner making his way back. (This portion of the run is referred to as “The Candy Store Loop” because it’s an out and back with a loop at one end to Ortega Highway, where there’s a candy store across the road). Anyway, slowly but surely, I came upon more runners making their way back. At one point, I came upon running friend, Lisa making her way back, looking strong and smiling. She too had fallen, but she broke her garmin (& had to run back and look for it.) We took pictures of each other and we were both off again, running in opposite directions.
Lisa on Chiquita: Me on Chiquita Looking so Funny because (I think) I was Describing my Fall Here:
The next mile to the candy store aid, where Steve and Annie Harvey worked, was EXCRUTIATING. It took F O R E V E R. Imagine my relief when I could finally hear cars from the highway. I ran into the station with even greater relief. Steve was so helpful to get the pack off my back, while I grabbed my knee brace deep in the back zipper (as ever since the fall, though I didn’t hit my knee, it ached). I learned at this station that one of my running friends didn’t make the cut off. Just then, one of the guys in the race behind me, ran on up to the station. I was quick up on my feet and running hard back onto the trail. I didn’t even stop at the outhouse bathroom, which I needed to, and should have because I would have to find time later in the land of no outhouses.
The next several miles was VERY difficult. Occasionally, I’d catch a glimpse of the male runner behind me, and that pushed me onward faster. Two hikers stopped me at one point to ask me where they were on the trail, and I looked at them as if to say, “I have no idea what you are asking me” I remember when I stopped to answer them, I swayed a bit and almost lost my footing. I had to keep going, or else I’d fall. LOL. Then I remembered as I ran off, “Chiquita Trail,” I hollered back to the hikers, “We’re on Chiquita!” That’s when I saw that guy coming up right behind the hikers. I took off running uphill with great determination not to see that runner on the trails again. He had been running with a female (wife/girlfriend) who I did not see. And at the next aid station, I found out that another running friend had dropped out while running Chiquita. : (
Mile 24.5 was my low point. I was so dang tired, I felt I could drop to the dirt. This is when the bad thoughts crept in. I said to myself, “I suck!” Then I said, “NO! NO! NO! Don’t think that again, just KEEP RUNNING.” I continued running, hardly hiking at all because I wanted THIS TRAIL TO END. But it would not end. Chiquita went on and on and on (mostly uphill). The bad thing for me was that I did not know when it would end because I had not trained on this trail either.
Reaching the Chiquita trailhead was GLORIOUS. Simply Glorious. That’s all I have to say about that.
More Chiquita:
With Chiquita under my belt, I literally had to FIND my way back. I came to an intersection with markers and arrows on all three options. I stood there thinking, thinking, thinking. I recalled the race’s beginning and looking up at the topography I decided upon the route that I did not want to take – the steepest route. I asked a couple hikers, a teen and a woman with keys in her hand, as I made my way up, whether this was the way to the parking lot. They said with a worried look that they didn’t know, they were lost. “Well,” I said, “I believe it is.”
Further up, I ran up on a young girl sitting on a boulder. I asked her also if I was on my way to the parking lot. She said that she didn’t know, but her Dad went ahead to look for it. Awesome! I ran ahead to find him. He was running up the trail when I hollered to find out whether he found the lot. AND HE DID. He told me when the trail forked to go straight. I was so happy, and happy for him and his family too who seemed visibly worried over being lost.
My feet hit the pavement barely able to run the remainder in to the finish. I ran on in though, so, so, so relieved that I had finally finished this race.
Posing with Big Baz at The Finish Line: Look at that UPHILL finish!! Miles totaled 28ish (45k), others reported 29 point something:
I came in at 8:10. I hoped for less than 8 hours on the original route. That was going to be tough, but doable. When I learned of the change, and the fact that this new route was short, not to mention I was very pleased with my time for the first half of the race, I thought FOR SURE, I’d come in well under 8 hours. But alas, this course was more difficult than the original. Oddly, much more difficult. I would have never guessed. I’m not too broken up over my time though. I am HAPPY, so, so happy that I finished, and happy that I can be part of such a wonderful community.
Rain visited us once again in Southern California. As “they” said when I was a child, “April Showers Bring May Flowers.” I’ll tell you what else April Showers bring. They bring TRAIL CLOSURES. The weather was clear all day, so I didn’t think when I raced off in my truck to get in one last trail run before this weekend’s race, that the trails would still be closed. I met two hikers coming up into the city park who warned me about the closure. My question was, “Did you see any rangers?”
“Well, no,” they responded, “but when we went, in the yellow tape was broken, and when we returned the yellow tape was wound around the gate even tighter.”
All that mattered to me was, No Rangers In Sight! At this point, especially since I’ve been extremely stressed over my race, AND I haven’t been able to run due to weather, AND the last time I ran I had knee problems, I was willing to dive into bushes to avoid rangers.
Shhhhhhhh! Don’t tell anyone. : )
My goal today was to test out my knee and also to remind myself of one thing, and that is, it’s always hard. What’s hard? Trail running (well, running in general). Why would I need to remind myself this? The answer is I needed to remember. I believe I have been feeling sooooooo much anxiety over Saturday’s race because I keep upping the ante, and as such, my runs GOT HARDER. I knew this before, even without upping the ante, running doesn’t get easy. My runs may get easier, but NEVER easy. Sure. I have good runs that are easy once in a while. I feel stronger, I may run a bit faster. And sure, some runners make it look easy. But I bet if you ask elite runners, they will say that running up a mountain is not easy. Thus, I have to ask myself, why would I want it to be easy? I certainly didn’t start trail running (or running in general) because it’s easy. I started simply because of the opposite, BECAUSE IT’S NOT EASY.
I never stopped running (except to snap a quick photo on this run) and I kept up the pace without knowing my pace. I was so eager to get out the door this afternoon that I forgot my garmin! As I ran up the steepest portion of West Ridge, I noticed a mother and son walking up backward (exactly what I used to do on tough hills before I was a runner.) When I reached the top, they were sitting in the shade of a kiosk and the mother jokingly rolled her eyes at me, which I interpreted as “What the hell are you doing.?” I laughed out loud and said, “I call this hill, ‘Good Girls Don’t’ – do you remember that song by The Knack?” She laughed too and said that she did remember the song. I didn’t skip a beat and continued on uphill toward Top of The World.
Detour Off West Ridge In The Midst Of Terrible Wet & Muddy Conditions:
I picked up my pace on the way back, which has its uphills, but is mainly downhill. Happily I report that I felt no knee pain. I did feel the pain of nerve rubbing against bone in my right foot, which I must have mentioned before. I declined surgery years ago, because I’d rather put up with the minor pain than months of recovery (I had surgery on the left foot to remove the nerve, and the recovery was very long, and it took years for my foot to feel “normal” again.) On the plus side, the foot pain is very bearable and I happily report that this afternoon’s run was delightful. No sign of mental fatigue. In fact, I felt a bit saddened that my run was coming to an end.
Hello from Top of the World. 6.5 miles run this afternoon. Happy weekend!:
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