“Through [the] Strange Hours [I] Linger Alone.”

Hectic, hectic week.  With next week the last of summer work for me, I have been busy with work, busy with anxiety over students succeeding, busy with other issues that I’ll leave unwritten.  Needless to say, I didn’t get my first two training runs of the week.

I set off this morning before sunrise, headed for Saddleback Mountains.  Though today’s plan dictated 12 miles, I opted for a 14 mile loop up Holy Jim Trail to The Main Divide, down West Horsethief, and ending with Trabuco Trail back to my truck. 

I get a little giddy when “The Saddleback” comes in sight – driving the toll road this morning, there she is!:

I arrived to a canyon lot and noticed only two cars – both of them apparently empty, one locked up, the other with its windows down, inside a battery type light that was lit on the dashboard.  That spooked me for no reason other than I found it unusual.  I drove the canyon road to Holy Jim parking lot quicker than usual.  It’s a rocky ride – very bumpy in my little truck.  About a half mile from the Holy Jim parking lot, I came upon two sheriff squad cars, both of the officers standing in the road. 

I slowed and rolled down my window.  “Is it safe to go in there?”

“Sure,”  one of the officers said.  “You going for a run?” 

I wondered how he knew, but then realized my garmin gave me away when he said he had the same garmin.  After talking running for a bit, the officers told me to let them know if I saw a certain type of car (which they described to me). 

“Should I be scared of it?”

“Oh no,” they replied.  “Just wanting to make sure they’re all right.”

When I told them that I didn’t have cell service in the mountains, they said, that was okay, that if I saw the car, mark the trail and let them know when I’m done.

Hmmm.  Now, that was odd.  As I drove away, I wondered why I would need to mark the trail, when it donned on me that they thought that I might see it off the road, as in, drove off the mountain.  Yikes. 

Spooked again, being the only person in the Holy Jim lot:

Holy Jim was quiet, lonely and tranquil.  Beautifully cool and a bit dark, I ran this portion with a slightly aching right hamstring and calve.  About 1 mile in I stopped to stretch the right leg and spotted a rather large campsite hidden deep in the brush, camouflaged a great deal by the forest.  With no road access to the sight, I was tempted to investigate, but then decided to run off quietly, spooked again that perhaps I noticed something I wasn’t suppose to notice. 

A half mile later, I noted from my garmin, I ran upon a red beach towel spread out over a boulder.  This was about the fourth thing out of the ordinary – most of them silly – bit still.  I couldn’t wait to get out of the shaded forest of Holy Jim’s Trail.

I didn’t make great time running up Holy Jim.  But I took deep breaths of beauty and enjoyed myself.  I didn’t see a single person.  And . . . and I wasn’t fooled by a false summit.  I think I’ve finally got the five miles memorized.  (A false summit to me is a high point on the trail that I either think is the last of the hill or some kind of turning point, like another trail head, etc, and it ends up not being so.  A false summit is a big mental downfall in my running). 

The gnats finally found me on The Main Divide.  They were thick at times, other times thin.  More than once I breathed in 3 or 4 through my nose at once!  Out of tissue, my shirt came in handy. 

The Main Divide:

By the time I reached West Horsethief, I would say that my mental game was pretty much lost.  I couldn’t shake the negative talk.  And though I told myself to take this steep switch-back swiftly, I ran it too cautiously.  Extremely rocky, I just couldn’t get over the fear factor.  I thought about how much time I’d lose in Twin Peaks running down West Horsethief, and frankly, that pissed me off. 

At the bottom of Horsethief, I forced myself to shake off the negative stuff and just enjoy the rest of the run.  And that is what I did.  I ran that last very long 3 miles a bit slowly, but enjoyed it nonetheless.

Reaching West Horsethief:

Entering W. Horsethief:

This is how I felt running down, slipping and sliding, tripping along the way down West Horsethief Trail:

But the view was awesome:

ps.  If you wonder why I punctuated the title of this blog that way, it’s because I used a Doors song line, but switched out two words, which I bracketed. 

Feels Like Cheating

I wondered how on Earth I was going to get in ten miles today after a run like yesterday’s.  I woke late this morning sore and a bit groggy.  I've made too many training plan adjustments, so I KNEW I would run ten miles today, no matter how much it hurt.  BUT I wasn’t rushing out the door to do it.  Instead, I washed dishes, floors, clothes, did grocery shopping, made breakfasts, lunches, checked up on my students on-line.  I emptied trash, fed our dog, washed more dishes, organized my running gear.  One might think I was doing everything I could to avoid THE RUN. 

To save on gas, time away from the family and more realistically miserable muggy heat, I decided to run out my front door late this afternoon for today’s run.  The sun shined down strongly, but with the cool ocean breeze, I found the heat pleasantly bearable.  Not only that, I ran on pavement, mostly flat pavement, and I felt strong.  So strong, it felt like I was cheating.  I’m not claiming that today was one of those effortless runs.  No; my calves were tight at the onset.  And I sweated buckets running through the beach campground with their bar-b-que’s and campfires roaring.  But it was certainly no mountain run.  I didn’t run fast, but I found relative ease keeping a decent pace for the entire run.  That just doesn’t happen on mountain runs (a decent pace the entire run, that is).  No way!! 

That’s okay.  I needed a run like today.  But I felt strong for only about the first 4 1/2 miles.  My energy began petering out at about mile five.  That’s way too early for me.  More proof that I needed a run that felt like I was cheating today. 

How I run down flights of stairs – eyes glued to the steps so that I don’t trip:

The boardwalk at Capo:

Running with no gear on my back, no pepper spray . . . the glory of road running:

The marina:

In Way Over My Head

I set my phone alarm last night for 4:30 AM.  As I tossed and turned trying to sleep while the whole house was awake, I made a decision.  My decision was, no Bulldog 50k this year.  This is not the year of redemption for my (so far) only DNF.  This is the year of Twin Peaks, and I’m doing all I can just to finish that 50 miler. I don’t think a preoccupation on Bulldog is the best for me.  

Today’s training plan dictated 22 miles.  Being the middle of summer here in the U.S.,  I’m finding difficulty training for a big fall race, being that it’s so dang hot.  It’s especially difficult when that race is set in the mountains. 

22 miles the plan said, 22 miles I ran.  And after all the heat and torture that I went through, I’d have to say that the best thing that came out of today’s training is that I didn’t die.  Seriously!  And oh ya, I didn’t fall.  Oh, and I didn’t get heat stroke.  Most of all, this run showed me that I’ve got A LONG WAY TO GO and that I have once again bitten off more than I can chew.

So, how do I run a 22 mile suffer-fest in the local mountains on a scorcher of a day without turning around and walking/crawling back to the car?

First off, I left early (but still not early enough).  Secondly, I broke the run into parts.  Without parts I could have never done this run. 

Before “The Parts” / Holy Jim Parking Lot:

About 5:45 AM, coating myself with sunscreen, then putting on a warmer shirt (ha, ha).

Ready to go (the lot is empty except for my truck).

Part 1: Holy Jim Trail (from lot to top, Bear Springs, 5 miles):

The run through the forest was muggy, lots of gnats.  In order to keep the gnats out of my eyes, I wore sunglasses, which meant I pretty much ran in the dark during the first 1.5 miles or so.

Going up on this giant switch-back, back and forth, back and forth.

Part 2: The Main Divide to Santiago Peak (approx. 2.5 miles):

Though only a short distance, this portion was excruciating, especially after the Holy Jim trip.  Besides the steep terrain, I got gnats, biting (horse?) flies and mostly exposed trail (meaning SUN and more SUN).

Running with my training friends THE GNATS.  They’re with me, so that in October when they’re gone, it will seem easier.

A view from Santiago Peak, above the clouds:

Trying for a different kind of pose (okay, you can laugh – I had to think quick!)

Part 3:  Santiago Peak, Main Divide, Upper Holy Jim to Main Divide over to Indian Truck Trail (approx. 5 miles):

Running back to the towers at Santiago (“Talking”) Peak.

Running Upper Holy Jim had lots of tricky and rocky terrain, but at last some shade!  I concentrated so hard on the rocks and not tripping, that once I turned a corner and nearly screamed when I suddenly came upon father and son hikers resting upon some boulders.

Back on the Main Divide, the heat was beginning to wear me down.

Part 4: Indian Truck Trail (In it’s entirety this trail is 6.5 miles one-way, I ran 1.25 down, 1.25 back up today):

Though this part was also short, I found it very difficult.  Even my downhill pace was SLOW.  Really.  I ran through an oven on this trail.  And I also saw the only two runners I would see on this long run.

Heading back up Indian Truck Trail posing before Lilium pardalinum (Panther Lily):

Part 5: Indian Truck Trail to West Horsethief (approx. 3 miles):

These approximate 3 miles were very slow.  However, I was only fooled once by a “false summit.”  Good news, I’m getting to know this mainly uphill portion of The Main Divide.

Part 6: Down West Horsethief, Trabuco Trail back to Holy Jim parking lot (approx. 5 miles):

West Horsethief at last!!  From here it was downhill, a very steep and rocky downhill for the first mile or so.  Then an in and out of shade (forest/desert/forest/desert, etc) for the remainder of the run back to the Holy Jim lot.

West Horsethief comes to an end.

Trabuco, wonderful Trabuco!

I did not gain much confidence on this run.  Rarely did I feel strong.  Mostly I felt doomed when it comes to Twin Peaks.  I tried not to think of that too much though.  I mainly thought, “one foot in front of the other.”   Forget what I said above about the best thing that came out of this run.  The best thing that came out of this run was that I did it. 

Hot Like a Mutha

I would not say that my training is going great.  However, becoming a runner at a relatively late age, I should know that progress comes slowly.  And I should use that patience I learned as a runner to not get so down on myself for not improving quicker, and not adhering precisely to “The Plan.”  I will admit this:  I finish up my runs stronger than I ever have.  I also warm up on the run a tad bit quicker too.  That’s good news to me. 

I set my alarm to ring out at 5:30 AM this morning.  I woke, made a two-cup-pot of coffee.  My gear was already in a pile by the big chair.  Then I looked for a blanket, curled up on the couch and fell back asleep.  Thank goodness I had the family on my side re: running this morning.  I was able to get out the door by 9:30 AM.  (I had planned to be back before everyone woke)  Who am I kidding?  They practically pushed me out the door.

My feet finally hit dirt around 9:50 AM.  The skies were dark and cloudy.  But it was HOT AND MUGGY.  Sweat poured off my forehead early on in my run.  The air was so thick, I found nasal breathing difficult at times, especially climbing Mentally Sensitive Trail.  It was hot like a mutha, as we used to say where I grew up.  I grew up inland (but still in California), where temperatures routinely rose to 3 digit Fahrenheit.  “Hot like a mutha,” stood for something more profane that I won’t spell out here.  Let me just say, I found great difficulty keeping up my pace with clothing drenched in sweat and the air so dang thick.

At one point in today’s ten mile run, rain came down, and that did little to ease the heat.  Though, I did get some breezes here and there.  

Back at home, closer to the shore, the weather was downright cold for summertime.  Later it rained even harder.  LOL.

Aliso Canyon’s blooms:

Top of the World to you!

Mathis bloom:

Never ceases to amaze me how downright filthy I get running a few trails:

This morning’s profile:

From above:

Incidental Heat Training

Tuesday I made the mistake of driving home after work to change clothes for my run.  I never made it back out the door.  I was simply too tired, and felt badly the whole day over not following my training plan.  Another voice said into my ear, “You’re tired, that means rest!”  And so I napped. 

Today (Wednesday) I dressed for my run before leaving work.  My feet hit the dirt at 12:30 pm, possibly the hottest part of the day.  Unsure what route to run at Aliso/Wood Canyons I aimed for around ten miles.  That’s what my training plan said for today – ten miles. 

As I ran through Aliso Canyon I asked myself whether I wanted misery at the beginning or at the end of my run.  I decided for misery before pleasure.  LOL.  Therefore, I ran into Wood Canyon, where the heat gets trapped and it feels like running through an oven.  I saw a trail friend going in the opposite direction.  He told me it was so dang hot, he turned around at Top of the World and ran straight back, throwing out a longer plan.

I am here to testify that the run was pretty miserable running through Wood Canyon, and it didn’t get any better when I hopped onto Coyote Run Trail (though I got some shade running Coyote).  I also saw a deer racing down a slope halt in his tracks when he noticed me.  I stopped for a better look.  He stood in the forest like a statue, not moving an inch.  And so I ran on, suffering.  Actually, it was miserable running up Rockit Trail too.  Why?  IT WAS DANG HOT!

Coyote Run Trail:

Rockit Trail:

Running the ridgeline (West Ridge) I received the benefit of empty trails and an occasional, lovely breeze during this incidental heat training run.  Top of the World was empty also.  But in Alta Laguna  park I saw some hikers packing up their car after a heat-stroke kind of hike. 

I felt good running along Top of the World.  Though I worried a bit because I didn’t take the time to refill fluids at the park.  Today’s run was one of those that I grew stronger as the miles passed.  And I made the right choice not refilling.  I had plenty of fluids.  And I actually found another crazy person, a hiker going up Meadows as I ran down. 

I finished up Meadows at a much fast pace than I started.  And I finished off Aliso Creek Trail much, much stronger for the heat.  I heard a few rattlers in the brush as I ran by.  And I saw one garter snake.  It practically floated over the grass.  Amazing. 

About to descend upon Meadows: 

The Incidental Heat Training Profile:

On and Off the Training Plan

Saturday:  Twin Peaks training plan adjustment.  Instead of the plan, I volunteered for the Harding Hustle 15/30/50k Ultra.  And so fortunate was I to be assigned to the “Four Corners” aid station.  I woke at 4:30 AM, left before sunrise for a shift that began at about 5:45 AM. 

I was the driver for this aid, so we packed the bed of my truck TO THE BRIM.  We had ice chests full of ice, lots of food, soda, chairs, radio equipment, etc.  All this stuff weighed down the back of my truck, which was a good thing.  With an empty bed, the back of my truck slides slightly in the opposite direction that I turn when I’m off-roading.  A little relieved about a weighed down bed I was a tiny bit anxious about the drive because I had never driven up Harding Truck Trail (the gates are always locked) AND I was driving 3 others to the station.  Among the group in my truck were two other trail runners (Donna and Red) and “The Radio Guy” (That’s what I called him, then when I asked him his name, he answered “The Radio Guy”).  Another radio guy and an EMT met us at the top as well.

Anyway, the drive was bumpy.  The trail was overgrown.  There were times when the sun shined directly in my eyes.  You don’t see yellow or white when the sun shines directly in your eyes like I thought.  You see BLACK.  This unnerved me a bit since I was driving alongside a cliff for 9 miles!  But then the radio guy suggested I look at the bottom of the truck in front of me, and if I suddenly didn’t see the truck, stop.  I laughed.  But it worked.  It got my eyes off the sun and gave me some vision of the road.

We were the aid for the 30k turnaround point.  And we were aid for the 50ker’s continuing up to Santiago Peak, and on their return.  I had a blast filling water bottles, refilling goodies.  I saw some runners that I know, lots that I recognized.  In my opinion we all worked together well at the station.  I also liked the fact that I felt comfortable telling runners where they were, how much longer, etc.  I’ve been up on these trails more than once. 

Volunteering the Harding Hustle was a fantastic experience, drive and all.  It was 1:30 when we finally arrived back down at the bottom of the mountain.  3:00 PM, I was home

“Four Corners” Aid Station:

Sunday:  Back to Twin Peaks Training.  I hit the trails about 3PM for an out-and-back to Top of the World in Laguna Beach.  It was HOT.  Fortunately, the heat took less than ten minutes off my best for this route.  I’m gaining back some of my heat tolerance.

I had a little incident that I’d like you to decide whether or not I was a bully.  I ALWAYS run the right side of the trail.  Most runners, hikers and mountain bikers stay to the right.  We after all drive on the right side of the road here in the U.S.  Staying on the right is not a rule it’s just something that happens more often than not.  What I believe is a rule, is that if both people are travelling downhill, the one lower down the hill has the right of way.  That person after all does not have eyes on the back of their head and therefore cannot see who is travelling behind them.  Also, bikers yield to runners and hikers.  Common etiquette also dictates that you let others know you are coming.  For example, I let myself be known by speaking when I’m coming up on hikers (especially on a single-track).  Mountain bikers often ring a bell or speak up.  Also, you pass on the left.  Generally, I give everyone the right of way, IF I KNOW THEY ARE THERE.  (I especially give bikers moving uphill the right of way, even if they are on the “wrong side of the trail.”) 

Today, I was running downhill on West Ridge on the right side of the trail.  I took a step to the right to hug the right edge, opening up the trail more for bikers, etc.  Just about then, a woman screamed “ON YOUR RIGHT,” at the exact moment she passed me riding extremely fast, almost uncontrollably fast.  I hopped out of the way, but we were so close I could feel the breeze of her speed as she passed.  When she reached the uphill, she glared back at me and continued up the hill.  What??? The woman nearly wiped me out.  More than perturbed, I hollered out, “You might think about a bell!”  Moments later her friend dinged her bike bell and passed me on the left. 

Now, I am really not one to confront strangers, pretty much under any circumstances.  But as I ran up that hill, steam began to escape from my ears.  When I reached the top of the hill, the woman was resting with her friends (another woman and three males).  I stopped, intent to give her a lesson on the rules of trail right of ways.  And this is what I said in a stern voice, “Did you throw me a dirty look back there when you nearly ran me over?”  The entire group seemed stunned that I approached her with this question.  And they all simultaneously stumbled over their words.  The offender said, “Oh no!  I was just struggling so much, that was a look of discomfort.  We’re good,” she continued, “we’re good.”  The others chimed in, “Ya, ya, everyone lived to tell about it.  It’s all good.  We’re all good.”

I said a few light-hearted things, smiled and told them to have a good time.  Frankly, I was a bit embarrassed about my approaching this lady, especially since I was so out-numbered.  I seriously was going to give her a list of rules if she had answered differently.  But she seemed so worried by my obvious anger, that I let it go and moved on, shocked still by my behavior.  So, what do you think?  Who had the right away?  Should I have said something to the woman?  If so, what should I have said? 

Just wondering. 

A pose at Top of the World on this HOT afternoon (wearing my Harding Hustle volunteer shirt):

A view of Santiago and Modjeska Peaks from West Ridge: