This Week’s Big Fail

The upper insides of my arms were raw from chaffing yesterday.  (Note to self: I’m never again going to wear a sleeveless shirt with side seams when I run).  Anyway, I rustled around in the bathroom cupboards for something to help the rawness.  And can you believe it – I actually found a couple tubes of baby rash ointment.  Wow.  Our youngest son is 7 years old. This stuff was old.  I thought I try some anyway, and sure enough, it helped sooth the pain of chaffing on my arms.

I left the house this morning in the dark, 4:30 AM, for an early start on my long run.  I drove through Trabuco Canyon unable to even see the outline of Santiago Peak.  I could see the taillights of another truck driving the gravel/dirt road.  On the side of this road, I noticed a parked truck.  A woman and young girl (about 8 years old, with long dark hair) stood outside the truck by themselves in the pitch-black dark. They seemed to be waiting for something.  They didn’t wave me down.  I didn’t stop. 

As I drove deeper into the canyon, the truck up ahead pulled over.  I passed him and noticed a mountain bike upright in the bed of his truck.  He had the light on in the cab and was looking down on something.

I passed him and drove on along this bumpy road, and passed another car parked at an angle along the road.  There were no lights.  It was apparently empty.

When I finally made it to the trailhead it was still dark.  And so I sat and waited for the sun.  I didn’t need it to “rise.”  I just wanted the sky to lighten a bit before I took off running up the mountain.  Then the truck I passed (the one with the mountain bike) pulled into the lot.  He parked a couple spaces away.  And we both sat in the dark . . . waiting.

I applied Glide to all the other places that normally chafe (waistband, the lines of my sportsbra, etc).  I applied sunscreen and turned on my garmin.  And I continued to sit.  Unlike yesterday when I didn’t think, and just ran, this morning, I sat there and thought. 

I had my 24 mile route all figured out.  I packed some plastic bags to clean up some of the empties at the “secret water stash.”  I was even wearing “short” shorts to get rid of that tan line half way up my thighs.  I was there baby! I was there!

And then a strange thing happened.  I started thinking about the heat.  I started thinking about all that time alone and not seeing my family until about 3PM, and I got LONELY.  Sad, kinda pathetic lonely.  Pity-party lonely. 

Now, I have run alone many times.  I have been alone many times.  I enjoy alone time.  I enjoy running alone.  But being alone, and being lonely are too separate things.  Being alone is joyful and peaceful.  Lonely is miserable. 

Looking up at the sky as it started to change color from black to grayish-blue, I thought about how I just couldn’t do it.  I could not run those 24 mountain miles alone.  Not today.  I was dang sick of the heat, and I would be lonely.  I HATE lonely. 

“But,” I thought to myself.  “It would be absolutely ludicrous to go home.”  That would mean two hours driving total, not to mention prepping for this run.  “LUDICROUS.”

“No it wouldn’t,” I answered back defiantly.  “I can do whatever I want!”

And so as the sky grew a little brighter, I turned the key in the ignition and began driving back out of Trabuco Canyon.  The time was about 6:00 AM when I drove past the car parked haphazardly that I saw in the dark on the way in.  It looked like two guys were sleeping in the two front seats.  I could clearly see one, the other was slumped down too far for me to see anything but the top of his head.  When I drove past, I looked into my rear-view mirror and saw that the passenger door was wide open.  The site was just too alarming to ignore. 

I backed up on the dirt road up next to the car and yelled “HEY!” 

No response.  Mind you, my car was idling right next to their’s.  “ARE YOU GUYS ALRIGHT?”

Neither of the men responded.   I could tell the guy in the passenger seat was breathing.  But I wasn’t going to get out of my car and look into their’s further to make sure they were okay.  So, I called the sheriff’s.  I really hoped I wasn’t getting them in trouble – the guys after all, may have been passed-out drunk.   I seriously worried over their condition.  After relaying their location, description, car type and license plate, I took off.  I didn’t want to wait around in case something terrible had occurred.  When I arrived to the canyon lot, I told the first sheriff arriving where to locate the car.  And then I drove home.

I’ve been in kind of a rut ever since.  But I will crawl out soon.  Very soon.

Next week’s running plan:  SKIP THE PLAN.  I’m going to run whatever I want to run.  It’s “Easy” week coming up, so I thought that’d be a good week to be on my own schedule.

Thanks for reading about my fail.

Heat!

Went through it all again this morning when my phone alarm rang out at 4:00 AM.  I rose from bed, walked to the living room and lay on the couch.  Before I fell back asleep, the bargaining began.  It’s hard to bargain with just today and tomorrow left of the week and a specific number of miles to run.  A LOT OF MILES. 

I thought, “Well, I can run coastal hills and do two big loops at Aliso for 24 miles today, then run my ten tomorrow.  That saves at least an hour and a half of driving time, not to mention, it’s an easier run than a mountain adventure.  I could sleep for at least two more hours!!”  I chewed on that for a couple minutes.  “Or . . . OR, I could flip Saturday and Sunday’s schedule and run ten miles today, getting even more time to sleep in”  That is what I chose.  Sunday turned into long run (yikes – talk about putting it off to the last minute!)

I arrived to Aliso/Wood Canyons Park alarmed by how many people were already there.  The dirt lot was full (it’s NEVER full).  The church’s huge lots across the street were full with park-goers as well.  I found a small spot along the street curb to back into.  People were packing bikes up, bringing bikes out.  Groups were gathering with their hiking poles.  I thought, “Who are these stupid people?”  It was so DANG HOT.  Mind you, I knew very well that I was among these stupid people.  In fact, many of them were smarter than me, because they were finishing up, not just starting.

An entire high school cross country team cooled down in the church lot.  Another high school boys’ cross country team made their way into the park’s lot.  As I ran through Aliso Canyon I saw dozens of poor, poor teen-aged girls, grinding in the wicked heat, carrying NO WATER.  They ran from a school that I teach vocational education to adults at night during the school year.  I’ll tell you something, there’s be NO WAY a coach could tell me not to carry a bottle of water.  By 9:15 AM, temperatures were approaching 90 F and rising. 

I knew once I turned off onto Meadows Trail I’d lose the runners.  Hardly anyone ever runs up Meadows.  And I did lose the runners.  But what I gained was about fifty mountain bikers (at different times) flying down that trail.  None of them yielded to the runner (that’s me).  In the mountains, cyclists always yield to the runners.  Anyway, I knew that the bikers weren’t going to yield to me, so I jumped out of the way and ran in the brush, again and again up that mile long switch-back.

Welcome to Meadows Trail:

I made it to the top of Meadows in pretty good time, drenched in sweat and salt.  Several bikers and hikers rested in the shade at the kiosk.  A ranger truck pulled up and parked, then one of the ranger guys got out and handed everyone sitting in the shade some bottled water. 

Plenty of hikers made their way along the top of Meadows.  Even more bikers flew down the hillside.  But I didn’t see any runners.

Top of Meadows:

There’s not much more to tell of this trail tale, except that the weather was flippin’ hot and grew hotter.  Every kiosk was crowded with people resting in the shade.  I saw the ranger truck a few more times, again handing water to people.  I took in minimal calories and lots of fluids.  Good news, though chaffed miserably, and crusted in salt, my energy stayed with me all the way back to the truck.

When I arrived home, we all washed the trucks in this heat.  While resting in the house after the first truck, my husband asked, “How do you do it?  How do you run for hours in this heat.?”

“I just do it,” I said.  “I don’t really think about it.”

Top of the World:

Shade at last in Wood Canyon:

Miles run today:  12.01

Changing it up

I hardly recall shutting off my 6:00 AM alarm this morning.  I do remember waking at 7:00 AM, turning to my husband and gruffly saying, “I’ll run this afternoon.”  To this he sighed and said something like, “Please no complaints when you don’t do it.” 

Why wouldn’t I do it?  Because it’s DAMN HOT, that’s why!!  But I did do it.  Why?  Because I have to.  I need to. 

I checked on-line for the temperatures at my nearest trails: 97 F (36 C).  The temperatures in my beach town were 85 F (approx. 29 C).  So . . . I ran a 15 mile suburban, tourist-city-run this afternoon, beginning at 1 PM.  And the 85 degree temperatures did not feel cool.  Not one bit.

The beginning of today’s run was a struggle, first off, because it was on pavement, and secondly, because I ran inland, mainly uphill, away from the shore (which means HEAT).  Pavement is such a chore for me because I’m not used to the constant stride, the same exact movement over and over.  There were no rocks to hop onto, no logs to walk, just cement for miles.  Eventually though, I made my way back to the Pacific (and I got a bit of variation).

Making my way beneath the highway to the grand ole’ Pacific Ocean:

When I finally made it down to the seaside, I was drenched in sweat.  Yet, I was giddy.  Though the weather was still hot for these parts, a cool ocean breeze blew here and there.  Children ran about, literally screaming with glee.  Innumerable surfers road coca-cola-bottle-colored waves into the slanted shore.  Families spread out on their blankets.  Mothers paced the shore anxiously watching the waves.  As a runner, this was all great “eye candy.”

I was a tad out of place because I was the only person wearing shoes.  The only runner I saw, ran barefoot.  And she blew me away.  I studied her footprint in the sand and noticed she had a heavy forefoot strike.  That would kill me.  A forefront strike that is.  Can’t do it. 

The Difficulty of getting a self portrait:

Sand running was a chore, but not because of strenuous difficulty.  I ran the wet sand which as always, was a delight.  The chore was avoiding the waves, as tide was rising.  Frequently I ran up the sand to avoid a wave rushing up to my legs.  Then it happened.  A wave drenched my right foot.  For a mili-second my wet shoe bummed me out.  Then I remembered that I run through creeks all the time and have frequently run with drenched feet.  For some reason, I guess, it seemed (at first) that suburban running should be with dry feet. 

Since I don’t know the mileage anymore of running locally, I played a little game – a guessing game to get me through the heat.  I’d pick a point far off and guess what mileage I’d be at when I reached it.  Amazingly, I was usually right on. 

After the sand running, I ran up a tortuous amount of stair steps to the headlands where I did some “trail” running, sand trail running.  The views of the deep blue sea were awesome.

Running The Headlands:

After the headlands, I sat for a moment to empty what I thought would be two pounds of sand from my shoes.  Ended up, I only had a small pile of sand to account for.  But it felt great to get that stuff out of my shoes. 

From there, I ran down to the marina for the grand finale of this run.  It was a long grand finale.  And it was still warm.  But I found this portion lovely with plenty of shade and lots of happy people. 

Though I didn’t get the elevation in today (but this wasn’t a “flat” run by any means), I’m super glad I chose to give myself a break from the extreme heat.  And I’m super glad that I slept in.  I hardly ever do that.  I need to do that every so often.

Running down to the Marina:

A Popular Look-Out Spot:

Crossing the Bridge over to the Marina Island, which I ran 1 1/2 times, weary, but wanting to get to as close to 15 miles as possible:

It’s always good to change it up once in a while!

Surviving Zombieland

When I was a kid zombies chased people about as quickly as a clumsy tortoise.  That’s not very fast.  In fact that’s extremely slow.  In my day, the only way to actually get caught by a zombie was to stumble upon one in the basement, frolic through a graveyard (at night), skinny dip in a lake (at night), or stand directly next to a window (because zombies could easily punch through glass windows and yank you right out.)

Nowadays, zombies are still clumsy (and strong as usual), but they have taken some running lessons.  Modern zombies run fast, clumsily still yes, but fast.  I don’t know how well they’d do running uphill, but I suspect they’d catch the average non-runner.  It’s understandable then how they quickly took over the country in the “B” movie, Zombieland.  This also explains why the main character, Columbus (who has a list of thirty-something rules) names his number one rule to surviving Zombieland as CARDIO.

Today, I got in my cardio during my second of 2 back-to-back “hard” weeks.  Nothing like getting my cardio in during scorching hot temperatures.  The trails were desolate which was understandable.  No one’s thinking about zombies in this heat.  Then I met another trail running friend, Steve, as he worked on his cardio in this forsaken heat. 

At least we will stand a chance against zombies.   Plus, I don’t have to out-run the zombies, all I have to do is out-run Steve. (kiddin’)

Miles ran this morning:  13.41 (21.58 km)

Comment

I love, love, love readers who comment on my posts.  That’s not to say I don’t love all readers.  But I REALLY love the comments.  I can tell web-surfers visit my page, and some spend many minutes, enough to read something that I’ve written, which is a big treat for me.  Even “invisible” readers delight me to no end.   

Why do I like comments?  Because I like knowing who you are.  Stats don’t tell me that.  They just tell me what part of the world you’re in, how long you stopped by, and how you got here.   

SO, in an effort to get some comments, please tell me something.  Do you run?  If not, why do you find my blog worth reading?  If so, do you have a long run, how many miles is it?  And is it on the road or the trail?

Thanks for reading!!!

Photo used:  Free image courtesy of FreeDigitalPhotos.net

7 Deer, 2 Coyotes and a Squashed Stink Bug

Today The Plan dictated ten miles.  And I put THAT off as long as I could.  After yesterday’s wild mountain run, I would have never chosen to run ten miles today.  2:30 PM, my feet finally hit the dirt in torrential heat and rather warm winds. 

My calves were tight.  I ran slowly.  Slower than usual!  If I would have thought about it, I would have thought, “I’m never going to be able to do this.”  But I didn’t allow myself to think anything except, “One foot in front of the other . . . one foot in front of the other.” 

Taking on Aliso Creek Trail, One Foot in Front of the Other:

Feeling a bit like the squashed stink bug that I ran past on Aliso Creek Trail, I stopped at Wood Canyon to stretch my calves.  Except for a few bunnies and lots of lizards scampering about, I felt pretty lonely on that dry, hot, windy trail. 

At three miles into the run, I cheered, “Only 7 miles to go!” 

Soon after that, I ran up on several hikers, and as I passed them I saw a coyote prance through the dry grass alongside the trail.  I ran on some more along Wood Canyon Trail and very quickly spotted another coyote making his way through the grass.  Two coyotes within a couple minutes?  Now, THAT was a little different. 

The heat waged on as I eagerly ran toward the woods for some shade and beauty.  But before then, four deer grazing in the dry grass grabbed my attention.  I caught a picture of three of them here: 

By the time I made it to the woods, I felt pretty dang good.  Soreness went with the wind.  Suddenly a large doe jotted across the trail just a few feet in front of me.  I noted that when she reached the wooded area, she didn’t move.  Normally she would have raced off.  This only meant one thing.  There were others.  So, the inquisitiveness in me won over, and I stopped to investigate.  I spotted two baby deer on the side she came from.  Stepping away, I waited briefly for them to cross so that I could snap a picture.  After a minute or so, I figured I needed to run.  And so I ran on, continuing my way to the end of Wood Canyon.

At the end of Wood Canyon, I ran up Cholla, a pretty steep climb, especially in this heat.  But it was short.  Short makes all the difference.  Then I ran the rolling hills of West Ridge, glancing back at Santiago Peak wistfully.  At the top of Mathis Trail, I ran down hill for approximately 2 miles with glee, surprised that I was going to actually do this today – run ten miles. 

With 1 mile remaining, I picked up my speed and ran in disbelief.  “Thank God,” I said out loud . . . “Thank YOU God!”  I am so fortunate. 

Today’s elevation profile / 10.61 miles.  I came up 7 miles short for this week’s plan.  I was scheduled for 62 miles, ran 55 miles due to an injured shoulder and my pity party (& I have to attend my own pity party   What would people say???)