Hats

It’s “hard” week again.  And I wasn’t ready.  I really thought that I needed more than one day to recover from last week’s “hard week.”  After much procrastination, running errands, chores, laying around and reading, my husband practically pushed me out the door to run.  The time was 4:00 PM.  And it was hot and muggy.

One thing that occurred to me whilst lazing around this afternoon, falling in and out of sleep, is that I NEVER run without a hat.  Never, ever, ever.  I don’t even wear visors anymore.  It’s always a hat.  I wondered if I could even run without a hat.  What if, perhaps, I left the house forgetting my hat.  Would I drive back?

You betcha. 

I find it humorous that when I take my boys hiking, I ALWAYS say, “Get a hat.”  And they look at me like they wouldn’t know what to do with a hat. 

If I don’t wear a hat, this is what happens:  Sweat drips down from my forehead, salty sweat.  It gets into my eyes (ouch), but even worse, the salty sweat seeps into my eyelid creases and burns a hairline cut across them.   This sometimes even occurs when I wear a hat (on particularly long and hot runs).  A visor will help with the salty sweat, but it won’t help with heat exhaustion.  That’s why it’s always a hat, never a visor which leaves the top of my head exposed. 

Today’s run was relatively short, a little over 6 miles and I still wasn’t going to run it without a hat.  Better yet, today I thought that I’d try one of my hats that I oh, so much want to like.  It’s one of those hats with a flap on the back to provide shade for your neck.  The sun shined particularly bright when I left today.  Time to try it out (again).

Running into Wood Canyon:

Heading up to West Ridge via Cholla Trail:

A view of Catalina Island from Park Avenue Nature Trail (look closely at horizon line):

The verdict on the super cool flap hat . . .  I still hate it.  The hat literally traps the heat in.  I just don’t understand it.  People love these hats.  Even worse, I can’t turn it around to wear it backward.  And that makes all the difference in the world to me.  So I will wash this hat and pack it away in my gym bag for anyone who wants to borrow it.

Another greeting from Top of the World:

Mentally Sensitive / Mathis Loop

I did not sleep well last night.  My quads ached.  The tops of my feet ached.  And my waist was raw from chaffing.  Thing was, I still had one more day of running to finish up “Hard” week.  Today, Sunday, the plan demanded TEN miles. 

AND SO, I drove wearily to Aliso/Wood Canyons for my TEN, most likely, miserable miles.  The park was crowded as usual for these summer weekend days.  Seemed there was one spot to parallel park saved just for me.  I talked with some bikers prepping for their trip.  Then I phoned my husband for some coaching advice.  Should I run a relatively easy eleven mile loop?  Or should I run a semi-tortuous 10 mile loop that goes up Mentally Sensitive?

He voted for the latter.   And the latter I took.  I began slowly, but I felt good.  Surprisingly good.  My spirits lifted when I turned up onto Meadows (one of my favorite trails).  I jumped into the brush to let at least ten mountain bikers pass as I ran its beginning slightly rolling hills.  And then I made it . . . made it to Mentally Sensitive.  One rule, I told myself:  SIMPLY NO STOPPING.  I didn’t have to run the entire trail, but I had to keep moving forward.  Turns out, I ran about 50% of that tortuous trail, and I hiked the rest powerfully.  Also, for the first time ever, I saw others on Mentally Sensitive.  I came across at least 6 cyclists and 2 runners, all travelling downward. 

Great run.  Great breeze.  Took Mathis Trail down to the canyon (an old best friend trail).  Got to enjoy talking to a trail friend, and hear the story of his recent triathlon.  Best of all, I made good time, got in my ten miles, and felt amazingly strong, especially after yesterday’s LONG, long, long run.

Running up Mentally Sensitive:

Running toward Top of the World after conquering Mentally Sensitive:

Good Morning from Top of the World:

Miscalculated

Today’s training schedule dictated 26 miles.  I thought it would be so much easier if I could just find a marathon to run.  Really.  I searched the internet on Friday.  The only reasonably priced and kind of close marathon was sold out. Dang.  I was just trying to make it easy on myself.  Can you blame a girl? 

Instead driving to the mountains, I concocted a three-park loop in the local coastal hills:  Aliso/Wood Canyons, Laguna Wilderness and Crystal Cove.  I could make this a really long story.  Truth is, I’m just too tired.  Short story is that I miscalculated my 26 miles.  I knew this early on.  So, I altered my loop.  Even with the altered loop, I realized I was still WAY over 26 miles.  But I couldn’t cut it short when I realized this at about 15 miles, because I needed to refill fluids at Ridge Park.  After refilling, I decided to cut it short again (else come in at 30 miles), then I took a wrong turn (for a short detour) and made it back to my truck at 28.53 miles (about 46 km). 

I arrived home overheated and dead-dog tired.  But I felt good, more confident than usual, after being able to run it all the way in.  I am ready for an early night to bed. 

So onward to the pictures, lots of pictures:

Entering Aliso/Wood Canyons:

Wood Canyon:

Exiting Aliso/Wood Canyons Park:

This sign is NOT needed:

See?  No sign needed:

Entering Laguna Wilderness:

Laurel Canyon Trail:

Moro Ridge overlooking Pacific Ocean:

Entering Crystal Cove:

Crystal Cove:

The water fountain!  The water fountain!

Homeward bound, running Rock It:

Elevation Profile (And the route for those interested:  Aliso Creek Canyon Trail, Wood Canyon Trail, Cholla, West Ridge, Stairstep, cross Laguna Canyon, Laurel Canyon Trail, Willow, Bommer Ridge, Old Emerald, Emerald Canyon, Old Emerald Falls, Moro Ridge, B.F.I., No Dogs, No-Name, Bommer Ridge, Willow, cross Laguna Canyon, Stairstep, West Ridge, Rock It, Coyote Run, Mathis, Wood Canyon Trail, Aliso Creek Trail )

Brutal!

I knew the third consecutive run of “Hard” week would be difficult.  I didn’t think the run would be brutal.  Ten miles, that’s all the plan said.  But I decided to run my ten miles on a Holy Jim Out-And-Back.  That’s a five mile trail in The Saddleback Mountains that ends at The Main Divide (Bear Springs).  It’s a tough five miles up (even down).  I’ve got it down now that I can usually run it all. 

I didn’t feel rested this morning, as I haven’t been sleeping well.  And I felt a little weak.  "Don’t care about time,” I told myself, “just do the miles.”

Slightly muggy and a little cool at the same time, about a thousand, yes ONE THOUSAND gnats decided to accompany me during the first two miles of Holy Jim.  I’m sure that I breathed in half a dozen through my nose. 

The downed tree still blocked Holy Jim just after the water falls turnoff.  That was delightful, hiking up the mountainside with a thousand gnats buzzing my face so that I could get around the tree.  I pushed it a little harder, though my pace was still slow, just to get away from those tiny bugs.

I tired easily running up that switch-back that I used to call “Holy Crap” instead of Holy Jim.  Today it felt once again like “Holy Crap.”  I felt a little light-headed and even hiked a few portions of single track.  Then I finally settled in and began enjoying the immense views.

I don’t know how this occurred, but at about 3.5 miles up, my camera flew out of my hand and off of the mountain.  You can imagine my horror as I looked down the side to see it resting lightly on a small tumbleweed-like plant.  The camera was probably about twenty feet down, so I needed to get down there.  Somehow.  I stood sideways at the edge figuring the best way to get down to my camera when the ground beneath me gave away.  I immediately fell and began sliding.  I quickly slid past my camera, unable to reach it.  I grabbed at plants on the way down to easily uproot everyone of them.  This slope was not secure!  Everything I touched went down with me. 

Many, many things go through my mind when stuff like this happen.  I knew instinctively to push my body into the mountainside.  I didn’t want to go airborne.  And I also knew instinctively to dig, dig, dig my foot into the mountain wall as I slid.  What I thought was this:  “Dang it!  It’s going to take ‘them’ forever to find me if I slide all the way to the ravine!”  I even kind of chuckled over the fine mess that I had found myself in.  My main thought, not really thought, but feeling was, “Don’t fall backward!” 

I finally dug my foot deep enough into the slope to stop my sliding.  And I began the slow process of digging in and climbing back up.  I looked for my camera on the way, didn’t see it at first.  Apparently, it slid some too in my avalanche.  Thank goodness there it was laying, as if not a care in the world, in that loosened plant, it’s lens still extended.  (Also, thank goodness I bought that extended in-case-you-throw-your-camera-off-a-mountain-and-break-it warranty). 

Climbing back up onto the trail, I found myself covered in dirt.  I had a minor cut on my left hand, a gash on right elbow (with a tiny bit of skin flapping),and welts up and down my left arm (that I didn’t notice until I got home).

Needless to say, the remaining trip to Bear Springs was excruciating!  Fatigue overwhelmed me, but eventually I made it.  I walked about on top, into the sun mainly to get away from my newly found gnat friends.  You can’t imagine how dang glad I was to have reached the top.  It was only five miles, but heck, what a brutal five miles.   I ran back so, so, so happy that I had only five miles left of mostly downhill.  And best of all, my camera still worked (for now!). 

I made decent (not good) time on the way back, especially considering my fatigue.  I even worked (ever so slightly) on my pivots around the switch-back turns.  And then of course those ONE THOUSAND gnats were back to greet me and run in the last two miles of this brutal run. 

Change of Scenery / Day Two of Hard Week

I should have wondered why I didn’t see a single other runner this morning.  I even only saw a few hikers.  I’ll tell you why no one was out in The Laguna Wilderness or Crystal Cove this morning.  No one came out to play because it was so humid, the air was so thick, even breathing was laborious. 

When I arrived home, my back and hands cramping, I told my husband, “That was hard!” 

“How many miles did you run?” he asked.

“Fourteen.”

“And you expected it to be . . . ?”

I did kind of expect a breeze since I ran so close to the ocean.  I did expect lower temperatures since the skies were overcast.  Expect the unexpected is what I often say.  Today was case in point.

Running in these adverse conditions has got to make me stronger.  Besides that – the trails were gorgeous.  AND, I rarely run these parks, so I needed to guess a 14 mile route.  Can you believe, I was almost right on.

Running No-Name Ridge (seriously that’s the trail’s name), headed toward No-DogsTrail (yup):

Making a turn at bottom of Crystal Cove to run up El Moro Canyon:

I LOVE EL MORO CANYON:

After a (kinda) quick jaunt up Nice and Easily Trail (which wasn’t so easy, but it was nice), I hopped onto Missing Link (below):

From Missing Link I ran El Moro Ridge looking for my second favorite trail here, Old Emerald Falls.  As usual, I made a wrong turn, so I got a little extra mileage added on searching:

Finishing up Old Emerald Falls:

Climbing the wretched Emerald Canyon:

Almost to the top (Bommer Ridge):

An exhilarating roller coaster profile:

The Mental Game

In every sport there’s the physical game and there’s the mental game.  The physical game takes lots of time perfecting, countless hours on the field, on the trail, etc.  The mental game on the other hand, is more difficult for me, and takes place all in my head.  It’s the battle against yourself.  It’s the battle, with me anyway, over whether I can do something, whether I deserve it, or whether I merely quit.  Just, as many aspects can throw the physical game (injury, not being fit), even more things can throw my mental game.  I have been losing the mental game the past few of weeks.  If you read regularly, you may have noticed the posts growing more negative, less carefree. 

Today begins the first run of Hard Week.  And I began this morning’s run having kicked the mental pitfalls out the door a couple days ago.  Forget that I was unable to secure a full-time job for September.  Forget that California is going bankrupt.  Forget that I feel inadequate to finish Twin Peaks.  These things I can overcome, as I can also overcome my bad diet, my failings as a mother, as a writer, and so many other things.  After all, we learn most from our failings don’t we?

Fortunately for me, the weather helped me get off to a good start this morning.  I got a nice cool ocean breeze running up to Top of the World in Laguna Beach.  My ankle is still worrisome to me.  But the pain was minimal.  When I returned home after a 6.5 mile rolling hills run, I iced it, wore an ankle brace for a few hours, then gave myself a pedicure, and it seems just fine. 

This week is going to be a tough, tough week running-wise.  I think I’ll just take it one run at a time.

Ready to ascend upon Cholla Trail which leads to West Ridge: 

Running trails at Aliso/Wood Canyons (either Cholla or West Ridge):

Heading back down Cholla (facing Wood Canyon) after a fulfilling cool summer morning run:

Out-and-back profile to Top of The World: