Despite Defeat, I Still Love Trail Running

Well, things have not been going as planned.  Goals have not been met.  I’ve been sleeping a lot.  I mean A LOT.  The day before the Saddleback Marathon in fact, after disturbing dreams, I woke at 6:00 AM, got the boys off to school.  Then when I arrived home at 8:30, I went promptly back to sleep and didn’t wake until noon.  I fought against a nap all afternoon.  I was sound asleep by 9 PM.   One would have thought I would have been good and strong for Saturday’s race.  I thought so.  I left the home at 6:00 AM Saturday, anxiety-free, feeling rested.  I drank 2 cups of coffee and also about 16 ounces of carrot juice for breakfast (this is standard for me). 

The 24th year of the Saddleback Marathon was festive.  I relished the atmosphere of 75 runners prepping for a run through the Saddleback Mountains.  I did my usual 45 minute walk-about to warm up.  And while walking along the road, a car pulled over, the window rolled down and a man with a British-like accent said “You don’t know me, but I read your blog.  You’re Lauren, right?”  He said that he’d only been in the states for a couple of weeks and found a lot of these trails largely because of this blog.  Wow.  He was so kind to stop and compliment me, a stranger like that.  I felt pretty good.

My only concern was not beating or even making last year’s time.  But I felt that I would do okay.  This race is run on “my” trails after all.  I’ve run them again and again.

The start caught me off-guard with my vest half-way on.  A friendly runner whom I see at almost every race, helped me get it untangled and on as we ran from the start.  The crowd took off ahead of me which is normal.  Plus I always line-up at the back.  I wasn’t even that concerned that my energy seemed minimal at first.  I’m often a stronger finisher than I am starter.

The first 3 miles, which were most mainly uphill were unreasonably tough for me.  Surprised, I still didn’t worry too much because Trabuco Trail lay ahead.  I knew that I would gain some of the time that I lost.

I flew down Trabuco with a top pace of 8:14 (according to my garmin).  I didn’t waste any time taking photos, though I filmed a little, and I passed three runners. 

Then something happened on the way up Holy Jim.  My foot had been bothering me for a while.  But my neuroma foot has been bothering me a lot lately, and I’ve been able to run through the pain (history on that in another entry).  The weather grew warm as I made the climb.  I didn’t layer for this race.  I figured that I’d just roll up my sleeves.  But the thing was, I also didn’t re-fill fluids at the end of Trabuco.  With fluids running low, my body over heating and my foot aching, my energy seemed to seep out of me not like a leaking balloon – more like a pin stuck to a balloon.  My energy popped.  I felt nauseated.  And at times I felt a little lightheaded.  I even staggered here and there up that giant switch back. 

Then my fight with the demons began.  The battle that raged on in my head got so intense I ended up crying.  No.  Not just crying.  I was bawling while running, while running up hill.  As you can imagine, breathing became very difficult, and I nearly hyper-ventilated.  I probably would of, had two cyclists not just turned the bend.  I didn’t want them to try and help me or have any concern over me, so I immediately sucked it up. 

By the time other runners passed me, I had pulled myself together on the outside.  I told the last woman who passed me that I was out.  I was going to DNF.  I think I told her before I “officially” told myself.  From that point onward, the climb up Holy Jim was pure hell.  It took everything I had not to sit down and rest.  Saturday, that trail certainly earned its other names for me: Holy Crap and Holy Cow. 

I probably could have finished the race.  But why?  My foot ached, I felt light headed, nauseated and was losing my balance.  I can’t even go into the brutal war that was raging on in my head. I didn’t see any reason to put myself through the misery any longer.

A long time ago, after my other DNF, I told myself that if I ever DNF’d again, I would do it with dignity.  I did my crying in private.  And once the tears dried, I didn’t cry again.  I was gracious, and oh so thankful for the aid workers when I finally reached them.  I even offered to help, though they insisted that I rest.  Most importantly, I made dang sure that my drop was recorded so that no one would have to go searching for me in the mountains.

This would have been a perfect DNF with dignity had I not done one thing.  When the aid workers drove past my truck, I had them let me out there.  I did not go back to the Start/Finish line to congratulate and bid farewell to friends.  I regret that.  If there’s a next time, and there will probably be, I will not omit the last step.  If I will perfect anything, I will perfect the DNF.  LOL.

Despite defeat, I still love trail running.

This is how far I got, and though I didn’t get any photos, I did take some video.  And if you know me, you know I made a DNF video (below).

Saddleback Marathon 2012

Solo Saddleback Training Run

I got a late start this morning for my one and only training run for The Saddleback Marathon.  I actually started my run at 9:00 AM.  I rarely start mountain runs that late.  But it’s autumn now, so the weather was nice and cool.  I even wore long sleeves and ran the heater on the drive to Trabuco Canyon.

Planning runs, I forget to count prep time at my truck – this morning it took me ten plus minutes prepping before I took off up the mountain:

It’s deer season in California.  So, I was sure to wear clothing the colors not usually found in nature.  I don’t want to be mistaken for a deer this time of year.  I should have worn a bright orange shirt – but I don’t own one.  I saw two male hunters hiking into the canyon (separately), both in camouflage (but one also wore an orange vest).  Both carried their rifles with a sling over their shoulder, with the barrels pointed upward.  Both also, though youngish men (younger than me), wore their heads shaven clean.  

I ran up Holy Jim, reminiscing about Twin Peaks, or rather trying to reminisce.  I don’t recall much now of running up Holy Jim.  I know today the trail was a lot more crowded with hikers and mountain bikers.  I timed myself going up, but that went out the window when my spouse left a phone message and started texting me.  I forgot to leave a note where I was running today.  This halted my run up Holy Jim because I was afraid to keep moving forward, lest I lose my cell connection.  The other problem was that I couldn’t READ MY PHONE!  Why?  Because I can’t see close up or tiny things without my glasses.  So, I texted HJ.  And hubby brainstormed my oldest son to find out that HJ meant Holy Jim.  (I was so proud of my son : )

Heading up Holy Jim:

Just before reaching The Main Divide, I heard a gunshot.  Just one.  My time was not good when I finally reached the divide.  I turned right and continued running without stopping.  More trucks than usual drove along the divide.  A few motorcyclists did as well.  I made the next junction (Indian Truck Trail) in good time, actually ten minutes faster than usual. 

View of Riverside county from the divide:

This is what much of running the divide is like, but this is section less hilly and less rocky than other parts:

I made it to a secret water stash just in time.  After refilling my pack I heard talking and laughing.  I didn’t want to exit the hiding spot, so I remained hiding in the bushes.  I waited and I waited.  I didn’t want to expose the water spot by exiting just as they went by.  Then again, they might have been runners who knew about the spot.  I waited and waited some more.  Thing was, I needed to pee.  And I could not, would not pee anywhere a secret water stash.  So, I finally pushed through the bushes, and ran up the trail to find four hikers taking photos of themselves.  I came “out of nowhere” to them.  And they were just about in the spot where I had decided to duck into the bushes to do my business.  (I’m just telling it how it is : )  I took a picture of their group with their camera before taking off along the divide to find another sufficient “spot.”

Anyway, the gnats flew about my face as I ran toward Trabuco Trail.  My timing wasn’t too bad.  What was bad was my trip down Trabuco.  This trail is one of the most beautiful trails I know.  It’s also very rocky, and I tend to run it fearfully, which is not good for my time.  There was a day when I ran down Trabuco much quicker.  But with my falls over the past couple years, I’ve grown timid.

Trabuco Trail:

I think I’ll save my quicker running down Trabuco for this Saturday’s race.  Overall, I ran to my truck at a slower speed than expected.  But overall, I enjoyed my training run.  I love these mountains.

Today’s profile:

The Big Loop, Clockwise

Today, I had enough time to run “The Big Loop” in Aliso/Wood Canyons.  I call it “The Big Loop” because it’s basically the biggest single loop one can run in the park.  Actually, it’s not exactly a loop, it’s more a lollipop loop.

Well . . . kind of a funny looking lollipop:

Clockwise, “The Big Loop” has a climb that is short and steep.  It’s pretty brutal, travelling UP Mentally Sensitive (aka Psycho Path) to the ridge.  Counter-clockwise, “The Big Loop’s” climb is long and gradual.  I prefer to go for the excruciating, but over somewhat quickly, than a constant, long gradual uphill.

The Big Loop was a joy today.  I came practically face-to-face with a deer.  The meeting was a tad scary.  Though they’re not predators, this one could have easily knocked me down and kicked out some teeth. 

The weather again was cool and crisp.  I simply adore autumn.  I do believe it has the perfect running weather here in Southern (coastal) California. 

I’ll make this quick and end this entry with some scenes from today.  The next couple days are long work days for me, I’ve got to get to bed.  Fortunately, I got this wonderful run in today.

Climbing Mentally Sensitive:

Top of the World:

Chance meeting running through Wood Canyon:

Back in the Saddle

I love not training!  I got out on the trails this morning and I did not think about negative splits, pace or how I need to improve.  I merely had a set number of hours that I got to “play” in the wilderness.

I took off on Aliso Creek Trail with the creek to my left flowing heavier than usual.  My calves started off stiff on this partially paved trail.  I stopped about 3/4’s of a mile in to stretch.  Onward I ran toward Wood Canyon, never to feel that stiffness in my calves the remainder of today’s run.  The skies were deep blue with white puffy clouds.  The weather was perfectly cool.  I barely grew warm enough to roll up the sleeves of my new Twin Peaks shirt. 

With no route planned today, I ran an old favorite, Cave Rock Trail.  I noticed an amazingly blue bird flutter in the leaves.  And then a reddish-brown hawk flew above.  But I couldn’t get my camera out quick enough for a picture.  So, I merely got back into the moment and kicked into a grove on the downhill back into Wood Canyon. 

Cave Rock dumped me out back onto Wood Canyon Trail.  I startled a female runner when I popped out onto the trail.  It’s easy to miss Cave Rock.  Even when you notice the trail, you aren’t apt to take it.  From appearances it doesn’t look like much of a trail, more like a little trip around a big rock.  Runners can’t see that the rock goes on and on.  It took me a few years to finally run it. 

From Wood Canyon, I made one creek crossing, then took Mathis Trail.  But I didn’t take that sharp incline to the ridge.  Instead, I ran another little unknown trail called Nature Loop.  It’s a magical single-track, ridgeline trail with tremendous views of all the main thoroughfares.  Nature Loop is one of those trails where you can see everything, but no one can see you. 

Creek Crossing on Mathis Trail: 

Nature Loop:  Going up . . .

Nature Loop (perhaps the best kept secret in the park) dumps out onto Coyote Run Trail.  I love Coyote Run, but sometimes it bores me with its length.  This is where Nature Loop helps.  It cuts off about half of Coyote Run. 

I saw my second person on the trails today on Coyote Run – he was a mountain biker.  We approached head-on.  I moved to the right.  He did the same.  I love it when it all works! 

Coyote Run:

Coyote Run dumps back out onto Wood Canyon Trail.  I didn’t see any other person and enjoyed running the canyon to its end.  Then I ran up Cholla Trail to West Ridge.  I picked up my speed on West Ridge, so happy to finally run trails for the sake of running trails.  Lovely! 

I didn’t summit today.  Why?  Because I didn’t want to.  No, not really.  I didn’t have the time.  Instead, I blasted down Mathis, to make this an 11 mile run and get back in time to stretch and drive home in time to shower and dress for work.

I love runs like these.

A quick stop on West Ridge to “point out” Saddleback Mountains:

Elevation profile:  I opted for a gradual climb to the ridge.  Really . . . I’m serious:

Twin Peaks Recovery

Recovery has been slow.  But that’s okay because I let so many things slide lately, things with deadlines.  I used this week’s down time to get caught up working. 

The first 3 days after Twin Peaks, I woke with extremely stiff legs.  My feet feel good.  I haven’t done much of anything to speed recovery, which is probably why it’s been slow.  How do I speed up recovery?  I foam roll, do floor exercises, stretch those hips and IT band.  All I’ve really done is foam roll – and just once or twice.

Today, I got in my recovery run.  I started late on the trails this morning since I needed to get the boys off to school.  The weather was delightfully cool with a slight breeze.  I took off with a pack because I wasn’t quite sure how far I’d run.  I don’t know what I was thinking, but I decided to add Car Wreck Trail UP HILL (see the steep portion in the elevation profile below.)  It kicked my butt all over the place.

Turns out that I didn’t need the pack, because I put in just under 8 miles.  A handheld would have done with this weather.  Eight miles is good.  I’m certainly not complaining.  I didn’t realize how much that big uphill would shove me around. 

I also forgot to tape my arches.  Turns out, I didn’t feel discomfort at all.  The best thing about today’s run was that it was PRESSURE FREE.  Yes, gloriously pressure free.  I simply got to enjoy.  No worrying about my performance and how I’m going to in Twin Peaks.  That story has now been written. 

Running down into Wood Canyon:

Descending a staircase on Wood Creek Trail:

Coyote Run (where the fairies fly freely):

Running Oak Grove Trail:

Entering Car Wreck:

Car Wreck Trail:  Going up

Greetings from Top of the World:

This morning’s profile:

Twin Peaks Ultra 2012 Recap

Awake at 2 AM, I was on the road shortly, slotted for arrival to Indian Truck Trail by 3:30 AM (an hour before my start time.)  I felt no nervousness as I drove the lonely highways around the Saddleback Mountains.  I felt calm. 

About 3:15 AM, all lanes on the 91 freeway abruptly stopped.  STOPPED.  Stopped as in, we didn’t move for about 45 minutes.  People shut off their cars.  I learned from the radio there was a fatal accident up a ways. 

A highway patrol officer walked about the freeway lanes talking to some drivers and pointing to the right.  Then slowly, but surely, the traffic began to move to the right, into a single lane.  Race time came before I made it to the offramp.  I didn’t fret.  Someone had lost their life.  It seemed rather foolish to worry about starting on time.  I merely figured that I would start the race when I started. 

4:33 AM, I was finally driving the offramp and noticed traffic dumping into another jam on the city streets.  The car in front of me made a u-turn over the dirt median to enter the onramp adjacent to our offramp.  I followed suit.  There were no cars on the freeway, except of course for the driver ahead of me.  And off to my left, two lanes over, lay a corpse covered with a tarp.  It looked oddly flat.  And that scene stays vividly with me today.

I arrived to Indian Truck Trail in a solemn mood, but I was oddly giddy.  The first wave had already started up the mountain.  I took off up Indian Truck trail alone.  4:50 AM.  I enjoyed my run in the dark.  I took in the black coolness, and didn’t think about anything.  A few miles up the road I could see bobbing headlamps from the other runners.

The sun had risen by the time I reached the Main Divide, equipped with a cheerful aid crew.  They were also late due to the accident, but on-time for my arrival.  John Hocket, the sweeper who chased me and Hank down the mountain last year was there this year with friendly words. 

It took me more than twenty minutes longer to travel this trail than it did the last time I ran it.  I had some making up to do -- my time was already fifteen minutes too slow to make later cutoffs.

The second wave front runners began to pass me as they ran at tremendous, strong speeds.  My morale was dipping.  And then Scott Barnes passed me with a smile and kind words.  I didn’t recognize him at first.  The last time I had seen him was Twin Peaks 2011 at the top of West Horse Thief where I waited as a pacer – he placed 3rd that year, the first year he ran this race (This year, he finished the 50 miles in 2nd place!).  

Anyway, I reached the next aid before I knew it.  Terrific workers manned West Horse Thief, optimistic, smiling and proud.

A cool wind blew as I ran above the clouds.  Other runners passed me as well, pretty much for the next several miles.  A little star-struck, I noticed the faces of many runners that are famous in the local ultra community.  And I saw the faces of friends and other runners that I’ve met again and again on the trails.  I didn’t see my friends Hank or Cody though, as they had taken off with the first wave, and with my lonely start, I just wasn’t quick enough to catch them.

I took the rocky downhill called West Horse Thief slower than I planned.  My friend Robert Whited passed me here with more encouraging words.  By the time I reached the bottom of West Horse Thief, I knew that I was in possible trouble as far as making the cut-offs.  Of course, “that time of the month” hit (yes, I’m still young enough),  and the melancholy that accompanies it did not stay home.  I just COULD NOT pick up my speed to my best.  I was able to increase my speed a bit, but with a foot that was beginning to ache (my neuroma foot), I worried.  But I refused, flat out refused, to think about taking the 50k option.  I had decided quite some time ago, that I would finish the 50 mile option or come home with a DNF.  By the time I reached the bottom of Holy Jim, I knew there was still a chance, but I was going to need some special footwork.

The aid station workers noticed that I hadn’t drank much at all.  I didn’t need refills on anything at mile 15.  So I guzzled down the remaining fluids in my handheld and refilled before the climb up Holy Jim.  

I ran practically the entire 5 mile Holy Jim trip.  I probably shouldn’t have.  I think I was beginning to lose my nerve and wasn’t thinking my best.  A hike would have probably served me better here.  The trip was lonely with a few runners passing me.  I really didn’t think much at all.  I was afraid to think, afraid, because I wanted to quit.  Instead, I put one foot in front of the other and took in the awesome scenery.  I made decent time up Holy Jim.  Still, I had fallen way behind in my schedule.  I refilled my handheld at an unmanned aid station at Bear Springs.  And that’s when I finally allowed myself to think about IT.  There was no way that I was quitting.  And there was no way I was going to make the 50 mile option.  And for the first time, I DID NOT WANT A DNF.  And so I allowed myself the option, the 50k option.  I made the decision remarkably fast, and without regret.  I really felt there was no option.  For all this struggle, I wanted a finisher’s medal, not a DNF.  I chose to take the 50k option. 

All I had to do was make it to Santiago Peak, which I’ve done dozens of times, then it would be basically downhill from there.  The trip to the peak was absolutely miserable.  I ran very little of it, probably 5 percent.  Every single step was painstaking.  It was the worst trip to the peak ever.  I felt utterly fatigued and my foot ached.  But I felt relief.  There were also some high points, the best being that I got to see Cody as he ran down from the peak.  I was so happy that he looked strong.  I told him my decision, wished him a good trip.  I felt comfortable that he was going to make the 50 miles.  I met lots of other fine runners struggling up to the peak.  Despite the pure, hellish agony, I enjoyed myself.  My foot even felt better.

When I finally reached a hospitable aid station at the peak, I emptied everything out of my pack and put it in my drop bag.  I ate a few potato chips, drank some Coca-Cola, and then I took off for a long, long downhill trip to finally end this race.   I was one hour behind schedule at Santiago Peak, which reaffirmed my decision.

With the decision made, though I struggled, I felt happy to be running the trails, to be participating in Twin Peaks.  I felt fortunate.  I would not allow myself to dwell on my decision.  I simply had to do it.  And I left it at that.

Upper Holy Jim was a pleasure.  I filmed quite a bit and remembered fondly where I had fallen several weeks back (seriously).  I met up with Steve Harvey (Old Goat race director) at Indian Truck Trail.  And then I began the long, long, winding trip down Indian Truck Trail.  I didn’t even notice the helicopter hovering about on the divide.  (Turns out, one runner had to be carried a half mile up West Horse Thief and airlifted to a hospital.  I learned very little details, of which I’ll withhold here because I’m not clear on much concerning this.  But thankfully, the male runner was eventually released from the hospital, expected to recover fully.)

Almost everyone running down Indian Truck Trail at this point had taken the 50k option.  Almost everyone.  The first place fifty miler passed me with about 3 miles remaining.  And Scott Barnes passed me with about 50 yards remaining.  These guys ran amazingly strong after such a huge race.  I was in awe.  I had company the last few miles, a young guy named Lucas.  He gave up his hope for the 50 miles after severe cramping set in.  It was nice to have his company, as those last few miles were unbelievably long. 

So, I got my medal, and got to chat and meet many of the runners as we sat about waiting for our drop bags.  I met some new running friends, and talked with old ones.  We ate, we drank.  We had A LOT of time to get to know each other.  I think we waited something like FOUR HOURS for our drop bags.   I noticed a fire truck and ambulance pull up.  I was beginning to hear inklings of trouble at West Horse Thief.  Unfortunately, for my friend Cody, and several other runners, they were dropped from the race at West Horse Thief due to the danger of passing while a helicopter landed.  The situation also delayed our drop bags.  My friend Hank though, made it and finished the 50 miles for the second year in a row! 

EVERYONE has been tremendously congratulatory toward me for finishing the 50k.  I however, do not feel that great about it.  I feel like I failed.  I know that I had to make the decision that I made.  But I still failed.  I was not in good enough shape.  That was where I failed.  On the other hand, the journey was tremendous.  The training was so much fun.  I met wonderful people, and I got to participate in this awesome/prestigious event.  Lots of lessons were also learned.  And that’s important in my life.  Lessons learned – even at my age. 

The 50k option:

Twin Peaks / Saddleback Mountains