Time was short today, so I cut my big loop short this morning. That meant I got the pleasure of running up my old friend Meadows.
I know Meadows Trail looks excruciating. But it really isn’t that terrible. Well, it’s pretty terrible – the good kind of terrible. What makes Meadows bearable is its majestic views. And it’s also a switchback, which makes pretty much any trail bearable.
The best part is that I experienced no anxiety approaching Meadows Trail. Yet there was a time I wouldn’t run anywhere near Meadows Trail. It was that daunting. I nearly cried the first time I went up. It was quite painful. And that first time, I could barely run even three steps of it. The Saddleback Mountains have successfully dwarfed my old friend.
Today, I ran unusually slow (and that’s PRETTY SLOW). My run was delightful nonetheless because this month I’m on a break! Yes, I’m running through my “break,” even visiting my old friend Meadows. But I’m not stressing and I’m NOT training.
After sleeping much of the afternoon Sunday, I bedded down early. I’m sure I was sound asleep by 10:00 PM. At 12:30 AM, my phone rang out a text, which confused the heck out of me. I thought the sound was my morning alarm. Then I noticed the time. Thinking perhaps someone was texting to check if I was running in the morning, I fumbled for my glasses and opened my phone to read the text. IT WAS AN AD FOR A TAR FREE CIGARETTE KIT addressed to me by name.
Excuse me? Text messages are not free. They count against my account whether I send or receive. And then to send me one at 12:30 AM, when I want to wake at 4:30 AM!! Now, I’m not the type of person to say this to someone, but I was this close (I’m pressing two fingers together) to texting back “F*** Y**” without the asterisks. I decided against that, put my glasses in my shoes on the floor and tossed and turned for a bit until I fell back asleep.
4:30 AM, my cellphone alarm rang out. I woke, turned on the heaters. It was still dark out, and the weather WAS FREEZING. I made a two-cup pot of coffee, bundled beneath two flannel blankets and fell promptly asleep on the couch. (Sound familiar?)
I dreamt about oversleeping and missing a holiday run. I didn’t want to miss a run on a holiday. Holidays are perfect running days. Why? Because trail running is a form of celebration most of the time for me.
I actually woke myself out of my dream at 6:30 AM. On the road at 7:00 AM, I made it to the Maple Springs trailhead around 8:00 AM. The wind blew cold. Bundled up, I took off for a 7.5 mile uphill run to “Four Corners” in the freezing cold.
Goofing around at the trailhead before taking off:
I saw two runners on their way down, two cyclists. Other than that, I was alone (but not lonely) the entire uphill trip. The creeks were dry. The Maples were turning yellow. And I spooked two small deer on the road.
This was a peaceful run. A much needed run. I chose Maple Springs, located in Silverado Canyon because I just couldn’t face Trabuco Canyon right now. I wanted a anxiety-free, moment-by-moment run. I didn’t want to face my defeat in Trabuco Canyon. Maple Springs holds only good memories for me. Today piled on some more with majestic views, clear blue skies, and crisp cool weather, add to that an overall acceptance and gratitude of life.
Dry creek bed crossing:
Holding onto my cap as the wind tries to take it:
Pure beauty:
Climbing:
I didn’t stress about pace. I didn’t stress about my problems. I didn’t stress about anything. I simply worked. And it felt great to work hard. The weather warmed slightly. I warmed quicker and stripped off the warm clothing by mile five. But I never felt over-heated. Everything was PERFECT.
I ended a chillin’ week by “leading” this month’s New Member run for The OCTR (Orange County Trail Runners). I put “leading” in quotes because I didn’t really lead it. I more liked organized it and then showed up. The runners who attended were much too fast for me to “lead.” Fortunately, my good running friend, Michael, showed. He took it easy and kept me company as we covered some of the cool trails, of you guessed it, Aliso/Wood Canyons.
I’m taking a break, but I haven’t stopped running trails. For now, I’m going for the short runs (short being less than 10 miles). No big adventures planned for the immediate future. The past couple months I had been contemplating a 50k for December. That’s off the table now. November, I’m chillin’ and having some fun on the run. December, I’ll kick it up a notch for Calico in January. For now, I have some re-evaluating and resting up to do.
Greetings on a warm November morning at Top of the World:
I’ve written often about my feet. Obviously, feet are extremely important to me : ). Recently, I wrote much about my Plantar Fasciitis bout. But even more recently, I’ve mentioned something called a neuroma. And I don’t think I’ve ever gone into what’s up with that (though my friends and family know something about it!).
A neuroma is when one of my foot nerves rubs against my toe bones. It hurts. An old neuroma hurts more than a newer one. It’s a burning feeling, literally like my second and third toes are on fire. It also tingles, as if a thousand tiny needles are poking into my toes.
Ten years ago, the neuroma in my left foot was so painful, I had to quit exercising. I wasn’t a runner then but I was still active. I received cortisone shots that left me unable to even walk well for a week. The shots helped some after the initial week. My doctors however, would only give me 3 shots a year. I got custom made orthotics that did nothing to relieve the pain.
Finally, I had that nerve in my left foot surgically removed. Recovery was extremely slow. For YEARS my “surgery” foot just didn’t feel right. By the time my surgery foot finally felt normal, I was a runner. Meanwhile, the neuroma in my right foot began to worsen. I flat out declined cortisone shots and surgery. I had more orthotics made, that again did nothing to relieve the pain. Meditation worked for a while. Massaging never worked. Then one day, my husband mentioned that I should stop by a “foot” store up the street called “The Good Feet Store.” I was about to run my very first race, a 5k turkey trot. I was pretty desperate to relieve the pain. So into the store I went. Three hundred dollars later, I had an extreme pair of non-custom orthotics. For many years these orthotics have been my saving grace. But now and then, especially when I’m carrying extra weight, the pain returns. I merely run through it. I just can’t put myself through the surgery again, nor do I want the cortisone shots.
Today, I got out for a short run, and didn’t feel even an inkling of neuroma pain. It comes and goes like that. And so I will continue to deal with it, try to drop some pounds and enjoy the beautiful trails with a nerve rubbing against my toe bones.
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).
