Found It!

I woke this morning at 6 AM, especially tired.  But this was not reason enough to skip my run.  Acceptable reasons to skip this morning’s trails:  broken leg, broken foot, family emergency.  I had a feeling I’d wake up enough for a short run by the time I finished morning chores (getting the boys off to school).

As it was, I did wake up some.  By the time I hit the trails, the skies were still gray and cold.  I didn’t let that fool me.  This time I left the long sleeves at home. 

I had planned on my usual short run, an out-and-back to Top of the World.  On a whim, I decided to extend this run just a tad to search out an old car wreck.  A friend sent me a picture a while back of a blue, bullet-ridden car in the overgrown brush, somewhere off of Lynx.  Last time I ran up Lynx, I couldn’t find the car.  This morning, instead of running back into the canyon via Cholla Trail, I decided to take Lynx and look around some more for this mysterious car.  The weather had by the way, warmed up extensively by then. 

West Ridge on the way to Top of the World, the better trail here is the road less travelled:

Top of the World – always a triumph:

Lynx is a particularly beautiful trail, quite rocky and technical.  I don’t really know why I don’t run it often.  I suppose it’s because Lynx doesn’t add to a nice clean loop.  Though a difficult trail, it’s not the most difficult in these canyons.  And it’s a perfect trail to practice fast downhill technical running.  The trail’s not so thin, that a fall would throw me off the edge. 

Lynx Trail:

Well, I ran down Lynx searching the canyon views for the blue car.  Nothing.  I did spot a trail off in the distance, at the bottom, closer to the opposite canyon wall.  That triggered my search for anything that looked like a trail leading off my edge of the canyon wall.  The first spot of dirt that could have been a trail ended at a sharp drop off.  Down below, I saw nothing but canyon.  The second dirt section that could have been a trail, lead me to an even steeper drop off.  No blue car.  And the trail that I thought I saw at the canyon’s bottom, disappeared.  I figured I’d probably find a trail at the bottom of Lynx that lead into the canyon.  That’s where the car probably laid. 

Before reaching the end, I took one last dirt area that could have been a trail.  It stopped also at a steep drop off.  There was no getting down this edge, that’s for sure.  But lo and behold . . . deep down in the canyon, practically buried by brush, was the bullet-ridden blue car!  I found it! 

See it?

Look closer . . .

Ahh, the thrill of discovery. 

Overdressed (again)

I felt too worn out to run trails this morning.  But I know that I can’t run three days this week due to other obligations.  So, I HAD TO run this morning if I wanted four running days.  Believe me.  I would have much rather gone back to sleep after I made the boys breakfast and lunches, and drove them off to school.  Actually, I would have much rather stayed in bed to begin with and lazily got up, say around 11 AM. 

We were socked in this morning in our seaside town. The breeze was cool, the air damp.  I put on a long sleeved running shirt, filled a handheld and out the door I went for a drive to Aliso/Wood Canyons. 

My run began beneath gray cool skies.  My trot was slow, but deliberate.  I passed two coyotes as they meandered through the dry grass alongside my single-track trail. 

Quick stop in Wood Canyon to stretch tight shins:

Barely a half mile passed running through the dry, yet lovely golden meadows on Meadows Trail, when the sun popped out from the clouds.  Suddenly the sky was blue, and my shirt dripped sweat.  Yup, overdressed again.  I turned my hat around and I begun to think that perhaps a handheld wasn’t the best idea for today’s ten mile loop.  (I turn my hat around because the rim traps heat in around my face, and I hate that). 

A little heat won’t hurt me though, especially dry heat.  As long as I’m not lost and I have access to water, I know I’m okay.  And there’s places with drinking fountains that I know of along the ridge.  But first, there was getting to the ridge.  Of which I, in my infinite wisdom chose the steepest hill (why?  because it’s the steepest hill) to get there. 

Climbing Mentally Sensitive was a bear as usual.  I had to fight against conserving water.  It’s almost a natural inclination when fluids are limited.  I’ve found though that it’s never a good idea to conserve water when I need it.   

A typical step up Mentally Sensitive:

And isn’t it all worth it? (View from Mentally Sensitive):

At the ridge, I debated running the next mile or so to Alta Laguna Park at The Top of the World with about a 1/4 filled handheld.  There was a closer fountain, but I’d have to backtrack to get to it.  I don’t like backtracking.  “I can do it,” I thought.  “It’s only about a mile.”  This is what heat does to a person – it makes you stupid.  But I hadn’t gone completely overboard as the salt dripped down into my eyes.  I told myself, “Don’t be a fool!  How many times do you have to learn?  REFILL.”  And so I ran in the opposite direction into Moulton Park to refill my handheld.  Good thing too.  I drank all of it during that short mile to the next fountain. 

After reaching Top of the World and refilling again, I took the ridge to Mathis Trail for a long downhill trip on an exposed trail with absolutely no shade at all.  By now I would have ripped off my long sleeves and ran in my running bra if I wasn’t so dang modest.  Note to self:  It’s practically summertime.  Time to layer!

In all, these ten miles were a true delight.  (Despite my sleepy sarcasm.  It’s SO past my bedtime). 

Running down Mathis into Wood Canyon:

The Profile:  (Yikes!  Actually, not as bad as it looks):

Mmmmm . . . Candy!

This morning I woke at the ridiculous hour of 4AM.  Why?  So that I could drive an hour into the mountains and run The Candy Store run as the sun rose.  The drive up the windy mountain was uneventful as car after car raced down in the opposite direction from Riverside county, to jobs in Orange County.  I parked in lower Blue Jay Campground.  Tents were erected through out the grounds, but not a person stirred.  It seemed also that not a creature stirred. 

I took off on the same rocky trail that we took off on in Old Goat 50.  The skies were cloudy.  And as I descended down the mountain, I heard child screams and laughter coming from a campground above.  I felt like I was making slow time, yet I felt good.  I didn’t tape my arches, nor did I roll my shins beforehand.  I wound down the trail and made the first point of interest (the Chiquito / San Juan intersection) in about 37 minutes.  I consider 45 minutes very decent time for me.  I didn’t want to care about time on this run.  I wanted to enjoy.  Still, I couldn’t help but celebrate a tad.

I continued on San Juan Trail, which was shady and lush, climbing up toward the Viejo Tie.  Ear phones dangling around my shoulder and not in my ears, I desired complete awareness of my surroundings.  The trails were desolate.  I was completely alone, except for what lurked out there in the forest.  I felt relieved when I hit exposed trail because I had a better grasp on my surroundings. 

Memories from Old Goat flooded my mind as I ran.  I recalled where I fell.  I recalled when I passed, when I was passed.  The Tie went by very quickly, especially compared to the first time I ran it.  Still, I felt like I moved slower than I did during Old Goat.  Yet, I made the Chiquito intersection in about 50 minutes (1 hour is VERY decent for me).  Again, I felt accomplished.  So relaxed was I, the trails’ technical difficulty didn’t throw me.

I ran in and out of shady lush forest, on overgrown single track for the next few miles.  My mind wandered to all the things I needed to do (grade papers, make calls, pay bills, organize, organize, organize).  I thought a lot about our dying friend.  I told myself, “Don’t think!  Don’t think!”  I found this quite difficult.  That is until I told myself to do just one thing today:  call the hospice.  With that one thing resolved, I was finally able to empty my mind.

  The Viejo Tie (Or San Juan Trail just before the split):

The poison oak on Chiquito was unavoidable.  Even though I have been immune to the plant’s poison, I’ve heard that immunity doesn’t last forever. I’ve run through the stuff head-to-toe before with no consequences (knock on wood!).  This morning, I occasionally stepped aside from a bush.  But then my thigh would brush against several leaves.  Eventually, I realized it was useless.  There was no escaping the plant.

Chiquito Trail (notice the poison oak on the forest floor):

“The Candy Store Run” is approximately twenty miles, mainly downhill from Blue Jay to The Candy Store, mainly uphill on the way back.    Beginning this run at The Candy Store rather than Blue Jay, is the much easier way to go because you run the harder part on strong legs.  Both ways are long.  Both ways are lovely.  But I wanted hard.  Excruciating in fact.  This is why I began on the mainly downhill for an uphill climb on tired legs. 

I passed Chiquito Falls still feeling strong, feeling like I’d make The Candy Store in under 3 hours.  Then a funny thing happened on the way to the store.  I saw another person running up from the other way.  He wore all black, just as I did.  He didn’t startle me.  I could distinguish that he was a trail runner by the two handhelds.  But who? 

Why, this other runner was my friend John H.!!  I laughed out loud.  I mean, what are the chances that I’d come across someone I know?  We stopped and chatted for a good amount of time, laughing over the things we put our trucks through and how we both stash water in the mountains.  We talked about Old Goat (John was a sweeper who swept my friend, Emmett).  As we chatted, he helped put my mind at ease over finishing a fifty miler.  John seems quite “laid back” about running, whereas I tend to tense up.  Anyway, I didn’t worry about making The Candy Store in under 3 hours anymore.  It’s not often I get to talk trails and laugh out in the middle of nowhere with a friend. 

But then, I was off running again; John was off running again as well, in opposite directions. 

Out portion of the run, it’s still cool enough for my long sleeves:

Views of The Cleveland National Forest on my way down:

A quick glimpse of the many spring flowers along the way:

Toward the end of the out portion, I came upon a couple hiking groups.  One man looked at me as though I was crazy.  Another gasped, “Running?”  At the giant fallen tree, decomposing for years, I began my climb up to the parking lot.  The sun was out in vengeance.  The climb was difficult.  I finally ran into the parking lot in over three hours.  Across the street, The Candy Store was probably still closed (unless they sell donuts for breakfast).  I didn’t run across the highway to check, though I do love candy.  Instead, I ran over to my water stash in the brush.  After refilling, I set out for the return trip beneath an unrelenting sun.

Running back on the San Juan Loop, toward Chiquito Trail for the climb up:

It came as no surprise that the climb back out toward Chiquito Falls was miserable.  But it was a lovely miserable.  I climbed over boulders.  I ran the uphills in the shade.  Sometimes on exposed trails, I hiked.  I passed more hikers, some in small groups, some with walking sticks. 

Excruciating is a great word for the back portion of this run.  Much of it, before Chiquito Falls, is exposed, hot and rocky.  Tiny gnats swarmed my face.  But despite this, I still felt good.  No major aches or pains.  At one point, about half way, I heard the pounding of fast running.  Disoriented some, I was startled, thinking someone was running up on me from behind.  Turns out, it was John.  He wasn’t behind me.  He was in front of me.  We spoke briefly as I stumbled up the boulders.  Except for the last climb up to the parking lot, he had mainly downhill to look forward to, whereas I was looking at several more uphill miles.  Doh!

A big rock on Chiquito:

A simple view of the climb out:

Sleeves off, it’s now HOT, and I’m greatly looking forward to San Juan Trail because that means I’ve only got a few miles to go:

I came upon cyclists on the way out.  I gave directions to a father and son.  I could have cut the course short on a few occasions.  But I decided to sweat it out.  A cool breeze blew through the trees.  And though I felt fatigued, and pretty miserable, it was the good kind of miserable.  Seriously.  There is a good kind of miserable – it’s the kind of miserable when a difficult, yet gorgeous run is nearly over. 

Today’s elevation profile:

From above:

The Road to The Top of the World

This morning I took another journey to Top of the World in Laguna Beach.  How many times have I made that trip?  I can’t say.  I can say that it’s never terrible, even the hardest portions.  And the prize is such a delight – a grand view of the Pacific Ocean, The Saddleback Mountains and The San Gabriels. 

This morning the weather was cool and gray, even slightly damp.  I came upon several hikers on West Ridge, some cyclists and countless bluish lizards doing push-ups in the dirt.  The road to Top of the World is never boring.  Today, I was practically in a trance when I noticed that what I thought was a branch sticking out of the dirt was really a gopher.  At times deer roam the road.  Once I saw a bobcat run across it.  Several rattlers have made themselves known to me on the way to Top of the World.  But, not today.  The weather was just too cool for rattlers to stretch out across the road.  Sometimes I reach the top and there’s so many people, it’s like a party.  Today, I was the only person.  And that is sometimes a joy.  Like it was today. 

The Road to Top of the World:

Made it!

Thirteen Miles of HOT, Joyful HOT

I couldn’t believe the large number of cars parked at Aliso Wood Canyons this morning.  Yet, in over thirteen miles of trails, I saw only three or four other people.  Where were all the others?  Perhaps they were picnicking in the meadows.  I don’t think so.  The meadows have now turned brown.  Maybe they were breaking the rules and going off trail.  Nah.  I think most of the visitors found a good spot of shade.  It was HOT today.  A lovely, dry hot.  But then, every so often I was awarded a nice cool breeze.  Beautiful.

Stretching ever-so-slightly tight calves and shins about two miles in: 

A long, lonely path through the meadow on my way to the big Climb:

The Big Climb:

Top of the World:

Wood Canyon:

The Profile:

Into the Wild / Limestone Canyon 20k

Recently, I decided I need to run a short race.  Short?  What I mean is, a race that’s shorter than I’ve run lately.  I don’t think “short” means easier.  The race I picked in fact has a great deal of elevation gain for the number of miles.  I thought “short” would help me pick up my pace.  I also wanted a race that I could actually finish.   After a quick search, I read that Limestone Canyon 20K didn’t “technically” have a time limit.  Into the Wild even posted something like, “you will have ample time, even if you have to walk.”  Well, this was my race!!

Limestone Canyon is a protected area in the Santa Ana Mountains that we can only gain access through the Irvine Conservancy, or through special events.  I’ve run Limestone Canyon before, with a docent from the Irvine Conservancy.  So, I knew the trails were no walk in the park.  This was my first Into the Wild race. 

Into the Wild put on two events today:  a 12k and a 20k.  When I learned that the vast majority of the runners were running the 12k, and only a handful were running the 20k (37 runners according to the results page), I knew I was going to be running by myself, perhaps coming in DFL.  I’m already a back of the pack runner on the trails.  You put me in a race with hundreds or thousands of runners, I can come in around the middle of the field.  A race with around a hundred, or even worse, less than 50, I’m going to struggle handing off the honorable DFL.

I’ll tell you one thing for sure.  Those 20k runners, they kicked ass!  My marathon plus pace CANNOT keep up with these runners.  They take off fast.  And they don’t seem to slow down. 

We took off on fire road and quickly made it to a single track and a steep uphill, and then more steep uphills.  The trail was exposed and quite warm.  I felt okay, happy to be on the run.  Shins felt good.  Arches taped, my feet felt strong.  I remained with a crowd for some miles, actually up until the 12k runners split from us 20kers (around mile 4.5).  At that point, one woman ran a short ways ahead, and past her I could see another woman.  With all the twists and turns in the trails, I couldn’t see any other runners for quite some time.

Traffic Jam:

The field spreads out:

Finally, after about 6 miles, I headed down.  For a bit, the trail was technical, single track.  But then it turned to gorgeous fire road in and out of trees with lush canopies.  Occasionally, I spotted two runners off ahead.  But I was never close to catching them.  I resolved to keep running strong.  But I also resolved that I would be taking the honorable DFL. 

And then the trail began to climb slightly.  Through the trees, I could see one runner up a ways.  She was hiking the slight inclines, but she was still far enough away that I couldn’t catch her.  Onward I ran in the sweltering heat through the lovely valleys. 

Approaching Aid #2:

Then I lost her, the other runner.  I always lost her on the downhills.  But then we began a climb at about mile 8.5.  Suddenly the woman appeared not too far ahead of me.  She was actually within reaching distance.  As she hiked up that climb I gave it all I had and RAN up the hill.  I tried to run quietly so that she wouldn’t realize that I was gaining on her.  It took me a good half mile to come up directly behind her.  Just when I could have collapsed, I passed her and handed off the honorable DFL, at least for now.

She smiled and said, “Hi!”  I smiled as well, then commented awkwardly about the scorching heat.  With a downhill quickly approaching, I knew that I needed to gun it to keep my lead.  Strategic thoughts ran through my head on how to keep this lead for 3 1/2 miles.  Don’t look back, I told myself.  Don’t let up! 

I did look back.  She was no where in sight.  I knew though, I could not let up.  If I was going to stay away from the honorable DFL, I had to push hard.  If not, I was certain that she would pass me on the downhill. 

Well, I broke my rule about looking back, and looked back frequently.  Occasionally, she gained on me.  And I pushed onward as quickly as I could, even though I felt I couldn’t take another step.  I began to think that it would have been better to pass her with only a mile left.  Keeping the lead for 3 1/2 miles was almost too much to bear.  I couldn’t let up for 3 1/2 miles!!!!!  I told myself that if this is her usual distance, then I’ve got her.  I can put up with pure hell misery running for hours and hours.  This was my only advantage.  Speed was not my advantage.  Endurance was.  I kept running, while she hiked the uphills and flats.  How do I know this?  BECAUSE I KEPT LOOKING BACK! 

As I approached Aid #3, I saw another female runner sitting in the shade.  As soon as she saw me, she stood and ran onward in a rush.  I could see another runner, a male, not too far ahead of her.  I ran straight past Aid #3 without stopping.  And I believe the woman behind me did the same.  She was gaining on me!!!

I constantly looked at my garmin.  I was so fatigued, I needed badly to let up (that is take it easy for a bit).  Finally, in the last half mile, I looked back and didn’t see my pursuer.  Still, I didn’t trust that.  I gunned it in to the finish line, placing 36 out of 37 runners. 

Mama Mia!  I think “short” runs are much harder than the long distances. 

Though I hung around a bit at the staging area, I didn’t see the woman who came in behind me.  We must have been parked in different lots.  I would have liked to throw her a smile and thank her for a dang hard run race. 

As far as Into the Wild as a race event goes, I do recommend them.  The race directors, husband and wife, are friendly and organized.  They supplied plenty of fuel and fluids.  I also got a nice shirt and even a finisher’s medal.  My only critique is that their aid stations were not evenly spaced.  Aid number 3 was only about a mile away from the finish.  Most of the runners (oddly) did not carry water.  They definitely would have needed water before the last aid.  I think in a 20k, aid should be as close as possible to every 5 kilometers. 

Oh!  One more thing.  I placed first in my category (gender/age) group!  Muhahahaha.