Winter Solstice 2013

It’s been a while since I got out under darkness.  Finally did it on the Winter Solstice, the first day of winter.  Boy was it cold!  Southern California cold though, quite bearable indeed. 

As Christmas approaches, I am falling behind on keeping up my blog.  And it seems that all the profound things I wanted to write about this run have flittered away.  Onward nonetheless:  I drove that bumpy, muddy, rocky canyon rode to the Holy Jim lot as the sun began to peer above the horizon.  By the time I arrived, the lot was practically full with trucks like mine.  (The drive from my house takes one hour – thirty minutes of highways and streets, then the last five miles of off-road takes another 25 to 30 minutes)

When I set off on this run up Holy Jim Trail, my right foot felt perfectly fine.  In fact, both feet felt exactly the same, as if I had no injury.  Bliss.  I was able to really take in the trail’s beauty.  And I began to think that perhaps there was an upside to having this injury – I have really been missing the trails, and being away has made my heart grow fonder.

Holy Jim’s Beauty:

About 2 miles up, the beanie comes off!

After mile three, the pack comes off so that I can take off the long sleeves.  I’m warm enough!

My foot began to ache as I ran along The Main Divide.  Fortunately, I had chosen the “short loop” for this mountain run (14.5 miles).  The only really bad thing about my route was that it ended on a rocky, rocky downhill.  Did I ever pay!  Running down Horsethief was excruciating. Trabuco, though not as steep, was no better.  It was beautiful with leaf litter, but still rocky as heck.  At mile 11, I was truly amazed how much pain radiated from my foot after beginning this run with no pain whatsoever.  I wasn’t really angry about the pain.  I was more angry that I chose a downhill rocky route for the end of this Winter Solstice run.  I kept tell myself, “When you reach mile 13, you can hike.”  MILE 13 COULD NOT COME FAST ENOUGH.  But I continued running anyway, just to get there faster.  At mile 13, I walked the remaining distance in to my truck.  A group of mountain bikers offered me beer to ease my pain .  I declined, stretched the heck out of my foot and took two ibuprofen in the truck. 

Again, despite the wretched injury returning, I still enjoyed the immense beauty on this trip.  And I am happy to report, that my foot feels much, much better today.

The Main Divide:

West Horsethief:

Trabuco Trail:

Easy Seven

Finally, it was time to slow down.  Slow down life that is, and get in some trails.  I’ve been working practically non-stop (substitute teaching and putting together the brochure cover for the district’s Adult School).  And I finally mailed our out-of-state Christmas packages (to Missouri, Texas, and England).  This morning the boys were off to their last day of school before the long winter break (17 days!), and I had some free time (even after running several errands). 

I was cold.  The trails were muddy.  The skies were blue.  The creeks were full.  And I didn’t fall  in the water once.  Not once.  But I did fall during this easy seven miles.  The story’s stupid really.  I slipped in a cement drainage ditch and slid down smack into the pavement.  In a split second I landed on my rear, my palms slammed to the ground, and then I made impact with my back.  Fortunately, my back was cushioned by the water in my pack.  Funny, I wasn’t even going to wear a pack because I wasn’t sure how many miles I would run.  Anyway, the entire trip was beautiful.  Even the fall (or rather slip). 

Tijeras Creek Trail:

Tijeras Creek Crossing:

Did it without getting my feet wet:

Arroyo Trabuco Trail:

Bald Peak (or Lauren-on-the-Run meets HikinJim)

I dreamt I was running (as I frequently dream), but this time on dusty, desolate mountain trails.  There were no trees, only shrubs.  And as I ran downhill, I noticed an enormous sign, 70’s era, Las Vegas style sign, without the brilliant lights,  that read, “Iran. Eastern Border.”  (Looking at a map after the fact, I believe that I was in Pakistan.)  Anyway, I slowed my pace, fearful of that border, then noticed a lion up a ways.  He was a dark colored lion, like Scar in The Lion King.  Stricken with fear, I slowly walked backward away from the creature, until he noticed me.  That’s when I ran, still with my face toward the animal.  As I ran backward rather quickly, he took off after me, and I thought, “I just may be dreaming.”  And so I screamed, “WAKE UP!  WAKE UP!!!”  And I woke, so thankful that I was right.

Back to reality – Saturday, I slept in longer than I planned.  I am changing, that’s for sure.  In the past when I overslept, I usually skipped my run.  Saturday, I finally woke at 7:00 AM and was leisurely out the door by 8:00.  Even with a late start, I drove to Silverado Canyon in hopes of running to Bald Peak (a minor peak that I have not yet explored). 

My foot felt really good.  So, I felt paranoid about ruining my progress by running the first 3 1/2 miles of Maple Springs road, which is asphalt.  And so, I did something I’ve never done.  I can’t believe I never thought of it before.  Get this:  I DROVE that single lane asphalt road (single lane as in, room enough for one car) cautiously all the way to where the asphalt ends. 

I took off on a dirt truck trail in the blustery wind, delighted by the millions of leaves fluttering as if applauding the gorgeous day.  My right foot felt PERFECTLY normal.  I’m telling you, no pain whatsoever.  I could not have been more thrilled. 

I came upon several motorcyclists making their way up (4 or 5) and a couple coming down as I headed up toward “Four Corners.” 

A couple mountain bikers passed me as well.  But the mountains were still relatively quiet, except for the leaves clapping in the wind.  More than once I had to chase down my hat when the wind blew it off my head.  Finally, I decided to turn my cap around.  That way the wind couldn’t easily come up beneath the bill and blow it away. 

I made it to “Four Corners” in no time (being that I drove the first 3+ miles of the 7 mile trip).  “Four Corners” is named so, because it is the junction of 4 routes.  1)  Maple Springs Road, 2) The Main Divide, toward Modjeska Peak, 3) Harding Truck Trail, and lastly, 3) The Main Divide heading back toward Silverado.  I ventured on back toward Silverado in my hunt for Bald Peak. 

The hunt was actually quite easy, as one peak stood out vastly among the other shorter peaks.  And there appeared, from the distance, to be a road up to the peak.  When I arrived, I saw that the road was not really a road anymore, but more a grown in, thorny, low-lying brush area, leading up to the peak.  I marched up it, found my peak, ate my breakfast, took a couple pictures of the view, and ran back down to The Main Divide with scratched up legs (but without any blood).

A view from Bald Peak:

My downhill proved tougher for The Foot.  Four wheeled vehicles began making their way up the mountain.  Some of them drove ridiculously fast.   The motorcyclists, mountain bikers and dirt bikers all carried on with polite protocol, nodding or waving as they passed.  Most of the vehicle drivers behaved well too.  There were a few though . . . grrrrrr. 

With about three miles remaining, I came upon a hiker and his young daughter.  Having just moved into the area, he had a question about the trails.  We chatted for a while.  I pointed out the peak I had come to visit.  Turns out, two fellow bloggers were meeting at this moment.  I don’t recall this ever happening to me before.  This Saturday, Lauren-on-the-Run met HikinJim, who blogs his adventures as well.  You can be sure, one of the first things I did when I finally returned home was to look up Jim’s blog.  I had to giggle to myself.  Here I was talking about my peak collecting, and it turns out, he does the same thing with his hiking – collects peak.  I have a lot to learn from HikinJim for sure.  And he has been to some doozy peaks (10,000’+). 

After leaving HikinJim and his daughter, pain began to set in.  My right foot hurt upon impact.  If I were to say that the toughest pain with this condition has been a “10,” Saturday, it was only a “4.”   Still, even with the pain, I was able to hit a ten minute pace here and there.  I wasn’t pushing speed.  I cared more about saving my foot. 

I ran over ten miles on Saturday – mountain miles.  That is a big deal for my foot.  I am hopeful.  Very hopeful. 

One last notable aspect of this surreal run:  I saw a a brown, furry mole scamper across my path as I drove Maple Springs Road back into town.  Now, I can appreciate just about anything – snakes, tarantulas, crazy-bizarre insects, but a mole!  It freaked me out a little.  I’ve never seen one in person , and it didn’t set well with me.  Let’s just say that I didn’t appreciate its beauty. 

Back-to-Back At Last

Tuesday I made it out to the trails for my first back-to-back run in a long time.  This was not entirely by choice.  With two substitute teaching assignments on the horizon (Wednesday & Thursday), I knew I would not be able to run again until the end of the week.  So, off to the coastal hills I ventured. 

Was it cold?  Well, not freezing.  But it was too dang cold to grasp a water bottle filled with ice water.  (Why do I fill my handheld with icy water during the winter?  I have no clue!):

The skies were beautiful and big:

The hills were rolling and felt good:

And I warmed up good by the time I reached Top of the World (overlooking Laguna Beach, CA):

In Alta Laguna Park stretching the plantar fascia for the downhills on the way back (down hills cause the most trouble for me right now):

Total miles run:  6.5  On the plus, plus, plus side, I was able to run all the way in.  No need to do a walk/run for the last bit.  I worked on my foot the rest of the day, stretching, icing, etc.  This morning though, instead of using the walls to hold myself up as I walked out of our bedroom, I dropped to the floor and crawled out. 

Joy and Pain, Sometimes a Necessary Combo

Got 10.79 trail miles in today (with 2,177 feet of elevation gain).  Objective met.   I felt the joy of the trails, during which I snuck up on 2 buck.  One of them stared me down until I got so spooked that I went on my way without looking back (Not really, I did look back to catch one more picture – but the good news is that I did not turn into a pillar of salt).

The misery of Mentally Sensitive was absolutely delightful.  And upon reaching the top, I bushwhacked my way to a secret club house dug out in the brush.  The place is fairly new, and I’ve never had the opportunity to meet the creators of this secret meeting place.  I took a seat on the skateboard nailed into the roots beneath a tree and made a little monument out of sticks and an empty bottle of saki I found strewn to the side. 

I experienced great aggravation over the fact that I could not take the pain to increase my speed to my normal slow speed.  I tried not to think about such things, and it was during those thoughtless times that I experienced the most joy. 

The last mile and a half in, I needed to switch off running and walking.  By the time I reached my car, I really, really wanted to cry.  But I did not.  Instead, I went home and iced, then stretched, then applied heat, not to be complete without a scolding from my husband who argued  I should give up some things and get to the doctor ASAP.  He almost convinced me. 

I will say that I did take some precautions on this morning’s run by stopping often to take in the beauty.   And this camera happy person took that time to complete a photo diary of my run.

Leaf Litter at the Ranger Station:

Broken up ice on Aliso Creek Trail:

Taking off down Aliso Creek Trail on this Brrrrrr, cold morning:

True Love :

Looking back on Buck #2:

Climbing Mentally Sensitive:

Swing Break in Moulton Park:

Top of the World:

Sugarloaf Peak

27 Days passed without running, without TRAILS.  And it was during this time that I discovered how mentally weak I was (more so than I realized).  And that made me sad.  And it made angry, and touchy, and I felt like I was plummeting downward, like any mental strength that I thought I had was a façade.  I felt my house of cards had collapsed. 

I worked at healing my foot because I thought this was my only saving grace.  But the foot got better, then it got worse.  Part of the day I could walk, the other I could not.  And then one day, I cried and cried and cried, and told myself that I had to buck up, that I needed to be strong whether or not I could hit the trails.  After that, I began to rebound.  I tried to smile more.  I kept negativity off my lips and tried to push it out of my mind.  I kept my self busy.  I ate better.  I kept my cups of coffee to one, and my glasses of wine to none.  During this time, while limping about the grocery store parking lot, I turned to the man in the wheelchair behind me.  His right leg was raised, and so I asked, “What did you do to your leg?”

He said, “Nothing.  I fell off my bike, landed on my face and cracked my skull in three places.  I was in a coma for six weeks.” 

Yikes.  What if he can never ride a bike again?  After chatting for several minutes, I realized that he would do fine without the bike.  Just like I would do fine without trails.  Either way, I just had to “be.”  “It is what it is,” as we always say in my home.  (My husband brought that saying into our home.  Another thing he has passed on is, “Embrace the suck!”)

HOWEVER, I do love the trails.  And I’m aiming to get back to them, even if just for a “test drive.”  Finally, I did that yesterday.  After I dropped the boys off at school, I drove an hour up the mountain for a short run to Sugarloaf Peak.  The mountains were cold, the skies full of voluminous clouds.  I fell no less than five times – that’s right, at least five times.  I tripped frequently.  And once as I ran through the trees I said out loud, “Please Mr. Tree, don’t poke me in the head.”  Then one of their branches promptly poked me in the head.  By time my run was finished, my calves were bleeding and scratched up.  By the time my run was finished, I also summited Sugarloaf Peak which was pretty dang fun, that kind of hellish fun.  The climb to the peak was so steep, I fell back several feet more than once.  Some parts, I needed to scramble on all fours.  When I finally reached the summit, I saw the only two people I would see during the entire run.  I waved to them as they rested below on a rock that’s named Cocktail Rock. 

Old San Juan Trail:

Summiting:

In all, I ran a little less than eight miles.  Those last few miles were pretty dang miserable, and I needed to hike frequently.  As usual, the tranquil loneliness, the rocky terrain, the enormous skies made everything well worth it.  I love the trails.