Seven Sure-Fire Ways to Kill your Camera

I put another camera to rest, in a bag of rice actually, with the hope that it may start working again.  This camera was the first one that lasted past the extended warranty that I always purchase.  Alas, I will not be purchasing another camera soon.  But I do of course, have my phone (It somehow survived a full water submerge.)  And even the little, inexpensive, old-fashioned cell phones have cameras.  And therefore did I during this morning’s run.   

Still, a phone is just not the same.  I don’t care what anyone says.  I love my camera-cameras.  And as I ran through Aliso Wood Canyons today, opting to run up Meadows for the first time in a long time, I began to reminisce about my old cameras.  I enjoyed them all; they were all great cameras.  And as I ran up and down those wretched hills,  I recalled each of their destructions and came up with a list of ways I’ve accidentally killed my cameras.  Each of the methods below, I know firsthand will do the trick (but just to be sure, it always helps to have the lens open, especially for drops – lenses go very easily)

MY SEVEN SURE-FIRE WAYS TO KILL YOUR CAMERA:

1. SLAM your camera into a boulder.
2. Throw your camera off a cliff.
3. Underhand toss your camera down a dirt trail.
4. Fully submerge yourself with camera in hand, into a pool of water
5. Set your camera on a boulder so that the wind can blow it off and knock it to the ground (this one particularly, works best when the lens is open).
6. Keep your camera in a mesh pocket during a rain downpour.
7. And lastly, merely drop it to the ground (again, remember lens open). 

Sure, I missed a lot of photo-ops on my run today.  I ran within a few feet of a blue heron.  Then watched it fly away with its enormous wingspan.  But I’ve snapped that picture before – dozens of times.  In fact, I’ve probably taken thousands of pictures on Aliso/Wood Wilderness trails.  Running without a “legit” camera freed me some today.  This helped me focus on my run more intently.  Still today, I indulged a little during my 11.46 miles of trail running.  I guess I’m just a photo junkie. 

Climbing Meadows:

Top of Meadows:

Top of the World:

Mission Unaccomplished

First mission unaccomplished was my original plan to wake at the crack of dawn and go for a mountain run.  I did wake at the crack of dawn (actually before dawn).  I could not however, walk due to the pain in my foot.  I pushed myself from wall to wall to move about the house.  Even though I knew my foot would probably get better (it’s always the worst when I wake), this disheartened trail runner went back to sleep.

I woke again several hours later feeling way, way down in the dumps.

I didn’t have a good morning.

I didn’t have a great early afternoon.

Eventually, I laced up my shoes and ran out the door for a run along some of our beaches.  Yes, that’s right.  I opted for sidewalk and sand over dirt trails.  I felt a bit sluggish but enjoyed my time running the city streets.  One thing I noticed was that it was LOUD with all sorts of noises:  car motors, people talking, dogs barking.  But it was also beautiful.  I live in a gorgeous city.

 Beach Access:

Even though I see the Pacific Ocean every day, catching first glimpse of white water at Salt Creek Beach on my run this afternoon was breathtaking. 

After running Salt Creek’s crowded sand, I turned the corner for a run along Dana Strands.  Off in the distance I focused on the headlands, Dana Point’s famous headlands.  I’ve run on top of them, I’ve near and around them on both sides.  But it’s been a long, long time since I’ve gone around them.  It’s a daunting task, and probably shouldn’t be done alone.  The rocks are steep and jagged, and the way is very slippery.  On the plus side, there’s a private little beach where I could get my quiet solitude that I missed from trails.  I was game and a little giddy about it!  The tide seemed low enough to make it.  And I figured I’d be okay because I’d climb carefully and would certainly turn back if the tide was too high.

The Headlands:

Making my way along the base, prepared and confident for my first climb:

The First Big Climb (not so difficult, but slippery and a fall could mean a plunge into the ocean):

After making that first climb, this is where I stood – absolute bliss:

The front base of the headlands was numerous with tide pools as I remembered.  Occasionally, a wave crashed up on the plateau as I made my way across.  The work was difficult, as I needed to use both lower and upper body strength to make my way up and down the sharp boulders. 

With a water bottle in one hand, I clicked the camera in my other.  My private beach was now in view when I stopped for a few last pictures before descending down the plateau’s rocky edge.  I jumped that last step, as it was too far down to reach.  When I landed I took another step (I think) and then I don’t know what happened.  I remember realizing that I was losing my balance, and then I went down, down as in tumbled down over the sharp, jagged rocks.  My knee, my arm, my shin, they all took terrible hits.  Then on the last tumble, I flew right down into a gigantic tide pool.  I went under, fully submerged, taking my camera and phone with me and a big gulp of salt water. 

In utter disbelief, I quickly jumped out.  I stood there with my sopping wet camera in my hand and cried.  Blood streamed from a gash in my right shin.  My right knee as well ached with a minor scrape revealing itself right away.  And my right arm, specifically my elbow was bleeding.  I was most worried about my camera.

Okay, take control, Lauren.  That’s what I told myself.  I stopped crying and decided that I should not continue the journey.  I chose to carefully make my way back and call my husband for a ride home.  That is what I did.  Back at home, he cleaned me up, disinfected beneath the torn pieces of flesh on my elbow and arm. 

I didn’t break any bones.  I have worn my right arm in a sling all night.  The arm is swollen and ugly.  Ibuprofen did wonders.  So did a warm blanket.

These were two of the questions I got from my family:

My husband asked, “Were you scared?”  Funny, that’s one thing I wasn’t.  I never felt scared.  I felt surprised.  I felt sad.  And I felt angry.  And then finally relief.  But I never felt scared (too stupid to be scared ).

My middle son asked, “Did you almost drown?”  No, I didn’t come anywhere near drowning.  Even the gulp of seawater that I took in didn’t take my breath away.  Thank God I didn’t hit my head.  If I knocked myself out, there could have been much more dire consequences. 

Well, there you have it.  My missions unaccomplished today.  I did get in a 6.25 mile run.  So that is good.  My husband rescued me.  And that was good.  And I seemingly haven’t broken anything, and that is good.

Here’s one last picture, probably the last one I took.  Off in the distance is the private beach where I wanted to take in some silence.  My fall occurred probably about twenty five feet from my position.  It is beautiful, don’t you think?

Meg’s Miles

My run today is dedicated to Meg Cross Menzies a mother of three who was killed by a drunk driver while out for her morning run, on January 13 this year. She was only 34. Her friend created a facebook event called Meg’s Miles for people to run in her honor today.  Thousands of people hit the pavement and trails in memory of this lady who was loved by many. 

Meg Menzies (from the facebook page in her honor):

I ran 9.46 miles in honor of Meg this afternoon.  I felt very fortunate to have this time to run.  I am very fortunate in countless ways.

I haven’t been to Crystal Cove for ages, so I wasn’t sure when I set out if my loop was a five or nine mile loop.  Turns out this loop was nine miles, and I appreciated every drop of sweat during this hot winter afternoon.

God bless Meg’s family. 

Real or a Dream?

Some time ago, I can’t remember when, I heard about some remnants of a mining company that used to be located in Trabuco Canyon.  I completely forgot about it.  Then some time later, I can’t even remember when, perhaps a month ago, maybe 6, while driving through Trabuco Canyon, I caught a glimpse of stone ruins in the canyon wall.  Perhaps I was in a hurry, probably having just finished up a run.  I don’t recall.  But I never saw the ruins again.  Not that I looked for them.  I kind of thought I didn’t really see them.  I actually wondered if perhaps, I was dreaming, and no such ruins existed. 

Now it may seem odd that I might not be clear on whether something was a dream.  Believe me.  I have a vivid dream life.  I dream every night, and recall lots.  Often I need to think twice whether something was real or a dream.  Still, this morning, I decided to go for a run in search of the mining company.  Imaginary or real ruins, I wanted to know.

I drove the first three miles into the canyon.  I parked next to another parked car and set off up the canyon road with a warm wind blowing against my face.  I really had no idea where these ruins would stand, except for the fact that I knew they were after the 3 mile mark.  At least they were in my dream.  

I ran up the lonely canyon road, hair blowing in my face:

My eyes scoured the canyon wall to my left, and when I reached the Holy Jim Fire Department, I knew that I had either missed them, or the ruins did not exist.  In the Holy Jim lot, I ran down to the creek to wash my hands.  The creek was still, like a dark piece of glass reflecting the barren winter forest:

Off through the trees, I spied the two cabins that I read recently had burned to the ground.  It was a sad sight.  And it still smelled of smoldering fire:

Exploring the fire remains renewed my interest in searching out the mining company.  Careful to kick out the back and not drag my feet, I concentrated even harder on the canyon walls on my trip back.    I stopped for anything that looked unusual.  I did spot something deep within the trees.  After some bushwhacking and heavy stomping through foot deep leaf litter, I came upon this tree house:

Yes, I considered climbing up into this tree house, but moved onward instead, keeping on track with my original plans.  The brush grew thicker and the scratches on my legs multiplied when I decided to cross the creek back to the canyon road. 

Continuing to run, I found another spot to cross the creek:

I tromped through more brush and leaf litter when I eventually came upon a small foot path.  I ran that for a bit.  It took me up into a clearing, and off to the side, there they were!  The retaining walls of what looked like a three story building.  I worked up a good sweat confirming that these ruins were real and that I did not see them in my dreams.  

Passage way from first floor to second:

Looking down from third floor:

View from 3rd floor:

I LOVE it when I search out something in the wilderness and find it.  Turns out I found the remains of The Santa Ana Tin Mining Company (incorporated in 1901).  Funny thing, I located a road right out of there directly to the canyon road when I left.  Even funnier, directly across the creek, standing on the canyon road, I could not see even a hint of these ruins. 

Fun day running. (4.75 miles logged)

Training Begins

Today my training begins.  Ha!  For what, you may wonder.  For Twin Peaks, which isn’t until October 2014.  I need to start early because I have a LONG way to go.  (Twin Peaks is a 50 mile race with an ungodly amount of elevation gain, run in the local mountains.  If you have read my blog before, you may have read a word or two about the race ). 

My goal for the remainder of the winter (about 6 weeks left) is to get back running regularly.  In achieving this goal, I am determined to still get in my adventure runs.  I do not want to let go of the fun this time.  Lastly, I aim to rigorously continue physical therapy (ON A DAILY BASIS – when the foot improves I will not lighten up PT). 

Of course, beginning training today is too late for my upcoming 30k race.  I’m all right with this because all races I run before October will be training for the big one, Twin Peaks. 

Back to my first day of training.  It was not an adventure run.  Today’s run was an out-and-back on Arroyo Trabuco Trail in 85F degree weather (approx. 30C).  Yes, I did just write that it’s winter.  I plugged away at 12.47 miles on this lovely, relatively flat trail, in and out of shade.  I made five stream crossings on the way out, the same five on the way back.  On my last crossing, I fell in and drenched both feet!  I was getting a little cocky and went at rock hopping too quickly. 

The beginning (or end) of Arroyo Trabuco starts at a golf course:

My First Creek Crossing:

Clumps of Mistletoe hanging from the Sycamore trees:

One of my favorite spots:  Arroyo Trabuco / Tijeras Creek Trail junction.