Easter Streak

I might as well face the fact that I’m a counter.  I have been a counter for as long as I remember.  I counted my books, my records, my dolls as a young girl.  Now, I count steps.  I count hills.  I count caterpillars.  Right now, I’m counting a variety of things.  Today is the 52nd day of my fitness streak.  Today is also the 28th day of my One Hundred Happy Day Challenge.  In addition (seriously), today is my 29th day without sweets.  And last, but not least, today is day two of my Easter Running Streak. 

When I read that my blogging friend, Johann, was beginning a streak on April 1st, I could not resist.  I’ve often thought of running as a celebration.  Why not streak out the month of April to celebrate Easter?   I realize that merely because I use the term celebration does not mean this streak is going to be easy.  It will be a challenge.  A big challenge.  I feel an added bit of strength knowing that Johann will be attempting a streak as well.  

My rules:  Run every day during the month of April.  Minimum 1.01 miles.  During this month, I’m taking a break from achieving weekly mileage goals.  It’s just going to be about running, and running period. 

Time to celebrate!

Day 1 (Tuesday):  On day one, I was ready to pull a minimum.  Having substitute taught 4th grade during the day, and taught my regular adult class in the evening, I had no choice but to run in the afternoon between the two jobs.  If you know me, you know that I don’t like running in the afternoon.  I should re-state that.  If I start in the morning, I don’t mind one bit, running into the afternoon.  I just don’t like to start my run in the afternoon.  I’m too wiped out from everyday things by then. 

On the first day of my streak however, I did manage to pull off more than a mile.  I ran straight out my front door and took a quick run down to the marina.  In total, I ran 3.20 miles. 

Day 2 (Wednesday):  Today, I got out in the morning, for an after-rain run on trails.  It rained throughout the night, so I didn’t even attempt to run in the coastal hills.  The powers-that-be close those trails even with a moderate rain.  Instead, I headed off to the foothills for a jaunt along Tijeras Creek Trail.  From there, I ran a lush Arroyo Trabuco Trail until time dictated that I head back.  At that point in the trail, I stopped in front of three deer who stood so perfectly still in the high grass, I was a bit confused for a fleeting moment.  I wondered if they were perhaps deer-mannequins.  (Haha, I’m serious).  And then one of them blinked.  After making eye contact with each other for several minutes, I turned around and headed back to Tijeras Creek. 

On the way back, I didn’t take off my shoes before the last creek crossing like I did on the way in.  My feet were already wet from falling in the full creek earlier, so I just plodded through the low-shin-deep waters back toward my truck. 

Miles run on day two:  10.35

Modjeska Peak in Black and White

Sunday morning, I eventually ended up in Silverado Canyon.  I write “eventually,” because I first found myself parked in a lot up Ortega Highway.  I was sitting in my truck before the sun came up, waiting for the rain to stop.  It didn’t stop, so I drove home.  The best thing is, I was running up Maple Springs much later that morning.  The weather was cool, almost cold, the skies were big and beautiful.  I ran to Modjeska Peak, a peak I have neglected far too long all because I wanted the bigger cookie, Santiago Peak.  Modjeska Peak was delightful.  It was quiet, and it was lonely.  It was so well-worth a climb. 

My trip in black and white:  (14.19 miles, +2,464’)

Finishing up the Wretchedness

The skies have been dark, cold and gloomy the past few days.  Yet, no rain.  Today, I set out on hilly trails in Aliso/Wood Canyons beneath these dark moist skies, trying to kick troubles from my mind.  It wasn’t until the rains came down as I ran through green meadows, that I was finally able to let go.  When I write “let go,” I mean to run in the moment, to think about nothing, to just be in the present.  And the present only.

I encountered some difficulty maintaining this, as the outside world pounded on my brain to be let in.  I relented and let it in occasionally.  I’ll tell you what though – climbing up Mentally Sensitive (see the steepest climb in profile below) took all my troubles and dashed them on the rocks.  In a nutshell, the climb was murder.  The best thing about it was finishing up the wretchedness.  After that trial, it was all pretty much easy going from then on.  Best thing was, I received a text message from a good friend that I haven’t heard from in a long time.  Bad thing was, she was in town, and I was too far to get to her in time.  Still, I enjoyed the awesomeness of this spring day, rain, intruding troubles, steep climbs and all!

Here’s to trying to running ridiculously difficult climbs.

Miles run:  11.02  Route:  Aliso Creek Trail, Wood Canyon, Meadows, Mentally Sensitive, Top of the World, West Ridge, Mathis, Wood Canyon, Cave Rock Trail, Wood Canyon, Aliso Creek Trail

Old Goat Sweep

I drove up the mountain before sunrise this morning.  My destination:  Lower Blue Jay campground in the Cleveland National Forest.  Today, I had the honor to sweep Old Goat 50 Miler.  Oh, the privileges of working a race!  First off, I was able to drive all the way to the front lot to park.  I also didn’t have to sign in or sign any waiver.  I walked around in the big tent.  I knew the race director, his wife and the race coordinator all by name.  I saw lots of running friends, both runners and volunteers.  And best of all, I got to take off running whenever I was dang ready.

The sweeper’s job: 

Sweepers run behind the last person in the race.  They pick up trash, take down course markers, and look for anyone left on the trail.  Sweepers in the first parts of the race have it pretty easy.  Runners are still relatively happy.  Sweepers don’t have to pull anyone from the race.  And the weather is nice and cool.

My route: 

I swept the first ten miles of Old Goat this morning.  It entailed a loop referred to Cocktail Loop, which consists of running San Juan Trail to Old San Juan Trail, back to San Juan Trail into Blue Jay campground.  There’s no aid stations along the route.  It’s all single-track, and technical.

I had an overwhelmingly enjoyable run sweeping Old Goat.  I felt utterly stress-free, with all the time in the world to complete this loop.  The run was so easy, I don’t think I took even one sip of fluids until about mile 8.  I met new people, some I recognized from Facebook.  I fell once, skinned my knee.  And I practiced maneuvering over ridiculously rocky terrain.   Back at the San Juan/Old San Juan Intersection, I got to help direct runners out for their second loop (The Candy Store Loop).  I wasn’t jealous one bit that I was not running this race.  I much preferred my easy-peasy, happy time over any inevitable death-march today. 

On Cocktail Rock:

Rolling Ridges

I felt at a loss where to run this morning.  I’ve had too much of Aliso/Wood Canyons, its shady groves, spring flowers, creek crossings and wretched climbs and descents to and from the ridge.  I’ve had about enough of Arroyo Trabuco trail too, with its multitude of creek crossings, lush groves and relatively flat terrain.  This morning it was, “Ho hum, where do I run?”

I suspect hubby could tell that I was approaching the door to the blues.  I’m guessing that’s why he handed over his debit card and said, “Get some gas and go run in the mountains.”  I took it in a heartbeat (I have yet to get the bank to get my own debit card).  But then I took so long getting out of the house, I opted for something entirely different – a run in Crystal Cove and Laguna wilderness.  This time though, I didn’t pay the exorbitant cost of the toll road.  I took the long way and drove through Laguna Beach. 

Wonderful Laguna Beach. 

Many, many years ago, before our three boys were born, I drove every day through Laguna Beach to get to my job in Irvine.  Oh, how I longed to be one of those wanderers strolling along the boulevard as I drove bumper-to-bumper, puffing cigarette smoke out the open window of my Toyota Corolla.  The Greeter, the original greeter, an endearing old man, stood on a corner and waved at me every single day as I drove by.  He waved at everyone.  For years.   And years. 

This morning as I drove though this town, I couldn’t help delight in the idea that I am one of those wanderers now (not exactly how I imagined, but I am).  The greeter is no longer on this earth.  But a larger than life statue stands on the road replicating his wave.  In front of that statue, stood another man this morning.  He wore a red coat as he waved at the drivers moving along Highway One.  Sure, he wasn’t the original.  But he put a smile on my face, just as the original greeter had so many times. 

Oh ya!  Lest I forget . . . I ran today.   I made a three-ridge loop (with a connector trail along the way).  Though I was still tired from yesterday, I enjoyed every perspire of sweat.

First, I ran along Bommer Ridge, high about the Pacific Ocean.  It’s a mainly downhill ridge, rolling though, with some up’s. 

Bommer Ridge:

After Bommer Ridge, I hopped onto El Moro Ridge.  It’s more rolling than Bommer, and heads directly toward the ocean.  I spied many coyote and bobcat tracks.  I explored the campgrounds.  And I stopped to photo this green meadow:

El Moro Ridge:

From El Moro Ridge, I took B.F.I., which stand’s for Big F’ing Incline.  For me it was all down hill.  I stopped for at bit at the WWII bunker.  Ate my snack there as I gazed down at the Pacific.  Then I was off again, headed for the BIG rolling climb up No-Name Ridge.

View from B.F.I. bunker:

I took no pictures (prisoners?) from No-Name Ridge.  I found the climb quite taxing.  I ran when I could.  When the ascents were too steep, I practiced my power hiking.  In all, I covered 9.82 miles on this loop.  And as usual, I believe I’m better for it. 

Meeting up with Mr. Mathis

My feet did not hit dirt today until 10:30 AM.  That’s pretty dang late for me.  Usually, when I push off my start until this late, I am hard pressed to run at all.  It wasn’t like that this morning, I arrived to the trails when I could get there.  And I was fine with that.  The air was cool and breezy.  The skies were clear.  Lizards and squirrels scampered about.  Two large gopher snakes crossed my path.  And I ran up on this lovely field of flowers:

I elected on running up Mathis trail to the ridge today.  Why?  I have no idea.  I pretty much hate Mathis, and only take it when I’m a glutton for punishment.  It ascends rather steeply for about a mile, doesn’t really switch-back at all, and is totally exposed (no shade!).  The trip was pretty much murder – which made reaching the ridge all the much better!

First sightings of California poppies (on Mathis):

About to climb Mathis with only one thing on my mind:  ONE FOOT IN FRONT OF THE OTHER!

After topping Mathis, I had a significant climb remaining to Top of the World where I took in my usual Pacific Ocean view.  From there, I got some flat running all the way to Mentally Sensitive Trail.  I still cannot take Mentally Sensitive with any speed at all.  It’s just too steep.  All the ruts left from our last rain made the trip even more nerve-racking.  Then with just about fifty yards remaining, I came upon a section under trail maintenance.  It seemed as if the trail had been plowed, or rototilled.  As soon as I spotted all that loose dirt, I grew apprehensive.  Perhaps it was my fear and the fact that I slowed down that caused my fall.  I’m not sure.  All I know is that one second I was upright, and in a moment my feet slipped out from beneath me, and I flew to the ground.  I landed hard on my rear, my palms slamming into the rocks and dirt.  Then I fell onto my back, my pack once again softening the impact.  I was left with a backside covered in dirt and two small punctures in both my right and left palms. 

The slip jarred me some, mainly because the impact was so fierce.  But it was still all worth it – meeting up with Mr. Mathis again and also facing my fear down that wretchedly steep Mentally Sensitive.

I guess I’m a trail runnin’ fool.