I am still here. But where the hell have I been? That is a question I had to ask myself. My answer: I took a break. And that’s the story I’m sticking with 
. Not a real break, else I self-loathe into oblivion. No, I took a mini-break, one filled with more rest that I usually allow myself. And I’m glad I did. Well, not really. But I’m forcing myself to be glad. I’m forcing myself to be content with what is.
To recap: I took some days off after The Hustle. Four to be exact. I figured that the rest would do me good, and that I’d be ready to run up a mountain.
Note to self: I cannot skip the recovery run.
I should have taken my post race blues as a hint to at least hit the dirt for a few miles before attempting to run up a mountain.
But, I didn’t.
I first set my feet to the dirt the Thursday after The Hustle where I met two girlfriends, Kelly and Sheila, in Silverado Canyon, about 3.5 miles past the Maple Springs trailhead. I found the climb up tiring. Quite slow. And hot.
At about 4.25 miles, when we FINALLY reached “Four Corners,” the ladies said that they wanted to put in another .75 miles for an even 5 miles. I gladly stayed behind for some views.
I didn’t begin searching for my pals until a half hour had passed. Unfortunately, I didn’t listen well (lesson: listen!) when they told me which direction they would be travelling. I searched to no avail, couldn’t even find their footprints. Approaching an hour since our departure from each other, I began to REALLY worry. I know these ladies. I know their behavior on trails, and know that they don’t willy-nilly go off unexpectedly. I felt for sure something had happened. I thought to myself, “This is why I run alone!!”
And so, I ran back to “Four Corners,” from my search and in a calm panic, I walked around for a spot with cell-phone connection, and found enough bars to phone my husband. He assured me that I probably mis-understood their intentions, that I should wait for them more, or slowly make my way back down the mountain. As we spoke, I saw one of my friends making her way from a direction that I didn’t expect.
The ladies had no idea how much time had passed and were profusely sorry for worrying me. All was well that ended well. I suppose I over-reacted in my worry.
The next day, Friday (July 24), I took it easy with some ab work on my living room floor, as well as, upper body weights and burpees (both of which I hate).
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| That first Saturday of my 2 week sabbatical (7/26/14), I spent some time at an air-conditioned gym about a mile away from my home with 5.23 miles on the elliptical crossramp and 4.34 miles on the adaptive motion trainer (AMT). Afterward, I lay myself down on a bench for 400 crunches. I finished off the gym session with fifty suspended leg lifts. Back at home I managed ten burpees. Yes, managed. Sunday (7/27) was a day of rest with a mere ten burpees on the backyard lawn. Really. That’s all I could manage. |
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| Monday, I just couldn’t bear getting out on the road, or the trails yet. I was just too morose. Instead, I found myself in an air-conditioned gym once again, where I plowed through 5.26 miles on the elliptical crossramp and 2.4 miles on the AMT. I finished off this sabbatical gym session with upper and lower body weights, and then finally a mere 11 burpees at home on the backyard lawn. Tuesday (7/29), I managed to get in a little run by running out my front door during one hot and humid afternoon before my last teaching day this summer. I ran alongside the beach, past the crowded campgrounds and to the southern city limits. When the sidewalk ended, I turned around and ran back home.  
Thursday (7/31), I made this sabbatical official with another trip to my air-conditioned gym. After trying four different elliptical crossramps, I found one in working condition and put in 5.14 miles. I ended the session with a weight session – upper and lower body. Friday, (8/1) was a true day of rest. I spent this day of rest by dragging my three boys boys down to the corner where we caught a bus to Crystal Cove in Newport Coast. It was a party bus of sort, and we were amused by the raucousness of its young passengers. (One young lad was even kicked off the bus for smoking an E-cigarette). After disembarking we hiked a bit inland (where I often run trails), then we turned back toward the beach for a trip beneath the highway to the sandy beaches there. And we camped out here for a few hours before trekking back up to the highway, and caught another bus, and then another to be dropped off near home: 
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| Saturday (8/2), when I was feeling that I had a long enough sabbatical, but didn’t mind extending it some, I found myself once again in my air-conditioned gym where I pushed through 5.33 miles on the elliptical crossramp, 5.12 miles on the AMT, a good session of upper and lower body weights, 350 crunches on the bench and 50 suspended leg lifts. And then finally, on Sunday, today (8/3) I pursued my last day of this sabbatical with another session in my air-conditioned gym. Miles recorded: 5.23 on the elliptical crossramp and 2.41 miles on the AMT. Well then, there -- Sabbatical ended. This is where the hell I’ve been. I’m happy about it (and I’m sticking with that story ) Okay, then . . . am I crazy?
I never really thought that I had it in me to run The Harding Hustle. I was never going to even try. This was the race that I worked, not ran. It was too hot. It was too steep. And I would have to summit not once, but THREE times. That is, until 2014 when I registered for this race. A momentary lapse of reason, I suppose. I wanted to use this as a training run. I woke at 3:30 AM, left my house at 4:00 AM, arrived in Modjeska Canyon at 4:30. I took off up Harding Truck Trail at 5:00 AM. I elected an early start with two other runners, one of them my friend Emmett Rahl. At the start line, Emmett gave me a laminated pace sheet with cut-offs, and pacing for a 7:30 finish and a 10:00 finish. Considering that I doubted that I could even finish this race, I hoped for the longer finish. On the backside, he had printed a group photo of my three sons and husband. Early on in the dark, I turned my ankle going up that mountain, but not terribly. But, I have to admit that I thought to myself, “I really wouldn’t be that upset if I twisted my ankle.” I had about thirty-one miles to go at that point. An unbearable thought, so much so, that I didn’t think about it. I just plodded one foot in front of the other. I considered the first “leg” of this 50k the almost entirely uphill trip along Harding Truck Trail. It measures about 9.3 miles. The first mile is the worst mile. And it doesn’t ease up until about mile 6.5. At that point, the road levels out some, and there’s even a slight down hill. Only slight. Normally, it takes me about 3:15 to make that nine mile trip. Yes that long! I am excruciatingly slow during that first leg. Quite amazingly, I made the trip on Saturday in under 3 hours, something like 2:50. To make matters quite pleasurable, the skies were cloudy and the breeze was cool. Trying to catch Emmett (which I never did) going up Harding: Views from Harding TT: First Leg complete: The second leg of this 50k was the trip up to Modjeska Peak, which measures about 3 miles. Also entirely uphill, there’s quite a few rocky portions which I found more than annoying. But the views were so gorgeous and the breeze was still so cool, there was no getting me down, even as numerous regular starters began passing me. I found great solace in seeing a few runners that I know as I ran up to Modjeska Peak. One of my running friends, Randall Tolosa, manned the post at Modjeska where I turned around and ran back down for the third leg of this 50k. On The Main Divide onward to Modjeska Peak: Shoe Tying at Modjeska Peak: Coming off Modjeska Peak: The third leg of this race entailed running down Modjeska into the saddle and up to Santiago Peak – a trip totaling about 3.5 miles. Somewhere in the third leg, I met a reader of my blog (thanks for saying Hi and telling me you read Laurenontherun!!!). Running down into the saddle I teared up, as I knew at this point I was truly committed to the 50K. I was on my way to Santiago Peak, and there would be no turning back for a 30k race. It was a finish or a DNF for me – just as I wanted. I took out my phone and texted my husband, “in the saddle.” I found the third leg tiring and hiked a bit of that switchback up to “Talking Towers,” (AKA Santiago Peak). Some of the runners powered up to the peak, others walked for more strength later. I saw Emmett as he came back down, and he shouted out words of encouragement, as he knew all about my doubts. I looked at my family’s picture quite a few times and smiled wide. And I used the pace sheet to move me on quicker. So far, I was coming in with times under the 10:00 finish, and well above the cut offs for the race. I felt fine. I was enjoying this adventure. And even more amazingly, I kept the demons at-bay. There was no negative self-talk, no “I suck,” or “Who am I kidding?” It was more, “Look how beautiful that is!” or “I am so lucky that the breeze is cool today.” I meet several other runners at Santiago Peak, and familiar faces working the aid station. I took a little more time at this peak, filling my hydration pack and talking a bit with the other runners. I took off for leg four well within the race cut-off times. The fourth leg was back to into the saddle and back up Modjeska Peak. I teared up again in the saddle, this time because I knew that I would probably finish this race. “Don’t count your chickens before they hatch,” I warned myself. Still, I felt confident. I texted my husband, “back in the saddle.” At the base of Modjeska Peak, I found myself weary of making that climb again. You could have shot me at that point and I probably would have been fine with that. I REALLY didn’t want to summit again. But I drudged up that switch-back alongside the other runners who dragged along with me. I noticed one guy sit down to rest as I finally quite happily made my way back down for the 5th leg back to Harding Truck Trail. Keeping a foothold on that rocky terrain was difficult. Back in the Saddle: I left the Maple Springs aid station for the final leg of this 50k at about ten minutes past the pacing for a 10:00 finish. I felt fine with that. But I had energy still, and I had run this 9.3 downhill on many occasions. I knew that I could run it quicker than I thought that I could. And so I took off with the intent of a 12 minute mile all the way down. I did very well, felt strong, met other runners. I was going back and forth with another runner who looked familiar. He finally caught me again with about 6 miles to go, and we ran side-by-side silently for a bit. So I pushed a little harder when he finally said, “Gosh Lauren, put down the hammer!” Ha! Turns out we kind of knew each other. He remembered me from working Chimera. He said that I helped him at the Holy Jim Aid. I remembered him as Jeff Higgins from Old Goat 50. He was the guy behind me with encouraging words at the end of the race. Well, he finally said that he couldn’t keep up and I raced off ahead of him gaining more speed as I crashed down the mountain (though I passed him, he finished with a better time, about fifteen minutes quicker because I started earlier). It was great to see Jeff again. And it was a booster to pass him. With less than 5 miles remaining, I stopped one last time, at the Laurel Springs aid station. My eyes stung from salt dripping off my head. So, I took the time to drench my bandana and washed out my eyes. Then I draped the wet bandana over my head and headed down Harding Truck Trail. I continued to pass other runners down that mountain who would beat me in overall time. But it still felt good to finally pass runners. I ran that last leg, the 9.3 rocky mainly downhill miles in less than 2:15. My best from prior runs was 2:30. I am happy to report that I finished The Harding Hustle 50k. It wasn’t quick. In fact, it was slow. But I did it. I wasn’t pulled. I didn’t fall. I didn’t lose all my strength. I never went into the dark side. I kept my wits about me. My garmin time was 9:25:41. The race’s clock time had me at 9:27. I’ll take it. I finished. And I am so, so, so grateful for that! Less than 5 miles left:  
I must say that I’m having a great time in my state of unpreparedness as I approach The 50K Harding Hustle. I got out early this morning for one last little run before the big event. Best thing about today’s run (besides the empty trails and awesome views) is that I got to run with another long time trail running friend. I haven’t run with Sheila in years, and we ran today as if not a day had passed. It’s like we had just run together yesterday. And I was back home by 8AM – plenty of time to contemplate this Saturday’s Harding Hustle.   
My goal for this weekend at The Harding Hustle is to run the 31+ miles as a training run. This is precisely why I registered for the race. I wanted to go long (30+) in a safe environment – such as one with aid stations and other people. Here’s my dilemma: Medal Lust. If it seems that I’m not going to make the 50k within the time requirements, I know that the smell of that finisher’s medal will tempt me to drop to the lower “mileage” race, the 30k. I can do the 30k, no problem – it’s one of my training runs. I have run it many times by myself. The 50k is a whole other story. Chances are slim that I can make it within the time requirements. Here’s what I want to do come Saturday: Forgo the finisher’s medal and run as much of the 50k as I can. In other words, swallow the DNF (if that’s inevitable). DO NOT drop down to the 30k; give up the medal. This my friends will be VERY difficult for me to accomplish. I must remind myself when I come to the 30k turnaround, that I am in no way in this hustle for the medal. I am in this adventure for the training. For the training. Training. Training. Training.
When I woke at 4:30 Sunday morning, I looked forward to climbing West Horsethief like I would look forward to a bullet in the head. Seriously. I did not want to go. I hate West Horsethief. Hate it. This is precisely why I force myself up it. Because I hate it. It was the thought of seeing my two trail running friends that I haven’t run with in years, that I got me out the door. Without them, I wouldn’t have gone out this morning, at least not to Horsethief. We got an early start, hitting the dirt up Trabuco Trail at 6:30 AM. The 2.5 mile uphill climb was minimal compared to what awaited us at Horsethief. Later we would see that first two mile portion as the “flat” part. I didn’t know how I was going to do it, climb the mountain that is. But I knew that I could do it, albeit slowly, simply by putting one foot in front of the other. Hank ploughed up ahead on Horsethief, occasionally waiting in the small bits of shade for Kelly and I. Horseflies took miniature chunks out of my arms and legs. Gnats swarmed into my eyes. You quickly recognize bug landings on these runs. If a bug lands on you for more than three seconds, get it off. Because it’s going to bite. So, I swatted at my legs and arms to get the flesh eaters off. The gnats, well, I just let them swarm, swallowing a few, breathing in a few. When we met Hank on this massive climb, he’d be there handing us cold chunks of deliciously sweet watermelon. And though the climb seemed never-ending, and I felt near miserable, taking on Horsethief was much more bearable with friends. This was Kelly’s first time, and she took it smiling the whole time! Just tickled to death going up W. Horsethief: When all else fails, and you think you want to collapse, turn your head and take in the view: So close to the top: (Photo credit for picture above: Hank / Hank’s Life on the Move) After that hellish climb, we took on the majestic rolling hills of The Main Divide. The views were immense with crystal clear shots of Lake Elisnore and Lake Matthews. Far off, we could see that the coastal towns had lots of cloud cover. We had very little. The weather was HOT. Very hot. On The Main Divide: For the last five mile leg of this 14+ mile run, we ran down Holy Jim. We said hello to a few gnats again. And speaking for myself, I couldn’t wait to get back to the cool comfort of my truck, were it was parked in the lush shade with ice cold drinks and an air-conditioner waiting to be turned on. The heat running down Holy Jim was nearly unbearable. It felt as if someone was holding torches at my calves. The only way to get through it was to keep on going. And going . . . and going. I took up the rear (of course) and felt so overwhelmed with heat, I took down my energy level a notch so that I would not boil over. Still, the beauty was immense, and I had the lovely company of friends.  
I don’t know what’s the matter with me, except for the notion that I may have lost all, and I mean ALL perspective on strength and training. When I run less than ten miles, I consider it a short run. Nine miles: short run. If I put in less than 40 miles during a week, I feel like a failure. I never feel strong in my training. In fact, I feel like a complete weakling. All. The. Time. I go to the gym, spend an hour on the elliptical, a half hour on the treadmill for speed work, then an hour on the cycle. I can top that off with thirty minutes of weights, another fifteen minutes of ab work, and I feel like I can’t do anything strength and endurance-wise, like I have no strength at all. What is the matter with me? I try and go with it and still plug through these workouts, enjoying the trails like I do. But when it’s all said and done, I don’t get a sense of accomplishment. I feel like I came up short, like I failed. Like I don’t try hard enough. Such is the truth concerning my training. Still, I go out there and run those trails, not because they give me greater strength or endurance, but because they clear my mind and fill it with beauty. My first and only run thus far this week, came on late in the week – Thursday afternoon, 1 o’ clock in the afternoon, to be exact. The heat was strong, and the air was heavy. I didn’t feel like I could do it. But I just started running, like I always do. Sweat dripped down onto my face early on – it was so damn hot. The hills were empty. Really. Empty. I decided to run up Meadows Trail, a steep hot climb. I didn’t fret going up, and I power-hiked most of it. At the top of Meadows, I looked back at the Santa Ana Mountains and took in the view of my beloved Saddleback. 
I continued on across Top of the World with no idea about my pace, as my garmin battery was dead (& I didn’t notice until I parked my truck). Funny thing. I really can’t tell how fast (or slow) I’m running. A 15 minute pace feels the same as a 10 minute pace to me. Go figure. The only difference I’ve noted on trails is that with the quicker pace, my steps are shorter. And so I took shorter steps in a hopeful attempt to pick up my pace. 
Thursday’s heat run measured 9.4 miles. And I only know that (because I wasn’t wearing a garmin) because I’ve run the route before. My route: Aliso Creek Canyon, Wood Canyon, Meadows Trail, Top of the World, West Ridge, Mathis, Wood Canyon, Aliso Creek Trail. My swing break in Alta Laguna Park at Top of the World:
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