Of course, coordinating Old Goat wouldn’t have been a cinch if I didn’t have such a wonderful pool of people chipping in. I am continually amazed how much of themselves people will give. In addition to the race directors Steve and Annie Harvey, we had about 22 HAM radio operators, two parking attendants, one medic, four drivers, four sweeps, and 34 workers to staff nine aid stations.
A little glimpse behind the scenes ~
Check-in:
A popular saying I’ve heard throughout my life is: “Time is Money.” Well, I am here to say that time is not money. Time is way more valuable than money.
During the past week, I have been too busy to hit any trails. But I have managed to get in two runs locally. I guess that’s not so bad.
Run 1: Sunday, 5.29 miles
Run 2: Friday (today): 9.45 miles
If I had more time I might spill more beans about these runs – as I am going through a rough time wondering if I’m really up for all this running anymore. But of to bed I am for a 3:30 AM wake-up and drive up the mountain. Tomorrow is Old Goat 50, of which I am I’m coordinating volunteer activities.
Woe is me who can hardly find time to get in runs nowadays. This week I managed to get in three runs, and I am grateful for that. Still, I need more miles. I want more trails
Run #1, Trabuco Creek Trail (in San Juan Capistrano) to Arroyo Trabuco (in Mission Viejo) 6.0 mile (9.66 km) out-and-back:
I crossed Trabuco Creek beneath the train tracks where I saw these high school students walking down to the creek. I half expected them to pull out a joint, or at the least a pack of cigarettes. Instead, they took fishing poles out from their packs.
Run #2, Aliso Creek Trail to Wood Canyon, up Cave Rock Trail, back to Wood Canyon, Dripping Cave Trail, Mathis, Oak Grove, and then up the big incline called Car Wreck Trail, back to Mathis Trail, West Ridge to Top of the World, Meadows, back to Aliso Creek Trail, 9.33 mile (15.02 km) loop:
I stopped by my favorite places in Aliso / Wood Canyons, such as Cave Rock, Dripping Cave and even Car Wreck Trail. Of course, my loop included Top of the World for a quick view of the lovely Pacific.
Everything was green and beautiful.
Run #3, ran inland from my house so that I could catch the bike trail down to Monarch Beach, to Salt Creek Beach, Dana Strands (AKA The Strands), up to The Headlands, and Highway One back home, 8.45 mile (13.6 km) loop:
Got out late (3PM) for once again some winter heat. 
And they were difficult. I think the main reason for my struggle was the winter warmth, and the fact that I set off toward the end of the day. Regardless, I am better for it.
Here’s the funny thing about run #3: according to my garmin, the elevation gain was 1,238’. I find this absolutely amazing, especially since I only reached a maximum elevation of 350’. There were lots of ups and downs, I suppose. And they add up. (I have not scrutinized the graph below to figure out whether Garmin got the total gain correct).
I woke earlier than the crack of dawn Saturday morning. 3:15 AM I was up and dressing for the Sycamore 100k relay. 3:45 AM Hank and I were driving in my truck to Poway, a city I’ve never traveled to, which is a good hour and fifteen minutes away. (Often when we talk distance in my parts, the measuring system we use is time. 
Once I exited the 5 Southbound, I was in unfamiliar territory. I drove the 78 in the dark, in the rain, and then onto the 15S, still in the dark, and in the rain. Of course we missed our turn-off into Sycamore canyon. Did I mention that it was dark and raining?
Our first stop about 5 miles after missing the turnoff was a gas station. When I was young (so very long ago) a gas station was exactly where one went when needing direction. Apparently, that’s not the case any longer. The employee at this station pre-5AM had never heard of Sycamore Canyon. They also didn’t have public restrooms. Grrrrrr.
Next stop, a 7-11 convenience store. Neither of the employees could give me directions. And again, no public restrooms. It looked like we were going to have a problem. That is until Hank suggested going into the pawn shop a couple doors down that was open at 5AM in the morning. Well, I thought it was a pawn shop because the pawn shop in that strip mall was so brightly lit, it looked like a casino. The establishment that was actually open at the time was East County Bait and Tackle. Hallelujah!! There are some things that fisherman and trail runners have in common. First off, we are apt to get up at “ass-o-clock-in-the-morning.” Secondly, we are interested in canyons and other wilderness areas, and generally enjoy helping people figure out how to get to their destinations. We both love an adventure.
Not only did the gentlemen (there were two) behind the counter tell us how to get to Sycamore Canyon, they printed up a Google map to aid us on our journey. They definitely saved our morning. (If you happen to be in the Lakeside/Poway area – give them your business.
We pulled into Sycamore Canyon at approximately 5:20 AM, in plenty of time for check-in and race directions. For the moment, rain had ceased. I wasn’t that nervous because I feel confident that I can trudge through almost any misery.
This 100k course consisted of 9 loops along a figure-eight route. Each loop measured about 7 miles with 1,000’ of elevation gain. My strategy for HL2PY (our team) thankfully was agreeable to Hank. That strategy was, he took the first loop to get us out ahead, then he took the last loop to catch us up again.
The rain began to fall just minutes after the first runners went off, taking the loop counter-clockwise. About a half hour later, the early starters began to dwindle in from their first loop.
Hank came in from loop #1 slightly earlier than I had expected (1:15), so I felt good about the course not being overly difficult for me.
I was wrong. I took the course clockwise, up a rocky terrain, stumbling some in a light drizzle. Though I encountered difficulty on the downhill portion where I was hoping to make up some time, I finally found my groove and was able to keep a decent pace for several miles.
Hank returning from lap #3 (his second lap), with an approx. time of 1:30 (I am writing times from memory, so I could be off some):
With Hank’s first two laps coming in well under 2:00, I felt good that we could make it, especially if I could stay around 2:00. It was cold when I took off. But within a mile, I began to overheat, TERRIBLY. I struggled to tie my rain jacket around my waist while running the rocky terrain, and dropped my beanie in the process. I back-tracked a bit to collect my beanie, then took off downhill, still overheating tremendously. Within the next mile, I had my running jacket also tired around my waist, in addition to gloves and a beanie in my pocket. I felt so miserably hot and muggy in this drizzly weather, that if I would have passed a campfire I would have gleefully threw all my warm clothes into it. I was aggravated me that much.
I tossed my jackets, beanie and gloves at the aid station which was located at the center of the figure-eight. As I ran to what is called “Cardiac Hill” (Not “Cardio”, but “Cardiac”), I felt so fatigued that I wondered how in the heck I was going to manage another lap. I struggled up that last hill back to race headquarters, coming in at around 2:05. I felt on the verge of tears. I didn’t think that I would be able to manage another loop.
The rest and camaraderie did wonders. After calling home and taking in some refreshments, I felt confident that I could pull off another lap at around 2:00 (but hopefully less).
My rest and wait were long. It was so long that I began to worry.
Below is a view of my climb back into headquarters:
Race Headquarters:
I knew that something had to be wrong with Hank still not back an entire hour longer than his last loop. I imagined the worst. He turned an ankle and was limping his way back. Eventually, Jessica sent a runner out to check for him. She knew that 2:25 was much too long for Hank, and pondered that perhaps he had gotten lost. Meanwhile, a runner occasionally dropped from the race for various reasons. Though the rain had ceased, we were wet, and some suffered from chaffing and the pure difficulty of the course. Though it was not a excruciatingly difficult course, it was nowhere near easy, and some parts were pretty dang tough. My typical 7 mile run is an out-and-back to Top of the World in Aliso Wood Canyons, and this course was much more difficult than that.
Turns out that Hank took a wrong turn, resulting in running one portion of the figure eight twice. This added at least three additional tough miles to his loop. With my usual slow pace, this put us in the deficit, especially since I wasn’t going to be able to make up time. Turns out for me, loop six (my 3rd) was terribly, TERRIBLY difficult. Pain in my right heal flared up, and I experienced a slight tinge of pain in my right hamstring as well. I put us in the hole even deeper, coming in around 2:10 (perhaps even later – I stopped looking at my garmin at a certain point – I felt too low to deal with the facts).
As we waited beneath headquarters' cover, I chatted with many wonderful runners, watched other wonderful runners drop, and yet others finish triumphantly. Jim Tello and a lady whose name I know on paper and on the internet, but only met for the first time on this day (Desi Klaar) both urged race director Jessica Deline to allow Hank and I to complete laps 8 and 9 simultaneously. Can you believe that she agreed to that? I can believe it. I can believe it, because Jessica genuinely wants people to finish her races. She shows no outwardly joy for low completion rates. Believe me though, her agreeing to let us run the final laps simultaneously does not come as great news when one has already resolved to a DNF. The rain had stopped, but who knew if it would pour again? Besides that, it was cold and wet, and I really didn’t think that I could do a 2:00 loop. And quite frankly, I didn’t want to disappoint myself again. But I dug through my gear and put on my headlamp nonetheless. And if Hank would have come soon, I would have headed out for lap #8 (my 4th).
Now, if Hank pulled of a great lap 7, he would come in about 6:30PM. That hour came and went with no Hank. 7:00 PM hit, and the rain fell in a down pour. That’s when I made the mental decision that I could not go out there again. Hank was already at a 1:45 loop, which meant something was up. I didn’t see things heading toward an upward momentum. 7:20 rolled around and Jessica advised that runners should really head out by 7:30 on the last loop if they planned on finishing on time. The park had a hard cut-off for locking the gates at 9:45PM.
There was no way we were going to make it, even with running laps 8 and 9 simultaneously. I started packing up the truck. Hank came in at around 7:30 PM.
I was relieved that he was “done” as he put it. Turns out, he missed the turn off to climb out of the canyon, which accounted for his 2:10 lap. He was in good spirits, and hopefully he wasn’t too disappointed in not finishing. The race had to be called. We were done. The only team to DNF, though 60% of the solo runners had DNF’d.
I am a-okay with not finishing. I got in a dang good workout. And quite frankly, I would have never gotten in 21 miles under off and on rain left to my own accord – especially with that elevation gain (3,400’). Heck, who am I kidding, doesn’t matter what elevation? I would have stayed home bundled up if it wasn’t for Sycamore 100K. I am at the point now in my trail running that I am grateful for the experience, and even more so for the camaraderie. I loved being in the atmosphere. My team partner Hank was a true champ. He was supportive all the way, and I never saw him lose his cool concerning the extra mileage he put in due to the wrong turns (his mileage totaled around 31 miles).
Next year, I think a 4 “man” team might be best.
Sunday, we got a good downpour here in the land that seldom sees rain. I know that we need the rain, but rain spoils things for me, especially since Mondays are one of the few days that I can get out and run. As expected, all my local tails were CLOSED “due to wet and muddy conditions.”
Well, I had me a full tank of gas, so I thought, “Hell with it,” and headed up Ortega Highway in my beloved truck. I know that I would have been better off staying home and putting in miles right out my front door. I would after all, have time to get in some good mileage if I had chosen that route. But what I wanted was beauty, not brawn.
I pulled into Blue Jay campground an hour later, and felt calm and joyful being back to this lovely location. The ground was still muddy, a few campfires smoldered beneath overly cloudy, cold skies. Gosh, it had to be 50 degrees F! (I’m so sorry – I know that isn’t cold for the rest of the world, but it is cold here). Branches were strewn about; no trees were down, though a few widow makers hung precariously from branches above. I felt so at home that I could have pitched a tent and stayed a week.
I cannot adequately relay just how happy and peaceful I felt.
Since hubby had indicated that he would pick up the boys from school, I took off down San Juan Trail feeling like I had all the time in the world. I did not see another soul on the trails as I made my way toward the San Juan / Old San Juan Trail junction. But I was not alone. The forest was alive with sound – critters scrambling through the brush, birds singing anonymously among the trees. Listening to this music, I had no desire for man-made music, and kept my ear buds hanging over my shoulders.
I spotted my destination, Sugarloaf Peak, a mile out. It took some trial and error to find the path that leads to the entrance at the top. Then it was climbing time, scooting over boulders, grabbing onto branches. My legs were scuffed with scratches. Oh the glory. 
The wind picked up; the temperature dropped. And I simply sat there on that rock and took it all in – the sights, the sounds, the chilling wind. It was a little spooky, like the wind might swoop me off my rock. I dug around in my pack and replaced my cap with a wool beanie, and I was good for the cold. Then I sat some more.
Eventually, I felt that I ought to get going – not that I wanted to go (I could have stayed all day). I just needed to get back to reality because I do have a wonderful family back at home (young sons that I desire to see, since I miss out on so much with this crazy work schedule). And I also had a meeting with my boss later in the afternoon.
I finally glanced at my garmin when my feet hit Old San Juan Trail. It read 1:10. Flabbergasted, I thought to myself, “This must be time elapsed – it CANNOT be 1PM!” But, alas it was after 1PM (time elapsed was much greater). One might think that since it was so dang late, that I would have picked up my step a bit. But I did not. Instead, I lackadaisically ran back (because that is the way roll) toward my truck.
At the Old San Juan Trail / San Juan Trail junction, I decided to take a so-called short-cut by going straight up Old San Juan instead of meandering San Juan. (Okay, we have two trails out here called “San Juan Trail”, not to mention an additional “San Juan Loop.” We have an older, less travelled trail, the original San Juan Trail, that we call “Old San Juan Trail.” And we have a new San Juan Trail that we call “San Juan Trail” or “New San Juan Trail”. Just thought I’d straighten that out). Now, speaking of so-called short-cuts, I know darn well that “short-cut” never really means that the trip is shorter in time. In fact, short-cuts are usually much more difficult. And that it was. But it was a lovely struggle getting back to the truck. All that beauty was well worth the brawn.
