Missing the Pack

I’ve been doing some “spring” cleaning this summer. Most recently, I cleaned out my closet and beneath the bed. I got rid of no less than ten pairs of shoes. Most of them went into the trash bin, two pairs of boots and one pair of heels went into a charity box. I kept seven pairs of running shoes, though I only really ever wear two of them. Found a great deal of caps that I thought I lost. Organized my swim bag, and put it to the front of the closet for easy reach.  Lastly, I dusted off my lonely old hydration packs, and stacked them in the corner of my room, my favorite, the light blue Ultimate Direction Wink, on top. Oh, how I miss that pack. It has been with me through so much.

I hadn’t planned on running yesterday, Sunday, especially with a rock cut on my toe that I gained Friday swimming in the ocean with my youngest son. As the day lingered on however, I day dreamt about my pack. And then I did something crazy. I took off in my truck in the middle of the day, around 3:00PM for a run in Wood Canyon. I really, really wanted to wear my pack. Though the seven mile trek out and back in Wood Canyon wouldn’t normally warrant a pack, I decided to bring her along. Besides, it was going to be hot.

Thankfully, it all began in shade . . .

The trails were relatively quiet. I came upon five or six hikers, a few runners. But for a weekend day, they were empty. There were snake trails, lots of bunnies, and stink bugs. A breeze blew once and again, and parts of the trail felt like an oven. I found peace in the struggling, even in the heat.

On the back portion, it got so hot, I had to walk some steps to cool down. I know a thing or two about overheating, and that I must cool down.  Good thing I had lots of cool water in pack. I ended the run with relief and a smile.

Loving the Pack:

One of my favorite spots in Wood Canyon – this picture doesn’t come close to capturing the spot:

Onshore Breeze

Slept in good and long this morning. Finally dragged myself out of bed about 9AM and peeked out the window blinds. We were socked in. Glory be to God! Today, I thought, just might be a day that I forgo the air-conditioned gym for some running. Still, I was leery. I did not want to get caught out in the heat, such the baby that I am nowadays. Fearing the clouds would part, I put off the decision, instead washing dishes and doing laundry for the next couple of hours. When I finally ventured out doors during this chore period of the day, I found that we had a onshore breeze going on. For those who do not live near a body of water, this means that it was cool out, almost cold actually. Decision made, I didn’t waste any time driving to another location. I took advantage of the cool weather on the spot and ran out the front door.  I ran 5.75 miles along the coast, enjoying every single bit of it. The skies were gray, yes. And it was a bit muggy.  But still that onshore breeze kept me going.

I did not have a brush on me :Coming into Capo Beach:Looking toward The Headlands and the Dana Point Harbor:Another Cow:

Spoiled

It was so damn hot in the house on Friday (7/29), I went for a run to cool off. Living on the coast, we have little need for an air conditioner. Most of the time! There are probably only about thirty days during the year that we suffer from heat around here. And it never gets into three digits. I am just spoiled.

So, I thought I’d cool off with a run down into the harbor. Didn’t work. I was pretty much miserable the entire time – sweat in my eyes, extra exhausted, etc. But the scenery of my route was oh, so beautiful, and I did manage to pull off 5.73 miles. Oh, and I saw another painted cow!

Follow the Yellow Shirt Boy

Wednesday, July 27, I headed out the door about 5PM. On the way out, I hollered, “I’m going for a short run.” That’s when my youngest (the yellow shirt boy) asked if he could ride his bike along with me. Knowing that I will be approaching the years when he doesn’t want to hang out with Mom, and the fact that he picks up my pace, I readily agreed.

And so I followed the boy with the yellow shirt, as we headed along my route. It entailed riding to the bluff, and down the winding sidewalk into the harbor. From there, we took the bridge over to the island, where we covered its entirety. About that time, the yellow shirt boy began to complain that he was tired. He got off his bike and began walking, and even limping a bit. He said that he hurt his leg. I knew we were in trouble, as the remaining one mile or so was all uphill. “Come on yellow shirt boy! You can do this!!”

“Short Run!!” he rebuffed. “This is NOT short.”

That’s when I remembered so abruptly that words like short are relative. Doh!

At mile 4.15, I called my husband. And he drove down to the harbor to pick us up and drive us home.

Following the yellow shirt boy . . .

Can’t Hack the Heat

Heat just kills me nowadays. I can’t hack running in it, I can’t hack working it it, I can’t even hack sleeping in it. My husband says that he has to fight a gale force wind when he comes into our bedroom at night because I have the fan running so high. 

It’s more the idea of running in heat that gets to me than the actual doing it. Sitting around in a furnace, makes it very difficult to get out the door for a run. But once I get there, the heat is bearable, and amazingly I can kick out some miles. Most of the time though, I don’t get as far as the front door. I say, heck with it, and drive to an air-conditioned gym instead.

The last time I was able to drag my butt out there was four days ago, Saturday the 23rd at about 4:30PM. The trails were empty, with only a few people hiking up and around Top of the World. But West Ridge, it was a lonely oven with ocean views. 5.16 miles in all, and that was quite enough for the next few days!

Beach Miles

Ran 5.2 miles on Monday evening, locally, and accompanied by my youngest and oldest sons (on their bikes). They kept my pace up, which is plus. But the biggest plus is putting time on my feet and being with family at the same time. The oldest, who is much used to putting in miles and working hard, handled the miles on his bike no problem. My youngest though, on his way back Highway One, threw his bike down and collapsed in the grass. “No, more,” he said. I had to do some persuading to get him going again.  Part of the agreement was that I walk his bike back the remaining half mile. My pleasure!!

Another good thing about beach runs is there’s plenty of these! (No need to carry fluids )

The troopers: