Dirt Tastes A Whole Lot Better Than Pavement

Overslept for a 6AM run (because I need an hour or so before heading off for a long run), I finally made it out the door 6:22. I looked forward to this twenty mile run, not really wondering if I could do it, because I knew that I could. Actually, compared to the trails, I figured it would be a cinch. In the midst of our usual end-of-August heat wave, I carried a handheld for water, with several electrolyte tablets packed in the strap for refills along the way. Good thing. Can you believe it was already warm at 6:30 in the morning? Not just warm, but muggy.

On the way down PCH I met an out of town trail runner who asked for directions to the beach. I told her, as well as, what I thought would be about a five mile run. We joyfully compared the trail to the road, the trail of course so much funner. And I ended by pointing to my scabbed knee with a comment about falling on the trail.

At least I won't have to worry about that on the road!

This is how I progress my way through long runs: I break it into portions or "legs". And I work on just one leg at at time.

Leg One (5.28 Miles)
Leg one started off great, meeting a fellow trail runner as mentioned, I looked forward to some nice solitude, good music. And then . . . AND THEN (I practically weep thinking about it), I FELL! I actually tripped on a sidewalk crack and plummeted forward. I hit that sidewalk hard, knee landing first, and then I rolled to the left (instead of my usual right, I suppose because I held my water in my right hand). All the while, cars whizzed by.

Well, I was pissed. I mean, damn angry, grumbling profanities beneath my breath. How could this happen? I wasn't even running downhill. Scab blown off, my knee bled afresh. After cleaning it with an antibacterial wipe, I applied an over-sized band-aid and put my feet to the pavement, and continued running.

There are differences between falling on dirt versus falling on pavement. First off, pavement DOES NOT MOVE. There's no give whatsoever. That makes for a much harder impact. Also, when I fall on the trail, dirt completely covers my wounds, pretty much stopping the bleeding immediately.

Anyway, there was a dead duck on the sidewalk after that. And the air smelled of gasoline as I made my way inland. Occassionally, glass littered the way. And here and there a single sock laid in the gutter or in the landscaped planters. When the climbing began, I ran it stoically, never stopping (because these beach city hills, though steep, are nothing compared to say, Mathis or Cholla in Wood Canyon). Then toward the city's high point, I noticed a thin rope tied across the sidewalk, attached to a street sign. What the heck? Up a ways, another rope taut across the sidewalk.

The downhill was no thrill for me. My bandage saturated in blood, I moved on through this leg to a paved path that led me down to the city's northern most beach. Plenty of hikers made their way down this trail, which about half way posted a sign that read "Trail Closed -- DANGER of slide." I let my mind wander, thinking about my life, still angry about my knee, my shirt now irritating me as it rode up my waist. And then suddenly, a feeling of despair overcame me. "Don't think, don't think," I told myself. JUST RUN. And so, I kept on running, because I really had no choice as far as I was concerned. Besides that, Leg One's end was in sight.

Leg Two (1.94 miles)
I ran out under PCH to begin Leg Two. Plenty of runners made their way along this beachside path. Not a breeze stirred as I began another climb that ended running beneath the highway for a flight of stairs up to the apartment complex that my husband and I lived in for many years. (memories) From there I made another climb up the same hill I ran down a few miles earlier. I looked to the trees, desperate for air movement. Not a leaf stirred.

Leg Three (2.65 miles)
This leg began on a downhill, back toward the sea. The bloodied bandage weighed on my mind, and my shirt irritated me so terribly, I was about to rip it in two when I decided on a four block detour (8 total for a round trip) to head home for a new shirt and clean bandage.

Back on the road, more comfortable in my favorite green, snagged-up shirt, I ran through the town center where vendors set up today's market. It smelled of bell peppers, onions, nectarines and all sorts of wonderful produce. Few buyers strolled about at this early hour.

I crossed PCH once again and ran to the cliff that overlooks the harbor. The air was still. But my spirits now lifted with a new shirt and clean bandage, I ran down the stairway for a gorgeous run on the historic cliff side trail to end with another stairway back to the road. And then I was back again, running down the same highway, toward the same beaches I told the women how to get to a few hours earlier.

Leg Four (3.86 miles)
This phase was the longest, mentally, and the hottest, yet the flattest portion of the run. It was mainly on asphalt where I ran through a crowded campground that smelled of campfires and cigarette smoke. I ran the straightaway, the waves to my right unseen because of RV after RV parked against the sand.

When the sidewalk ended and I made that last turn around, I was not physically tired, but mentally so.

Leg Five (4.36 miles)
Finally! The beauty of the run! Shade!!! I ran up to the jetty, a multitude of long boarders off to my left waiting for that perfect wave. An actual breeze blew as I made my way through the crowded wharf, restaurants full of morning diners. People lined the sidewalk for day long fishing trips. Several other runners made their way alongside the marina's still waters, very few smiling. It was hot!

Leg Six( 2.44 miles)
Portion six ended coming off the island, where I ran past the marine institute to the cliffs that tower above the small beach there. Tide was high, the surf rather calm. And then it was homeward bound with one last hill to climb, which I ran confidently, all the way back home.

Well, that's enough of the road for now!

Trails, take me away.

Miles logged this morning: 20.53

Falls to date: 8 (But who's counting?)

ps. Back at home I asked my husband, "What's the matter with me? Why so many falls?"

He responded, "Didn't your family used to call you 'Grace' when you were a kid?"

(Well, first of all, I was never a goat, but . . . ) Oh ya, that's right. I almost forgot: I'm a clutz. Okay . . . I feel better now.

All is well in the world. : )

Nice N' Easy

I've been semi-secretly toying with the idea of running another marathon this October. Shhhhhhh! Don't tell anyone. Like I said, I'm just toying with the idea. In deciding, I set aside one day this weekend for a long solo road run, just to see how it goes : ) And not wanting to push my weekly miles up too quickly, this morning I decided for a nice n' easy run.

I set out LATE, 8:18 AM to be exact. I ran straight down to the coast, hoping for some relief from this heat. What I got was humidity along the still marina waters. But what I also got was giant waves crashing down on the jetty rocks, sending splashes rocketing before spectators at the cliffs. Uneven sets of harsh waves rolled in, one after the other, white water dominating the first fifty yards or so of the ocean. An untamed sea gobbled up the tiny beach there at my turnaround. What an awesome, fierce sight! And I was off again . . .

Careful not to put in very many miles, I plowed up the big hill home. Just once I found my hands on my hips, which I promptly flung away to pick up my pace some back to Highway One. My family used to me being away for hours when I run, my husband laughed when I came through the door. "What'd you run, 100 yards?"

Nope.

Miles logged this morning: 4.32

Number of other runners on the road: 12

On the Road Again

The morning after Bulldog, I crawled out of bed aching from head to toe. This was no ordinary worked-out-too-hard ache. This was a slammed-hard-to-the-ground-on-a-downhill-run ache. It felt as if I had been in a car accident. My arms, my chest, my legs hurt. Everything hurt. Even my fingers ached from digging out tiny pebbles beneath the skin.

Day two I felt much better, though opted for another day of rest. Day three -- time to get back to the trail. I couldn't wait, though I could have easily slept in when the alarm rang at 5:20 AM. After two short days, I felt like I was missing out. I wanna run!! (Or do I? Am I crazy or what?) And so, Tuesday, 6:30 AM, a camelback strapped to my back, a cell phone and camera, plus a couple pieces of gum in my belt, I hit the dirt running, headed for Top of the World with Tom and Luis.

The weather cool, the skies cloudy, almost misty, we took Aliso Creek Trail to Wood Canyon -- chatting along the way, laughing, taking in a lovely breeze, shady groves, and a nice wide, flat trail. Before we knew it, we hit a wall of hot air, and that's just about when the climb began and the sun shined through. I told Tom and Luis to go on ahead, that they'd have time to rest at the top, because I was going to take a while. But I did run every step of that steep trail named Cholla, and it was even slightly, so slightly easier than it has been before (thank you Bulldog!)

From there we took the ridge (Westridge), a rolling hill adventure, with two rather difficult pieces (one of which Luis sprinted!). At Top of the World, the marine layer gone made for a gorgeous view, as well as a photo-op (lest I forget). We took one of my favorites, my first favorite trail actually, Mathis Trail, on the way down -- what a delight to just run a downhill, no racers breathing down my back (though there's a place for that too : ).

In all we ran 11.63 wonderful miles, arriving back at the ranger station ready for the start of a brand new day.

Running Westridge, Looking towards Santa Ana Mountains

Tom, Me and Luis (Laguna Beach in background)

Tom catches Gopher Snake on the way in to ranger station

Bulldog 25K

“That’s the only way to do it – go. When there’s a jungle waiting, you go through it and come out clean on the far side. Because if you struggle to back out, you get all snarled, and afterwards the jungle is still there, still waiting.”

Peter Mattheissen, At Play in the Fields of the Lord.

I woke at the ridiculous hour of 3:45 AM, after dreaming, it seemed all night long, that I was sitting in the bleachers, waiting to compete in a “marathon” swim. Suddenly, I realized that I didn’t know how race dive anymore, or at least wasn’t sure if I could. And so I fretted, waiting my turn, trying to sleep, conjuring up ways that I could make up for a poor dive, etc., etc., until my cell phone alarm went off and I lay in bed wondering, “Okay, what day is it, where am I supposed to go?”

BULLDOG.

That’s where I’m supposed to go!

I headed out at 4 AM, gear bag in hand, coffee thermos in the other. Then at the door the thermos handle broke and my coffee fell to the hardwood floor. My husband was quick to aid, and fortunately I had plenty coffee remaining when I finally hit the road at 4:10 AM. (But as usual, the day started off as an adventure!)

I drove the entire distance under darkness and arrived in Calabasas at the local Albertsons where I picked up fellow club runner, Larry. And then of all things, we got a first row parking space, directly in front of bib pick-up.

In an attempt to condense this blog down from TWENTY-FIVE pages, here’s a few things up front:

1) I changed my mind last minute and went with my standard, oldest pair of trail shoes (New Balance), though I packed the Salomons in case I changed my mind again.
2) The weather was cool and cloudy (Glory be to God!)
3) The freeways were empty and I made it to Calabasas in just under 90 minutes
4) My goal for this tough 25k was three hours, though I knew that would be difficult with such steep climbs, in the back of my mind, I knew that 3 hours would have to be the best trail run I’d ever ran.
5) And finally, I planned to run straight through the creek and not worry about balancing over rocks.

Anyway, I felt strong for a good long while – nice flat entrance on this Bulldog 25k course – perhaps 3 to 4 miles of quick, yet comfortable pace, gorgeous warm-up. It was wide roads, then rocky single track just off the stream. Some time after all that, the climb began and I came upon the first aid station. Water, sports drinks, pretzels, saltine crackers, and candy a plenty awaited us. I took a handful of Skittles, chewed down and sucked on the wad of sugar as I plowed up, up, up towards the peak of the Santa Monica Mountains that overlook Malibu. The climb so steep, it wasn’t long before everyone around me was walking.

Making our way in

Remnants of M.A.S.H. television series set

Climbing . . .

I had some rules for this most difficult portion of the race:

1) No hands on the hips. I put my hands on my hips, it means I’m resting – BIG TIME. Hands on the hips means I lose arm momentum, and going up that steep trail, I need all the momentum I can get!
2) Haul ass on any and all flat portions – that means run fast!
3) Make it to aid station #2 within 1 ½ hours
4) And finally PUSH – not matter what! Even on the steepest of climbs – push, push, push!.

I kept a keen eye on my watch and about an hour twenty minutes in, knew I wasn’t making aid station #2 within my time limit. I kept trying though, and when I got weak, my mantra was “push, push, push . . . “ I kept those arms going and even chatted a bit with other runners on the way up. Then finally, I saw aid station 2 in sight and though I was over my time limit, I raised my arms in victory as I ran down to it. One hour forty minutes it took to arrive to this destination. And even running a bit over time, I called my husband to tell him the news, and I stood in line for the porta-pottys (Gosh, I hate that!!)

Yahoo!!! Aid Station Two

Leaving Aid Station Two

There’s still a climb after that second station, a beautiful, sandstone climb overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Though cloudy somewhat, the Pacific provided a grand view. I spotted a blimp off in the distance. I snapped a few pictures, but at some point I tucked the camera away for good, because I knew I had lots of time to make-up for a 3 hour finish. There were more climbs to make, which I took rather well, power walking some of them, running others.

Awesome Stuff

And then the grand descent began. And what fun it was. I passed some who walked, others who ran it cautiously. Downhill is what I’m practiced at, and this was a nice, wide fire road, for a whole 2 miles. It was beautiful, and I wore a broad smile as I made my way down, relishing music from my ipod.

Just towards the end of this nice wide downhill, I caught a glimpse of the boy’s detention center (where my final ascent would be) and I thought looking at my watch, there’s a very slight chance I could make my time. But . . . after another uphill climb, I fell light-headed and my right leg began cramping. So I downed some Gu. The calories seemed to help my weakness, though the cramping persisted as I ran, reaching back to massage my right calf.

Then off onto the downhill single track I ran. It was thin, and rocky, a few runners ahead and a few runners behind, I took it rather quickly, giddy for the end of this 25k. And then . . . I’m not precisely sure what happened. Perhaps my leg cramped again, or perhaps I simply tripped. All I really know is that on a pretty good descent, I flew and landed hard on the rocky terrain. And when I hit, my body cramped all at once. I scared the lovely lady in front of me, as she turned back to see me sprawled out on my back (I didn’t land on my back, when I hit I rolled.) She ran back to help, as well as, the two or three others behind. They hovered over me, “Are you alright? What can we do?” My hands were bleeding, as was my knee. But I knew nothing was broken. I just had to get out of this body cramp! I wanted to say, “Can you rub my leg to get this cramp gone?” But I didn’t dare ask strangers for such a favor. However, I couldn’t reach my calf myself, because even after sitting up, my body was still full-on, stiff in a cramp. Then one of the gals asked, “Can I help you up?” I gladly responded, “Why, yes you can.” and couldn’t tell them enough how nice they were – they after all took several minutes off their time to help me. Standing up, I was able to reach down and massage my right leg. And one of the ladies gave me an electrolyte pill for the cramping. I was off and running before it even took effect (which it did several minutes later) and at the next aid station I took time to thoroughly wash my hands to make sure I didn’t have any gaping injuries.

At that point I still had too much to traverse to make my time. But I kept on running. I was thinking, “okay, 3 hours ten minutes . . . “ The cramping now gone, I still felt okay, but quite tired. The scenery lush and shady, I ran on through the single track passing runners here and there, despite aching hands and bloody knee. When I came to the stream, I by-passed the line of people waiting to cross over the most opportune rocks. I plowed right through that water, causing an uproar of laughter from those who cautiously crossed to avoid wet feet.

Wet, muddy shoes, I made that last uphill at a fast pace, running when I could, power-walking the rest. A few runners passed me, running amazingly strong. And when I could look down at the boy’s detention center, I felt great relief. Home was just around the corner. A woman behind me exclaimed about then, “Oh my gosh! Did you fall?” I laughed and said that I did, and that nothing was broken, so all was well. “What’s a trail run without a good fall?” I joked. (She laughed and agreed).

I was dead, dead-dog tired. Though flat, the last bit of this Bulldog race was tough for me. Still, I ran it all the way in. I didn’t make my 3 hour limit, but after the initial disappointment, I’m happy about my performance. (Someone called out 3:21 when I crossed the finish line – don’t have official standings yet)

Crossing Finish Line

That’s quite a trail race! Be sure that I’ll be back next year to try for 3 hours once again.

So Happy to be done!

Larry, fully rested after coming in at 2 hrs twenty something minutes!

Kilometers logged today: 25 (just under 16 miles)
Injuries: a bruise, 4 small cuts on the hands, 1 swollen and scabbed knee
Body completely crusted with salt, arms, legs and face filthy but . . . Toes aching: ZERO!

And the tally shows . . .Total number of falls-to-date: 7

Not Much Else I Can Do . . .

Does everyone get this anxious before a hard race? Every race is “hard” I suppose, but there are those special ones that are excruciatingly difficult for me. Obviously, Bulldog is one of them. Even the name sounds too tough for me. BULLDOG – I better watch it, or that thing will bite my ass off.

Well, I've done all that I can do at this point. My left foot toes are in better shape, though not completely pain free. I’ve been resting, or cross training rather, and have been soaking my feet in Epsom salt. I’m wearing a brace on my right knee, overkill for the slight ache I felt this afternoon. Sound crazy? I’m sure it does. I’ve also been wearing the trail shoes that I’m pretty sure I’m wearing for Bulldog, all day, every day this week, so that they feel like they’re part of me, an extension, not just a pair of shoes. (And I’m still packing my old faithful trail shoes, just in case I change my mind at the last minute – which I did the last time, the first time I ran the Bulldog trail back in May ’09 – Xterra 22k).

I’m promising to sleep in as late as I can tomorrow, which will probably mean, that I’ll first wake at 6:30, then go back to sleep and wake at 7:30 and force myself to stay in bed. Wouldn’t it be wonderful, if just for tomorrow I could sleep in until 9 or 10? Chances are slim. Regardless, Friday is set aside for complete rest, except for an hour drive out to my parents and back, and a few, very few chores around the house. (Friday’s bedtime is set for 9 PM at latest)

I’ve already got everything I need for the race in one bag. The ipod is loaded and charged, sunscreen, sunglasses, hat, etc., etc., all there. Tomorrow I will ceremoniously sort through my stuff, pack my belt, fill my camelback, select socks, undergarments, shorts, shirt . . . I’ve been looking over the map, coming up with strategies, time schedules. I even spent time today viewing Bulldog clips on the internet – how fun, I thought to myself, I can’t wait. But then again, it was kind of a “dread” sort of “can’t wait.”

Does that make sense?

There’s not much else I can do at this point,

Except . . .

Dream, dream, dream.

My favorite Trails in Wood Canyon

My last run before Bulldog, I posted an approximate 8 mile run through Wood Canyon -- or so I thought. I was kinda guessing, based on other runs. Turns out I was short a bit, two miles short.

I chose my three favorite trails to run with this morning's group of five. The first one (which we arrived via Wood Canyon Trail) was Dripping Cave. There's some climbing on this trail, but nothing like running to Top of the World. The best part of the trail of course is the actual cave, and that downhill back to Mathis where the vegetation along the single track grows taller than me. And then there's Coyote Run, which I've described in detail many times -- that enchanted trail that starts and ends just above the creek. And then lastly, my newest favorite trail -- Wood Creek. We ran it backwards this time. Ha! We didn't actually run backwards. I mean, we ran it in the opposite direction than I've ran it before. It's a gorgeous, thick groved trail, off the beaten path with no bike traffic. When I run it alone, I blast through half a dozen spider webs along the way. Today, Larry took the lead, so he got that pleasure, I'm sure.

Still not certain which shoes to wear for Bulldog, I wore the Salomons today for another test run. And then I stepped through the stream to see how they handled wet. Because when I come to the stream crossing at Bulldog, I'm probably not going to balance myself over the rocks -- I'm going to run straight through. The shoes did well wet (and I even wore them for a few hours after the run to make good and sure they kept their comfort -- if that makes any sense!)

Anyway, we ended with only six miles. At Wood Canyon's final Kiosk, Tom was raring to go up Cholla and back. But in the end, he couldn't get any takers. Perhaps he missed the heavy duty climbing from his "flat" week last week.

Well, like a broken record (remember those, when the record used to skip and play the same note again and again?), I couldn't let this cool morning run on my favorite trails pass without another group photo. Sorry folks, I'll try to ease up on that a bit. But I really enjoyed the run and the company, and this picture will put it down in posterity.

Miles logged this morning: 6

Tom, Me, Sheila, Luis, Larry