Wandering

I may have always been a  wanderer.  It’s been told more than once that my father lost me in a park when I was about two years old.  The fire department found me and brought me back to Dad.  I do not remember the event, but I’m pretty sure that I probably wandered away from my unsuspecting father.  I do things like that. 

I think it’s probably my parents who taught me to wander.  As a family, we often took day trips out to the coast, exploring different locations from San Diego to LA county.  We drove so many places -- to Tiajuana, the Sequoias, Solvang, Oregon and Seattle.   I remember bike rides that took us miles away from home.  And drives up to Azusa Canyon to collect aluminum cans that we turned in for cash to pay for Disney trips.   Often when we headed back from adventures, my parents drove surface streets exploring exotic neighborhoods (in places like Bel Air) on the way home.  It was not uncommon to hear, “I wonder where this road leads?”

In grade school and later, junior high and high school, I explored all the downtown buildings, including the living quarters above the stores.  They were dark, dingy and full of mystery. I met lots of interesting people and found strange hidden places.  I knew every park within walking distance, and all the side trails to get there.  I wandered into the empty storage rooms of the local library where I hung out during summer days.  I wandered into churches (as they always left their doors opened) and roamed alone through long hallways and curtained back stages.    I often walked aimlessly for hours.  I did the same thing on my bike, first a ten-speed, later a beach cruiser.  I wandered along creeks, lakes and reservoirs, parks and even construction sites.  Later in life, as a young adult, I was again wandering aimlessly for hours but behind the wheel of my car.  I drove into Los Angeles and roamed the streets of the city.  During all these wanderings (in my hometown no less!) I met my wanderer in crime (my future husband) and we wandered along the trails of central California’s coast, through Indian ruins in Arizona, caverns in New Mexico, among red rocks and meadows in Utah, and various other places in Colorado, Texas and Missouri.

Central California / Early 1980sSan Gorgonio Mountains / Mid 1980s

Wandering about “Old West” mines in Utah / late 1980s

Even during college, married and working a 40 hour week, I was wandering.  I’d lace up my tennis shoes and roam the city during my lunch breaks where I explored all the skyscrapers, riding their elevators to the top.  When we could, my husband and I were off on a road trip to explore new areas, or return to old ones in places like Utah and Texas.  When I “grew up” and had children of my own I was still a wanderer, strapping my boys into the stroller and spending entire mornings and afternoons wandering about the beaches and harbor in our beach town.  I guess it should come as absolutely no surprise to me then, that I eventually became a trail runner.  I mean, it seems a natural progression really.

Utah / early 1990s

More mines in Utah / early 1990s

Trails in Missouri / 1990s

Back in Utah mid to late 1990s

Roaming The Headlands in my hometown on a rainy day in the late 1990s

And here all along, through my aching feet and suffering these past few years, I’ve been clutching onto the “running” part, as if I let it go, I would lose who I am.  But I am not a runner.  Not really.  Don’t get me wrong.  I have loved running.  But running is just something that happened along while I roamed.  I am a wanderer.  And I can loosen my grip, hell I can completely let go of the running part if I need to.  I think I had forgotten that and have been caught up with the “running” part of trail running, when all along I just needed to explore new trails.   I can hike to wander, I can ride, I can drive.  It does not matter, any form can satisfy wanderlust.  With this new revelation, I have found once again my freedom.  I am free.  I can run or I can not run.  It does not matter either way, as long as I roam, as long as I wander.

Yesterday, I got out to do a little roaming in some of my regular stomping grounds.  I ran mostly, but I hiked too, and I did not fret about that.  It was just great to get out there and wander about. With about 6.5 miles and 1,000’ of elevation gained, I got in a lovely, cool and sometimes muggy run overlooking the Pacific Ocean.  It was glorious, and more than enough to qualify for a wandering. 

Do you like to wander?

Summer is Here

One way to make the heat in my local hills seem like nothing, I mean absolutely nothing,  is to run in Corona (Riverside county).  This of course I did last weekend.  Then, on Thursday, I hit the trails again.  This time in my normal stomping grounds, Aliso/Wood Canyons.  I took off for the trails during the afternoon precisely to get myself more accustomed to the heat.  It felt like a cool spring day compared to the treacherous heat in Corona.  It truly was a lovely summer day with blue skies, a hot sun and a semi-cool breeze. 

I stepped over a gopher snake in Aliso Canyon.  With its tail end sticking out of the brush, I could tell immediately he was not a rattler.  Then I turned into an empty Wood Canyon, empty because few venture out into these canyons during the afternoon in the summertime.  About two and a half miles in, I hopped over Wood Creek onto Mathis and made a quick turn onto Coyote Run.  Coyote Run meanders in and out of deep shade, where I stopped to take in the beauty and fully cool down. 

Coyote Run Trail: 

From Coyote Run, I opted for the rigorous trail called Rock-It, duly named for its white rock floor.  Feeling stronger than I have in a long time, I took that trail to West Ridge.  On Rock-It I encountered my first people on these trails today – two different groups of hikers, 5 people total. 

Rock-It Trail:

Though it seemed relatively cool to me, I surmised that it was not so for others by the looks on their faces as I made my way up West Ridge to Top of the World.  And then as I progressed, a fire truck with lights swirling drove down the ridge, and after that two more emergency vehicles.  When I arrived to the Top of the World, I found a vantage point where I could see a rescue effort way down on Car Wreck Trail.  My best guess was that heat exhaustion had overcome a hiker along that steep, exposed trail.  I think this because there was no helicopter evacuation.  It seems like when someone is physically injured, say a broken leg or such, a helicopter transports the victim out of the canyons.  (I never heard what happened, but am hoping that no news means good news). 

Anyway, I closed up my loop by running down Meadows Trail, totaling 11.41 miles with 1,329’ of elevation gain.  I felt fine afterward.  However, my foot was wasted back at home.  I really am not sure what I am going to do about this.  I limped around all night, and woke this morning still in pain.  I skipped a run this morning, instead went for the gym membership.  I am stumped and a little dismayed.  Perhaps I will throw in the towel, get an MRI and take some months off.   I really am at odds about this.  Most of the time I am in denial and don’t think about what I should do.  But now, a calm has come over me, as I realize that the time is ideal to slow down and try to get healed. 

It Ain’t But One Hill

I “ran” Billy Goat’s 1/2 Marathon and Hill Climb on Saturday.  I typed “ran” in quotes because there was much hiking involved during the first 6.5 miles.  I don’t know why it was so dang tough –  just as the race director, Steve Harvey, promises, “it ain’t but one hill.”

That one hill is called Indian Truck Trail.  And it starts at the base of the mountains in Corona, California and climbs up, up, up to The Main Divide.  That “one hill” though quite strenuous, would have not been so bad if it weren’t for the heat.  It was hot out there in Riverside County on Saturday.  HOT.  And being as spoiled as I am living on the cool coast, my body just rebelled. 

The trip to the top was uneventful, meaning, I didn’t feel like I was going to die.  I took up the very back of the pack, noticing that nearly everyone suffered from the heat.  Boy was I ever happy to turn around and run downhill.  You see, there was little shade along Indian Truck Trail, so there was not much opportunity to cool off.

On the way down, I told myself to maintain between a 12 and 14 minute mile, which was asking a lot in the near 100 degree heat.  (I heard that it was 98 in the late morning).  This got so tough (keeping up the pace) that I resorted to song counting just to make the time pass quicker.  “You can’t look at the garmin until you listen to three songs,” I’d tell myself.  After a few miles, I felt that I would collapse if I did not slow down.  With absolutely no shade whatsoever for those last three miles, there was no relief.  I filled my cap with ice at the aid station, and aside from dripping salty water into my eyes, I’m not sure I noticed any difference.  Amazingly, I learned that the woman running alongside me for mile ten through eleven was 4 1/2 months pregnant!

Oh how immense my misery was!  Miles eleven though thirteen, I wanted nothing more than to drop to the mountain floor and pass out.  I felt nauseated and a little confused.  And the only thing that I could do to cool myself down was to stop running.  And this I did often.  Then out of frustration over time passing too slowly, I’d pick up my feet again and trot some more.   

I crossed the finish line with only a few runners remaining on the mountain.  Immediately I held onto the timing table, wanting to fall to the ground.  My blood was boiling, I felt so hot.  People were so kind and helpful getting me to a chair in the shade, where they waited on me hand and foot – I got cups of cold water, ice on my neck, you name it.  Within about a half hour, my blood had stopped boiling and I was feeling almost back to normal.  Billy Goat is an event that I’m glad I finally got out to do – but I can’t put up with that kind of hellish misery anymore.  My God, why do I do this to myself? 

Not Summer Yet

Gym day yesterday, I was back on the trails late this morning.  I opted for a medium sized loop in Aliso and Wood Canyons.   I ran first through Aliso Canyon, turned off onto Wood Canyon Trail and made the first quick left onto Meadows.  Meadows is roughly 1.5 miles long, with the first half mile being relatively flat – exposed, but flat.  The remaining mile, still exposed, is a switchback with quite a climb, not quite brutal, but tough indeed.

 

Though we were socked-in back at my house – the sun shined brightly in the canyons.  The marine layer hovered just offshore, hiding the Pacific Ocean.  My view from Top of the World was misty.  And I got some cool breezes because it’s not quite summer yet.  

I struggled to pick up my speed for the last 4 miles of this 9.5 mile run.  The run down Mathis, though downhill, was still tough – a good heat training trick, since there is absolutely no shade.  I figured that if I averaged a better pace than normal, I’d have enough time to get some grocery shopping done before tending to the rest of my day.  I managed that, but it came at a price.  Not talking about the standard prices, like eyes stinging from sweat and some overheating (got that though too).  I’m talking about that dang foot trouble.  Oh well.  I went off to my afternoon meeting with a limp, then got so busy for the rest of the day, that I neglected to stretch and take care of the foot.  Doh!  I guess I could still do it tonight before I go off to bed.  But I probably won’t.  At the very least, I will tape. 

9.42 miles, 1,164’ elevation gain