Starting Over

Starting over sucks. It really, really sucks. I'm not relishing the "fresh start" aspect of starting over. Not one bit. Instead, it's mainly grueling, struggling, hard-as-hell pain trying to get the running back. There's pretty much nothing worse than trying to run when your legs feel like lead, and your body says, "Nope, I forbid you to run.”  

For the past month and a half, I have been trying to get my running back. For a while there, I felt like an elephant trying to run. It was very difficult to get back out there again and again, especially after a tough day of three miles!! I put in short distances, first mainly on the road, which gradually lead to trails with some descent elevation gain. Unfortunately, there is little enjoyment.

The only thing that makes this starting over bearable is: 1) I'm not really starting over from scratch. When I first began running in my late thirties, I could not even run a block without practically falling to the ground with my heart exploding, and 2) I know I can do this, because I've done it before -- all it takes is patience and perseverance. That’s simple enough I suppose.

A month and a half ago, I started with distances like 1.5 to 2 miles (in 100 degree Texas weather). I had hoped that my gym workouts would keep me conditioned because I never stopped those. I am here to tell you that those gym workouts did not keep me running conditioned. But I suppose it could have been worse. I am now up to 8 miles of hilly terrain. And that's about as tough as a 50k used to be.

My goal is to get to twenty miles of difficult terrain by the end of January. That's three months. I can probably do it. Actually, I know I can do it. Question is, will I have the perseverance?

Texas Running:

Coordinating Volunteers for Saddleback Goat Marathon:

Wood Canyon:

Working Holy Jim AS @ Twin Peaks 50/50:

Safari (Water Drop) in The Cleveland National Forest:

Top of the World:

Catching Up

Running has nearly come to a halt, a screeching halt.  Though I still have a couple trips out there that have not been blogged. The foot is better, but not at all healed.  I am fine to put in around five to seven miles, but afterward, I am limping about for the rest of the day and into the next.  It is what it is, and I am learning to live with the disappointment.   

First, to catch up with the end of August:

The 20th, I believe it was, I drove my truck with my friend Emmett to the Trabuco Trail head.  We left super early in the morning to avoid the heat, and we made a trek up Trabuco Trail and then the dreaded West Horsethief to the Main Divide for an out-and-back totaling about seven miles. The trip up Horsethief wasn’t so bad mainly because I had mentally prepared myself for pure hell.  When I expect hell, it’s never as bad.  Emmett made it up to the top well before me.  Then he gave me a five minute head start for the trip down, which was down right treacherous.  Fist sized rocks rolled beneath my feet, as ground fell away here and there as my foot hit.  I worried when Emmett hadn’t caught up by the time I hit Trabuco Trail.  Turns out that he took a couple of nasty falls.  That trail is extremely difficult to keep a foothold.  It’s scary too, because a fall could throw you off the mountain.

Somehow my SD card got corrupted and I lost all of the awesome pictures I took of our trip (boo hoo!! I lost the selfie pics of me and Emmett), but I did have these two gems from my phone camera:

Going up W. Horsethief, looking out toward the Pacific Ocean (which is beneath the clouds) and Yaeger Mesa which is about mid photo on the left:

Coming down W. Horsethief, near the top @ The Main Divide:

About a week later, I got in another 7 mile trip in Aliso/Wood Canyons.   This time, I decided to start at the top of the park instead of in the canyon like I usually do.  I parked my truck at Moulton Meadows in Laguna Beach and in a trepid manner made my way down another treacherous decline – this one called Mentally Sensitive.  A rattlesnake caught me by surprise on that tiny single-track.  But I noticed it in time to steer clear and even catch a photo.  After reaching Wood Canyon, I took that trail to Mathis, which is a nice climb out back to the ridge. On the ridge I spotted my second rattler, and was able to snap another snake photo. 

Some scenes from my last summer trail run:

Toward the top of Mentally Sensitive:

Snake #1:

Looking down from West Ridge onto Laguna Canyon Road:

Snake #2:

Caught up.  Now I can rest easy.

Crushing Fatigue

For several months now I have been been feeling lethargic, and growing more so lately.  I have no motivation to do anything that requires too much exertion.  Though I train at the gym about five days a week, I can’t manage to move very quickly or for very long.  It’s a big bummer, more so I think, because this fatigue affects me mentally.  I feel weak.  And I hate that.  Hate it! 

I decided recently to research premenopausal symptoms, as I have the joy of going through that the past six months or so.  And while I did not find the term lethargy in my research, I did come across the terms “extreme fatigue” and “crashing fatigue,” as common symptoms.  Aha!  I guess that makes me feel a little better.  At least there’s an apparent reason to my lethargy.  But the more I throw the terms around in my mind, the more “CRUSHING fatigue” seems to fit my what I’m experiencing -- it’s crushing my physical and mental well-being, it crushes my spirit.  

This past Sunday evening, I decided to get out and just force myself to put in some trail miles.  I took a little run along West Ridge to Top of the World, which isn’t exactly flat.  And I must say, I felt pretty miserable in the beginning.  Actually, I never really felt “good” in the sense of feeling physically or mentally strong.  Once I decided that it did not matter what time I finished, that it was okay to finish in the dark however, I did enjoy the coastal scenes, the gentle off-shore breezes and little evidences of wildlife like bunnies scurrying across the road and stink bugs sticking their heads in the dirt.  I hiked some, and I ran some.  My legs felt like heavy awkward boards when I ran.  They felt a little lighter when I hiked.  I guess it would be prudent to take on something with not so much elevation during this “crushing fatigue” period.  But I can’t help it.  I’m just an elevation junkie.  

Unmarked Trails, Pink Clouds and Coyotes

Thursday evening I took off for a short run into Wood Canyon.  I really had no final intention on a destination, except for the fact that I knew I’d do between five and six miles.  Anymore than that, I’d be running in the dark, which is not such a big deal, else a ranger stumble upon me and write out a citation. 

The weather was pleasantly cool, as it has been lately during our mild weathered August.  The trails, though not crowded, had more runners and hikers than I’m used to travelling upon them.  I’m seldom out on the trails in the evening though. 

I wore my pf sock (a short compression sock) that helped immensely with my foot pain (either that or my foot is actually improving – I can never tell).  A little over two miles in, running along West Ridge, which overlooks Laguna Canyon Road and the Pacific Ocean, I stopped to snap a photo and noticed something I had never seen before.  There off two my right, only slightly obscured by brush, was a heavily travelled, unmarked single-track that descended down the ledge into Laguna Canyon.  I do not know how I never saw this.  I can tell you that my heart leapt with joy. Seriously.  There is almost nothing better than travelling along a trail that I have never before travelled, even if its practically in my own backyard. 

I descended quickly down this newly discovered single-track.  I don’t mean that I moved quickly, I mean the elevation loss occurred quickly, and oh happy day, I needed to kneel down and slide in some instances, to make the grade.   

Going down on this newly discovered trail:

I could see a large dog park down at the base of the trail, though I wasn’t sure exactly where I would come out.  I told myself, “a little further,”  . . . “just a little further,” until I decided that I needed to head back.  I didn’t want the climb out to be so difficult that it would leave me out in the canyon under darkness.  And so I headed back up, gleefully mind you, grabbing at the rocks to pull myself up along the trail.  It was beautiful.  I never even noticed any problems with my foot. 

The sun was still slightly above the horizon as I ran along West Ridge.  Coyotes began to howl down in the canyon. And hikers seemed all headed in the direction to leave the park.  At the last minute, I decided not to run down Cholla Trail, the one I came up on out of Wood Canyon.  I pretty much always take Cholla.  But dang it, I’m bored of that trail, so I headed down Lynx instead, a less popular trail in these canyons, though I’m not sure why. 

Lynx is a wonderful rocky single-track, technical, but not death defying.  There’s even a bullet-ridden car in the gully, hidden to the casual visitor.  But if you stand in just the right place, you get a perfect shot of the old-fashioned, shiny, blue car. 

When I finally dumped out into Wood Canyon, every cloud in the sky was colored pink.  As I ran back up the canyon toward my car, coyotes, many of them on both sides of the canyon barked and howled as the sun finally set on this lovely trail run.  It was the dogs’ turn for the canyons.