The Ultra-Adventures of a Painfully Normal Girl

August 7, 2010

PNG vs The Trail to Nowhere

A little over a week to go until the epic hiking of Mt Whitney, Josh and I decided to do a "training hike". Previously, he found a 15 miler that looked interesting. Oh, ignorance is such bliss...

Despite an alarm clock malfunction (operator error), we woke up only 45 minutes after we intended. We breakfasted and checked our gear before heading out. The drive to the Dripping Springs Campground was shorter than I was expecting. We parked grabbed packs and trekking poles and walked through the campground in search of Agua Tibia and through more campground to some more campground. Ah-ha finally the trail head materialized ahead of us.

The ascent began with all the promise of a new day. We set off at an ambitious pace, determined to get some good training in. It was not particularly difficult although my lungs protested a bit due to a newly spawned cold. The trail winded around in a series of switchbacks and the growing temperature was more noticeable on the eastern side. We passed a lone hiker on his way down. The view of Vail lake was more stunning with each switchback. Even the rugged southern California vegetation painted the scenery in its own beautiful way. We stopped every now and then to examine the Marah macrocarpus or a dead tarantula or whatever else piqued our fancy.

The trailed opened up as we crossed a saddle. From there things began to go downhill; unfortunately not literally as we began climbing again. The vegetation slowly grew thicker crowding the trail more and more. It was insidiously slow at first, so we didn't notice. The buzzing of the bugs invaded the serene crunching of footsteps.

As we broke into a large clearing we examined an abandoned campsite. And then the pain began. We were required to bushwhack through overgrown brush using our hiking poles and battered arms to push on. On one section of the trail, the brush created a canopy over the trail while still spreading its angry limbs across our path. It was impossible to stand up straight and even the sun was having a difficult time getting through. Pfsssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssst. Oh shit! As Josh jumped back, I froze dead in my tracks. Having never heard that sound in real life, I still knew exactly what we had stumbled across. A rattlesnake. Josh somewhat forcefully addressed the equally startled snake, "Hey there guy, we were making a lot of noise; how about a little warning." I mumbled, "He's warning us now."

This last 1.5 mile was extremely slow going as the hostile plant life tore at every exposed inch of skin. Fly buzzed annoyingly close as though laughing as us for pushing forward. Dead trees strewn across the trail instituted a mean game of over/under, snagging any loops in our gear.

I hated stopping because my body felt worse than when I was moving and my lungs screamed at the tail end of every deep breath, similar to the feeling after an entire day spent swimming as a kid. But continuing on was equally as horrible, but Josh stubbornly refused to let the trail beat us. Onward.

Then then there it was, the climax of our struggles, the end of the trail...nowhere albeit 3000 feet higher than the start of our tribulation. There was no view, no actual end to the trail. There was a dead tree wedged among some rocks. Good a place as any to enjoy our lunch. Sigh. Josh downed two bologna and cheese sandwiches, a granny smith apple, two cookies and some reeses pieces. I, on the other hand, had 3/4 of a peanut butter and honey sandwich and two cookies. On the hike up, I tested my Infinit formula. It is a magical powder of carbs, protein, salt, and electrolytes that is a replacement for gels, bars, salt pills, etc and is formulated for me specifically. It worked like a charm. That was the easiest part of the hike.

The long we sat there, the longer I thought about the journey back down and the less I wanted to start. But alas, it was time to go. Josh was already out of water but I still had almost 100 oz. The first 2 miles was just as overgrown as I remembered but it didn't seem as traumatic this time. As the trail cleared, so did my mood. I began to sing and joke around. "Day 22 of the expedition. The fearless leader ______'s down the mountain. We are down to just two." It sounded great in my head, but when I said it out loud, I forgot that one word. I had the perfect one selected. But after 3 attempts, I figured it was lost for good. "The sweltering sun drained every oz of moisture within our bodies."

With 4.38 miles to go, I was done. My fun meter was pegged. We were both trapped silently within our own minds attempting to reserve all energy and summon enough motivation for forward motion. The pain rotated from my hips down my legs briefly flirting with my knees and finally rested in my feet. The toes on my left feet bore the brunt of the pain. I developed blisters on the insides of my heels (perhaps I need to use different shoes and socks). I longed to stop but knew that it would get me no closer to the bottom. The miles were ticking down agonizingly slow. I ran out of water but finally we had less than a mile to go. 1/2 a mile later I realized my mistake. We were going 15 miles to get to the campground. nooooooooooooo! 1/2 a mile later I realized that I had not started my watch right away when we started back down so my first estimation was closer to correct. whew!

Eventually, we stumbled onto the blacktop of the campground road. I fell prostrate and kissed it. My next act was to shun my offending shoes and socks. The barefoot walk to the car was glorious! 16.3 miles complete. Trekking poles, Infinit, and pack worked great.

It was an exciting experience that I don't wish to relive soon, so I will not be going back to that trail for a looong time.

July 28, 2010

PNG vs Desert (i.e. heat training)

Today dawned early, as we headed to East County for the first Lost Boys 50 miler course preview. Yea, all my stories made Josh think that this trail running thing is awesome. Today was not the day to prove this.

Because the start of the run was down in the Anza Borrego desert, it seemed to take forever to drive out there. Immediately, I swung the car door open to stretch my legs, and I was greeted by a wave of very warm air. It was going to be a hot one. Yea, yea, we were running in the desert in the middle of the summer. It has been two years since I have experienced real heat and I was not prepared.

My first order of business upon arrival was to find the perfect bush as I had been focusing on hydration during the drive. After the rapid bladder evacuation, I signed the roster, which was to ensure that no one was left out on the trail.

The run started like all other runs with a path of lemmings trotting along the trail. Slowly the line strings out and you begin loosing contact with human civilization. Soon we entered Box Canyon. I forgot how hard it was to run in sugar sand. Your back and leg muscles have to work overtime just to propel you forward. Josh was struggling too. In order to get the momentary relief and illusion of solid ground, I would bound off random large rocks in the middle of the trail. As soon as we crossed the S-2 and began heading towards the infamous Oriflamme, the run became more of a walk/hike with a few short burst of running.

The truck with the water/ice refills got stuck in the loose sand, and a large part of the group had stopped to get it unstuck, so we caught up to them. The brief reprieve of chatting with other runners in the shade, heeding nature's call, and checking hydration levels somehow made what we were doing seem normal.

As we drew near Oriflamme Canyon, the runner-eating mountain slowly loomed into view from around the corner, and before my turn around point of 4.5 miles, I paused. The mountain and I had a one-way conversation. I told it that I WILL be back and I WILL conquer it, mark my words. We go way back to March and my first ultra, Oriflamme 50K. I am determined to run it again, but this time without an injury.

The return trip was more painful. The desert was heating up quite rapidly and the longer I walked the less I wanted to start running again. The sun was evaporating the motivation right out of me just as it was evaporating the sweat. Somehow I was not paying attention to the orange ribbons marking the trail and we missed a turn. Many times, there is a portion of the trail that I fail to recognize on the return trip, but it is usually because the it looks quite different in the opposite direction. I fought the feeling for a bit but it was getting stronger, and finally I verbalized it. Through Josh’s amazing tracking skills (he noticed there were no footprints in the loose sand), we realized that we had in fact missed a turn. We backtracked and after a ½ mile detour, we were back on track.

Just as I was thinking that I couldn’t, wouldn’t run any more, Josh would burst into a 50-meter jog. I didn’t want to say anything because each time it would force me into running a bit more. I definitely did not feel dehydrated but my body did not feel right. I knew that I should feel hot and miserable and slightly dehydrated. I have recently learned how much better it feels to be hydrated, and now I focus on just that. Despite this, my body and mind just wasn’t responding as it was supposed to. I learned after the fact that towards the end, I was as pale as a ghost vice my normal beet red face. I can’t say that I ever really felt “bad” though.

We were the first ones back to the car since we did less than half the distance of most crazies out there. As we sat in the car with the air conditioning cranked up and recovering to some good music, Christine called. There was a couple that she had passed and the woman was hurting pretty bad. Christine herself had be out of water for and hour but did not seem to be in bad shape as she appeared from out of no where. Then she directed us to the troubled couple, so that we could drive them back to their car. Once again the air conditioning and some extra water worked wonders.

Everyone survived without major issues, but I don’t think that I will be attempting to run through the desert again without proper acclimatization. But, hey, it makes for a great story!

 February 20, 2010

PNG vs Trail Running (part 2): The Exploration of Bliss

Today I went running with the other Dirt Devils in our weekly Saturday ritual. The moisture saturated vegetation shone with a vibrant radiance of greens that ranged from white-green to the darkest shades of green interspersed with some firey reds and oranges. The greens stood out brilliantly against the once charred black bark of the trees. The dirt of the trail varied from the trademark brown/gray of mud to the yellow, corn meal-like sand. This peacock array of prancing colors contrasted against the gray overcast sky. In the distance, the mountains rose out of the vegetation in their own array of greens spotted with pale beige rock mounds. The tops were humbly shrouded in a veil of fog belying the voluptuous curves adorning them. Running along to the cadence of footsteps that were somewhere between a crunch and a squish with the occasional prolonged slooosh of a wayward foot sliding off in an unplanned direction. At certain times, the rushing of water added an unexpected melody. It was in this myriad of sensations that I found absolute bliss. It was a zen like calmness with a flutter of awe. There were moments when I would round a corner or crest a hill and stop dead in my tracks to imbibe the absolute beauty of it all. Trail running is definitely my thing, my niche. There is only one experience that can touch deeper into my soul (Josh).

Ok, so now I will explain how the run really was. The temperature was just around 50 degrees. As soon as we emptied out of the cars it began down pouring, and I could not stop shivering. I was unprepared for the rain but was not phased. Those of us who were ready, took off while the others were still gearing up. The first half mile was one of the most miserable experiences that I have had since I stopped running on roads. The cold raindrops pelting my unguarded head and face were painful in a cold, deep stabbing, aching pain. The pain soon subsided as I warmed up. For the remaining miles, the rain turned on and off sporadically and the wind picked up at times, but it only added positively to the experience. From the first puddle, my feet were as soaked as the rest of me. Every water crossing filled my shoes with sediment until I felt like I was running barefoot. A few times I had to empty my shoes because they got too heavy. As I rounded the last corner, all my thoughts turned to warm dry clothes, but then I saw it... an empty car. Two of my carpool-mates were still out on the trail to include the owner of the car with the keys. The two of us that were back piled into open cars to wait in dry, heated vehicles.

Like I said before you have to be crazy, but this is my bliss.

February 3, 2010

PNG vs Miramar's Murderous Marsh

Today I went on an exploration to discover if it is possible to run trail/trailish stuff on Miramar proper. The answer: yes and no.

First of all, I took off running before the sun was even a speck on the horizon. I knew that if I ran on the gravel or grass on the side of the road, I could eventually get to the opening in the vegetation on the side of the road that I swore I had glimpsed upon.

Unfortunately, I turned down a road too soon in my still half asleep stupor and the darkness of early morning. Well, I found a trail.? And then I lost a trail.? I still cannot say for certain that it was actually a trail or a hallucination. And although I was in the center of Miramar surrounded on all sides by familiar buildings, they had suddenly vaporized leaving only alien terrain and impending vegetation. I had fallen through the looking glass into wonderland.

The carpet was alternately crunchy and soft but always yet every step ended with my foot submerged in an inch of water eerily seeping into my shoes. The running stopped and the trudging began. I was surrounded by dried out cattails with the occasional frog's warning call off in the distance right next to me. The jet black shadow of a bird would swoop through the almost but not quite as black background. Each step more troubling than the step before as my mind spiraled into a place that no mind should go. The creatures awaiting me with every step went from indigenous wildlife to absurd creations of a nervous mind. At first, there were poisonous snakes of the southern California region and the always common ticks then a veritable microcosm of bacteria, spirilla, and excruciatingly devastating protazoa. At one point I was on the verge of being attacked by leeches. Then it got just plain weird from the flesh eating frogs to the saber-toothed bunnies (hello, Bunnicula).

Eventually I extricated myself from being mired in the marsh of Miramar. I shook off the death dealing evils I had just overcome and continued on my run for I had only gone about 2 miles by that point. I followed the fence tracing the backside of the fuel farm through some lower brush vegetation to the next road. From there, I found the trail that I for which I had originally been searching. I was now cruising along along the trail on my way to the fish pond. The sun began its daily climb its fingers of warmth and light into the cold dark depths of my tribulations until they were but a distant memory. All that mattered now was the feel of the dirt under my feet and the fresh air in my lungs.