Just Keep Climbing...

Nov 8, 2012. It was supposed to be a lovely Fall day. The perfect day to get out, see some fall colors, enjoy the crisp, cool air and get a little exercise to boot. I'd been planning this hike for a month, and had every detail worked out, at least I thought. But, as usual, reality had different ideas than me.

It all started last summer, when I hiked with my dad and my husband to the top of Mt. Rose, which is in Nevada, overlooking Reno on one side and Lake Tahoe on the other. I was pretty darn proud of myself, climbing that mountain, thinking what great physical condition I've gotten in that I could do that and not really feel the effects. It made me feel invincible! So when I got home to Southern California, I began to research the hiking opportunities and lo and behold, there are mountains here too! Well duh. I've only been looking at them for the 16 years that I'd lived here, but I never really thought about actually going to them.

I found myself a nifty little website called Everytrail.com, where hikers, explorers and adventurers such as myself can record trips using GPS devices and cell phones with GPS capability, and post them on the site. I found lots of Southern California posts with directions, maps, stories and pictures that stoked my fire to get out there and start exploring the backcountry of this area. I've even added some trips myself, if you look over to the right of this post, you can see my Everytrail widget, just click on that sucker and check out where I've been. But I digress...

Now, there are lots of hiking options here in Southern California that don't involve much climbing, but still remembering how great it felt to conquer a mountaintop, that seemed to be the idea that was stuck in my head, replaying over and over again. My research into suitable destinations yielded several options, each as inviting as the last. I decided for my first mountain hike here in So Cal that I would head up Mt. Wilson. It's about an hour drive from my home, the13 mile round trip description of the hike seemed reasonable, and the elevation at the top was "only" 5712 feet above sea level, that's nothing compared to the 10778 feet at the summit of Mt. Rose! No problem! Riiiiight.

I planned from the beginning to take on this hike alone. This might seem strange to some, or even dangerous. After all, there are bears and mountain lions out there, and who knows what crazy people you could meet off in the wilderness? But having spent a great deal of my youth out exploring the backwoods above my beloved Tahoe, hiking, fishing, cross country skiing and biking with no one else along for the trip, I didn't really think anything of it. After all, in all those years  I never encountered anything more dangerous than squirrels. So I felt confident that a little day hike on my own was no big deal.

In the days leading up to my hike, I made sure I was prepared for what I had planned. I packed a backpack with essentials (first aid kit, extra clothes, water, flashlight, etc.), bought an "Adventure Pass" (required for recreational use of 4 Southern California national forests), studied my trail guides and maps, and started to get excited about the upcoming adventure. Until the day arrived. I woke up that morning to the sound of rain on the roof. Darn. Ok, I thought, I'll just have to bring a rain poncho. No biggie. Then I found a space blanket we had lying around, and stuffed that in my backpack "just in case". As I drove across the valley, my car was sprinkled intermittently, but by the time I got to the trailhead at Chantry Flats, the sun was out and the clouds were parting. I grabbed my pack, locked up my car, and headed out.

The first part of the hike was downhill on an old forest service road, easy going for the first mile. At the bottom of the hill there was a creek, surrounded by a lot of little cabins that I discovered on later research were built in the early 1900's, and are still lived in today, though I didn't see many of the residents. The trail split about a mile and a half in, I took a quick side trip to see Sturtevant Falls, which was a point of interest that had come up on many of my searches for places to hike. I sat for a few minutes to take in the idyllic scene, and to drink water and eat energy bars and Butterfingers I'd smuggled out of my kids' trick or treat bags. I took some pictures and enjoyed the view before heading back out to the main trail.

Back out on the trail, I had two options, the "easy trail", and the "hikers only" trail. I chose the hiker's only route as it had been described in my guide as "the most scenic". This, I soon learned, also meant, "really rocky and kinda steep". The trail was literally carved out of a cliff in some places, and I found myself leaning away from the edge to keep my heavy backpack from dragging me over the side and 20 feet down into the creek. But the scenic part didn't disappoint. The trail followed along the edge of the creek for a good long ways, including views of Sturtevant falls from above. There were more waterfalls as I kept going, even at a trickle the creek was very pretty, and I couldn't help but think how nice it must be in the spring, when the stream is full.

I continued on the trail for one mile, two miles, and more. It climbed up gradually, cutting through thick woods of oak and more or less followed on one side or the other of the creek bed. As I went along, the clouds that had dissipated earlier began to roll back in, and I began to notice that other than the trail in front of me and behind me, there wasn't much of a view. I saw some lovely fall colors on the trees over the path, and even a little brown salamander making his way across the trail, but didn't see much else in the way of scenery. It began to rain on and off, not enough to soak me, but enough to make my clothes just a little bit damper than I liked. And oh yeah, I was sweating. A lot. Hiking uphill with a heavy load on your back will do that to you. I stopped at Spruce Grove Campground, which the trail goes right through the middle of, for a quick break. Up until this point in my hike, I had only seen one other person after leaving Sturtevant Falls, and began to notice a strange sense of aloneness. That's not even a word. But it's the best description I can think of. I attempted to munch on more Butterfingers and Clif Bars while several rowdy squirrels perched on branches over my head, shrieking and chucking large acorns at me. I think one of them whizzed on me, which was my cue to pack up and get going again.

A short distance from Spruce Grove, there was a trail split. I followed the sign with the arrow pointing to the left, noting "Mt. Wilson, 3 miles". Only three miles to go! Pfft, that's a measly 5k, no big deal there, right? And that is where reality began to have fun with me. Very soon after starting on this part of the trail, it went from "gradually ascending" to "oh jeez this is steep". And it didn't relent even one little bit for the next three miles. At first it was just one long stretch of up, up, up and more up.  Then the trail hit the steepest part of the mountainside and broke into switchbacks crossing back and forth across the steep mountain face. Now, I thought I'd prepared for this. I had finished an 18 mile run the previous week, so I knew I wasn't lacking in stamina, yet I felt like I was dragging my feet through mud with each step. I guess that 5k isn't such a cinch after all when you're going straight up instead of flat! Yeesh. And at some point my ankle began to hurt. Great, I thought, just what I need.

I got to a sign that said "halfway point", 1.4 miles to Mt. Wilson, and sat down on a rock to rest. That halfway mark was referring to the old Sturtevant Camp, which is still there (and open for rental, apparently, according to their website), that I had passed earlier. So now I was thinking, Oh my God, I still have a mile and a half of this to go! Aaugh! So much for "a mile is no big deal". I got up off my butt, shoved my big feet up the trail, and counted my blessings that there was no one around to hear me growling and grunting my way up the last part of it.

I think it took me just under an hour to get that last mile in. And what a mile it was. Phew. But after what seemed like an infinite amount of switchbacks, stomping, climbing and just the teensiest bit of swearing, I saw a fence, and this sign.

 

6.7 miles back to my car. No biggie, it's all down hill from here! But wait, there's more! 

My original plan had been to find a picnic area once I reached the top, eat lunch, and take a different trail back to Chantry Flats. It was all so well described in my guide! The trail shown here ended shortly after the sign, and I began to see the buildings that housed the telescopes of the Wilson Observatory. I headed out on paved roads and looked for the picnic area from my guide. I quickly discovered two big problems with this plan. One, there was no cell service there on top of Mt. Wilson. I had assumed that a huge complex like that as described in my guides would have cell service, but I had zip, nothing, nada. I tried to load maps on my GPS app, but got nothing. The other big problem I had was that the fog had rolled in something fierce. Not long after arriving on the mountaintop I found myself surrounded by fog, not able to see even 20 feet in front of me. Now, I wasn't lost. I knew where I had been and could find my way back. But I didn't want to go back the way I came because the path I was supposed to take back down the mountain was supposed to be wider and less precarious than the one I had taken up. So I walked around the observatory complex at the top of Mt. Wilson, studying the maps posted on the buildings there, hoping for a clue to find the trail that had been described in my guide, but couldn't find a thing. Stupid cell phone. I decided I needed to head back down the way I came or else risk taking an unfamiliar route in the fog and possibly dark (as in, Oh, Yeah, I forgot that we set our clocks back a week earlier and now it's dark at 5. Big DUH). By this time I had busted out my space blanket too, because I was freezing my tail off in my sweaty shirt and sweatshirt, and it must have been just under 50 degrees up there at that time. So I must have looked quite the sight to the guy who had driven up there to work on the TV towers at the top of the mountain. He pulled over to see if I was ok, and I asked him if he knew where the trailhead was to get down. He said no, and asked if I wanted a ride back to my car. Let's see. It's cold. I'm kinda wet. My feet hurt. My ankle hurts. I'm hungry (never got to have my picnic), I'm not lost, but maybe, yeah, I'm not really going the right direction either. It's foggy. It's getting dark. Ok, so I accepted the ride. What a nice guy. He said his name was David. So wherever you are, David, thank you for rescuing me from the brink of Mt. Wilson and the great fog bank of November 2012.

So now I've got another bee in my bonnet, this time to go back and do it right. I thought I'd been prepared, but it's always the little things that get you in the end. The weather. The time change. Trusting my technology to guide me instead of tried and true paper maps. And, of course, my assumption that over 4000 feet of elevation gain would be "no big deal". I had thought Mt. Rose was a big deal, but looking at the details of that hike, it starts at nearly 9000 feet elevation, so by the time you reach the top, it's only around 2100 feet of elevation gain. No small feat, but nearly double that and that's what you get when you hike Mt. Wilson.

I'll be doing it again, and yes, I'll be doing it alone. But this time, and all the times I venture out after, I'll be sure to plan ahead, think of the small things, and never assume Mother Nature is on my side. Because she's the worst enemy us would be adventurers can have. She can also be our best friend. The trouble we go to to prepare for these trips is only worth it because of the rewards we get in the end. The views. The sense of accomplishment. The memories and stories that we have to pass on to those around us. I look forward to the next round, I hope the story of it will be better and more encouraging than this one. But despite the negative parts of this trip, I have one major thing to take away from it. And that is, I DID IT. I MADE IT. Even though I wanted to stop more than once along the way and turn back, I didn't. That is something I will always have to keep with me, and it will be my motivation to keep going in the future. As I continue to discover every day, anything is possible, if you just keep going and don't give up, no matter how long it takes.

Thanks for reading, see you next time!

Why I Run, Why I Race

Whew. What a week. I've been recovering from my latest race, the Long Beach International City Bank Half Marathon. I know that's a long title, but it's what's on my medal, so I figured I should include it all on here. In running that race, I completed the third leg of the Beach Cities Challenge, the first two legs of which were the Surf City Half Marathon (in February) and the OC Half Marathon ( in May). So you can imagine that lately I've been thinking about this whole running thing a lot. Yes, I've written several times about it before, so hopefully I'm not repeating myself. But I've got two shiny new medals and I'm all giddy, so here's pictures of the bumper stickers I put on my car, and another post about running.

words to live by

you know you want one...

   

I've been running for almost a year now. I started nearly two years ago with taking walks, which gradually became jogging and running. Now, if you had told me at the beginning of this whole thing that I would end up a runner, I would have told you you were nuts. All through school I hated running in PE class, and never gave it a second thought when I entered adulthood and wasn't obligated to put on ugly shorts and go stumble through the woods behind all the skinny kids.  I liked other sports and activities, but running was way, way, way low on my list. And yet, in June of this year, I found myself in a shoe store, running on a treadmill while skinny people watched, so they could tell me to buy expensive shoes that would help me improve my performance as a long distance runner. That's right. Long. Distance. Runner.  How did this happen? Well, the obvious answer is that running has been a huge catalyst in helping me lose a whole lot of weight. More than 100 lbs and counting, to be exact. It's brought me a long way and as long as I keep doing it, I can reach my weight loss goal and maintain it once I'm there. So, even after everything it's done for me, why would I think of not doing it any more?

The answer is: my own dumb self. My previous post was about the motivations that I use to keep me going in my running, because when it comes down to it, I really have to convince myself to keep at it. Every time I plan to run, I have serious arguments with myself, because "just this once", I'd like to sleep in, or lay in bed and watch TV, or read a book, or whatever.  The worst part of every run I do is when I make myself put on my running clothes and shoes, and go out the door. The second worst part is the first mile or so, during which I whine to myself about how it's only the first mile and I still have a really long way to go. So how am I able to keep doing it? It's a funny thing, really. Despite this minor difficulty that I have getting going, every time I run, after I get through the annoying first part, I stop thinking about how far I have to go, and just enjoy what is around me. I focus on my pace and my surroundings and don't really notice the passage of time and distance. When I finish, I have a sense of accomplishment that I did what I set out to do. And then I reap the rewards. The few hours a week I spend running translate into calories burned, higher metabolism, increased endurance, and so on. The enjoyment is not just the actual time I spend running, it's the way it makes me feel all the time. I like to think of it as training for everyday life. During my regular runs, I keep a basic pace, just enough to get a good workout without making myself overly tired. Keeping that basic routine of running a few times a week helps me feel good all day, every day, and that makes it worth the time, money and energy I spend doing it.

So I've established that running is a great way to become fit and help maintain a healthy lifestyle. So what's the deal with racing? I've done some races here and there, but I've never won a single one, and I never will. I would be happy to come in the top 50% of runners in a race, to be honest. So what's the point? You pay a hefty registration fee to enter, but all you get is a shirt, a number to wear on your shirt, a chip to wear on your shoe that will tell you how fast you went, and the admission to a place to run. So logically, it doesn't make sense. You already have shirts, you probably already have a watch to time yourself with (I use an app on my phone), and you can find places to run for free. So why race if you can't win? I mean, in addition to the financial commitment, a race itself can take a lot out of you. If it's anything more than a 5k, you shouldn't just sign up and do it. You need to prepare and train to be sure you are up for the challenge of the distance you have committed to, and even if you are already a casual runner, it might be a bit more than you are normally comfortable with. So why do it?

It's all in the experience. It's the challenge and the atmosphere. It starts when you pay for your registration, and begin to train for the race. You feel a little excited, but maybe a little nervous, too. And that feeling grows as you get closer to the day of the race. Then, when you arrive the day before the race to pick up your packet, there's already a festive feeling in the air. Everyone is excited, and you get start to get more excited too. They hand you your bib and your new shirt and even if it's ugly and you would never wear it in public, you still get excited to have it.

shoe timer thingy

not too ugly. Queen Mary could be smaller...

OC Half Marathon bib, timing chip & shirt.

 

Long Beach bib with Beach Cities logo!

 Then the day of the race arrives. You have to get there early to make sure you have enough time to jockey for parking spaces with other would-be racers, then queue up for the great Wall Of Port O'Potties before heading to the starting line. But once you get there, even though you know it's going to be a while before you see the finish line, you feel a sense of anticipation and excitement because you know you are about to share the experience with hundreds or even thousands of people who are just as crazy as you.

Long Beach Marathon & Half Marathon sunrise

Surf City runners! Huntington Beach, CA

And then the race starts. Remember what I said earlier about maintaining a steady pace and not making yourself tired? The race is the exception to that rule. This is when you test yourself to see what you are capable of. From start to finish, you push yourself as hard as you can, and when you are done, you should feel like you've got nothing left to give. Call the spouse and kids to bring a forklift and a stretcher, because they are carrying you home. But the race isn't just about the finish. Don't forget to enjoy the route. It's new and interesting and different from your usual route. Most races close streets for much of the routes, and while it sucks for the neighbors, you get to run in places that normally you wouldn't be able to. When the location is somewhere you frequently drive, you might catch things you normally miss because you are running by it instead of whizzing by in your car.

Long Beach starting line. Outta my way.

Long Beach first mile. Not tired yet...

Long Beach Mile Two. Smells like fish.

Long Beach Mile Three. Or Five. I forget. Fire boat looks cool!

Surf City Mile Four. Still Not Tired.

Long Beach Mile 7. Ok, maybe a little tired now.

Surf City Mile 12. Definitely Tired. But almost there.

Surf City Finish Line. Preparing my medal speech.

But of course, the best part is the finish line. No matter how tired you are, you are guaranteed to get that last bit of energy when you see it coming up, enough to put you across with a spring in your step, and a smile on your face. And the best part? The medals! Not every race gets you a medal, but if you get one, you put it on and wear it proudly, grinning like an idiot, surrounded by a crowd of other grinning idiots wearing the same medal. It's awesome. The strap is sweaty and gross after a minute or so, and you'll never wear it again, but like the ugly shirt they gave you, you will always treasure it like the most expensive piece of jewelry you ever owned, because it doesn't just represent that day's race, but all the work you put into training and completing that goal that you set for yourself.

Surf City

Long Beach

OC

OC Medal & Finisher Cert.

Long Beach Medal. Finisher Cert is in the mail...

Surf City Medal and Finisher Cert.

Beach Cities Medal. It's HUGE. Like running 3 half Marathons is HUGE.

Finally, after a race, you get to celebrate. Go out with friends and loved ones, and eat like a crazy person for one day because you really earned it. When you get home, find a conspicuous location and hang your medal on it (or your race bib, if no medal is given). If you liked the race, think about doing another one. But even if you never do, just enjoy your accomplishment, and get back out and keep your regular running routine.

Running and racing have absolutely changed my life. I have gotten as far as I have because of it. I love doing both, and I know I would still enjoy the running if I didn't race, but racing is like the icing on the cake for me. I have run 9 races including the 3 half marathons, with more races coming up soon on my fitness "to do" list. Now that I've lost a lot of weight, I am physically able to do a lot of activities that I love and couldn't do before because of my physical limitations. I really enjoy doing so many different things now, but I will continue to dedicate myself mostly to running and training for races, because of all it has done for me and continues to do.

So what about everyone else? I would like to encourage my readers here to find something that does for them what running did for me. If you want to try running, that's great! Start out slow and build yourself up to whatever level you feel comfortable maintaining (like I did). See how many of your friends are runners and ask their advice. You can even join a running club! But if you hate the idea of running, there are plenty of other things you can do that will get the old body moving. Try lots of different activities, and when one of them clicks for you, look into friendly competition, whether it's a race or game or something similar. Share the experience that you love with like minded people, and enjoy the rewards of being active and healthy. I am incredibly glad I did, and guarantee you will be too. Find your activity, whatever it may be,  and get out there and have fun!

That's all for now, my friends. As usual, thank you for reading, and see you next time!