I like to run. I like running on trails the most. If I had to pick between a road or a dirt road next to the road, I pick the dirt road. When I was in high school, I tried out for cross country and track; I didn't care much for track. I liked running outdoors and not in a circle (ellipsis). I loved running on trails or fire roads just as long as nature was around. I saw my first owl in high school while running on a trail next to the high school. Those are some scary birds, by the way. For me, trails are an escape. They may begin one block away from busy intersections but can make the city fall away and be forgotten in no time.
I started running because my sister ran. My oldest sister got a C in PE and it was unacceptable. The only non A in her high school report card. So she tried out for track and field and found out that she was a good 800 meter race. I was in middle school during all this so when I got to high school myself I also went out for x-country and loved it.
Now I run around the Rose Bowl. At the Rose Bowl you can run around the perimerter and its adjoining golf course. But this is chaotic. People don't know that there is a running ettiquette so running around the perimeter is a dodging exercise through human obstacle courses. But there are trails around the Rose Bowl and north of the Rose Bowl, and south of the Rose Bowl. Yes, there are some running clubs that need to enforce the running rules a bit better but for the most part these trails are not as trafficked. And you get a sense that you are communing with nature; I've seen squirrels, rabbits, deer, crows (after the station fire), ducks, a variety of other birds, and a small mountain lion. I can't truly confirmed the mountain lion since it was a quick view, back out, and run the other way ordeal.
Anyway, I recently started running again and have resolved to run on trails. I had worked myself to a nine mile long run this past Saturday, and thought about doing loops but decide to go for it and headed towards Brown Mountain in the Angeles National Forest. There are two ways to get to the top of the mountain, throught the mountain face or the El Prieto Trail. I seldom run the EP trail because it feels never ending eventhough it is not as challenging as the Brown Mt. fire road, which is longer and slightly more challenging.
About the EP trail, it is a single track trail, through a canyon, it's slightly flatter, and it is shadier than the BMt. trail. So I go on the trial and I'm rhapsodizing in my head about the beauty of nature and what I'm going to write in this blog. How I'm bummed out that I'm not seeing any rabbits but glad that I'm not encountering less desirable animals. I'm stopping to take in the scenery and catch my breath, and drink some water. I also start panicking a little because I'm starting to get that claustraphobic feeling I get when I run this trail. I hit 4 miles on my GPS watch, about a mile into the trail, which by the way, is hillier and sunnier than I remembered it, and I stop. I listen. I can hear the wind. I'm loving mother nature, I'm congratulating myself for doing this, I'm contemplating my blog entry, and after taking it all in I start to head back.
A mile up hill is a challenge. A mile down hill is not; you think. But I get to this point where it's a sharp turn plus a steep downhill. And the downhill is not solid dirt but more like loose dirt/dust. I start to slide, and I think that's fine because I know what I'm doing except that I lose my footing and land on my butt. My right butt.
I am okay physically, but my ego just gorged itself on humble pie. I bounce up because the fall is not that bad and more than anything, I want to make sure that I was out of sight from the hikers I had just passed. I was. And I'm ashamed. I tried to console myself with Confucius quote, "Our greatest glory is not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall." Yes, Confucius was consoling me, must I add the straight faced emoticon?
I kind of took it in stride, because I'm thinking runners high was involved. It is my belief that sometimes, you just got to get your butt kicked. Saturday was as good as day as any. On the way back I saw two rabitts and a horse which made the outing a success since I measure success by the wilderness experience.
Oh, one final thing, when you fall in the forrest, and no one is there to see it, you still fall, it still hurts (your pride), and you do make a sound. Mine was, "ahh."
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