The Case For Trail Running

It's not the best kept secret that I'm a competitive sort. I don't like losing, or worse, not finishing. and although I'm slower than cold lava and older than dirt, the fire still burns to get out as often as I can and try to prove to myself that I can still do it - maybe faster than ever.

Over the past couple of years, I've done a bit of volunteer work for Brazen Racing, a trail running race organizer and friend of trail runners everywhere. The events are more than enjoyable - people of all shapes and sizes are finding that there is no standard for a trail runner other than the will to start and finish no matter the conditions.

Therein lies the appeal. Anyone can do this. Running is cheap, fills the "vigorous exercise" model perfectly and will boost confidence with each race. And after volunteering or rolling in so many of Brazen's events, I can conclude that trail runners are unique among athletes in their acceptance of participants of all ability levels. Many of the runs are on East Bay Regional Park District properties, and fit neatly with the District's "Healthy Parks, Healthy People" initiative.

Sure, elite runners as well as weekenders run their events. And as I sit off the trail at an aid station or turnaround point I find refreshing and a little fascinating that even the fastest runners will say "hi" as they pass, or at least return a wave. Even after running through mud, water, dust or heat the finish line overflows with smiles and satisfaction. All finishers are part of the clan; handshakes and kudos are there for Top 5 closers as well as those who bring up the rear. I pack up after each volunteer opportunity and feel as if I just hung out with 800 of my closest friends for a few hours.

Part of the cameraderie comes from a group mindset, especially as runs take place in drenching rain, through slippery muck or bitter cold. You look around as 500 runners line up for a start and decide that, dang, if these folks can all do it, I can do it. The satisfaction gained from each finish cannot be dismissed. This is a cool bunch.

In case you missed the subtlety, this is my pitch for you who don't get out and exercise much to go to Brazen's website, http://brazenracing.com/ , sign up for a 5K and lose any self consciousness or doubt and run. You'll usually see me at some point on the trail at most events, and you won't regret that you'll feel better after each run.

I'm looking right now for the next race. I intend on being there, whether course marker or participant, and having a heck of a time. I hope those of you who want to begin an exercise program will join us. Don't be shy! You won't regret it, and I promise to wave you past my station as you thoroughly enjoy a day as a trail runner.

Impressions On A Spring Afternoon

Mines Road, 17 miles south of Livermore. a short decompression drive. To "The Turnout" next to Big Meadow, stopped and put the chair together. Up the road, pushing slowly...wind sounds like cars driving on the road a half mile away...wind gets louder blowing through the grey pines and blue oaks, a Civil War of trees in elevated ranchland...noise finally becomes alive when gust makes it through the forest to be at my side...goldfields in full bloom, can hardly see the green for the gold, birds announcing "we're here!" - quail by the hundreds, red winged blackbirds, hummers and kites...a flock of squawk as grounded birds take flight, one was too slow as Kite vs Red Winged Blackbird ends quickly and poorly for the smaller of the two...up the road, pushing hard and moving quickly, horses in meadow take note....one walks to fence, I meet him there, he nuzzles looking for an apple or carrot, none found he wanders back to the rest of his equine bridge club... Kites flying, no strings attached but sporting long white tails, riding the breeze into dead oaks, calling kite calls as she leaves her perch; squirrels yell, and as a lower mammal might not realize their shriek is simply a hawk magnet, "Prey Made Easy", right from the infomercial, all the raptors are flying in 'n buying in...past the meadow, the ringing noise of phones, computer generated complication and the workplace left in a field, now 18 miles south of Livermore on Mines...blue oaks going green, leafing out in a sporty blaze of magnificence...back past the horses, met once more at the fence for a few strokes of a large snout...stopping at an overlook, creek below, bullfrogs leap in when I rustle the gravel...."Bob!" the passing bike rider yells, "climb any mountains lately?"....on toward the car but not getting in...hills green and trying to imagine being the first to explore, where I'd go, how I'd manage, where the home would be set up...sun behind the western hills now, still warm, first loggerhead shrike of the season on the branch of a dead oak...time spent but hardly wasted; feeling sorry for all who place so much importance on technology and doodads of modern life, where THIS is where we have to learn our balance points....no, Herb, Three Dot Journalism will never die!...Happy Earth Day / Week - make your mark out there, take a raptor to lunch....these are the days that will shape our children's futures - use them wisely and to our collective benefit, please!

Living the Unlimited Weekend

Working a whole bunch of hours each week can make for a pent up, trail deprived wheelchair hiker. Since there's little time off, I make a point of trundling around most of California's 58 counties every Saturday and Sunday.

With gas prices once again bordering on the absurd, the responsible adult hidden deep within my carefree exterior is surfacing - now, when I get in the car and go, I'd better have a pretty good idea where I'm going and what I'll be doing. That's not always the case with me. Sometimes a good, long drive helps keep me balanced; at other times I'm looking for new adventures on the fly - as in "I'll know I found it when I get there."

This weekend was a combination. Saturday had a lot less focus, as I simply wanted to get as far away, reasonable boundaries considered, from the office. It's been hectic lately, with scattered directives and shallow considerations given new initiatives. A good drive, I told myself, might be just the ticket.

Off I went, east toward my beloved Sierra Nevada, knowing that my favorite passes would be closed for at least another 6 weeks. although an avalanche would have felt wonderful in comparison to my work week, I chose an old favorite, California's Highway 49, the Big Deal through the gold rush country of the Sierra foothills. I was going to make it north to Jackson, then east to Volcano and around the old byways into Fiddletown, Somerset and Sutter Creek.

But as I drove up CA 88 to Jackson, I let the wind gather me in. Southbound from 49 it would be, at least for awhile. I took a brief intermission to see how the tiny burg of Jenny Lind had survived the winter - Jenny was a Swedish songstress, a miner's favorite who never actually made it out to the mines; contemporaries such as Lotta Crabtree and Lola Montez each left their mark at opposite ends of the behavior spectrum, but little Jenny never made it to Jenny Lind. It's just a short side trip outside of Clements, CA, but every time I see the sign I make that turn and stop for a minute.

Jenny Lind has little of historic value besides the name, though. And I wasn't interested in stopping to look around. This day would be for driving, seeing the plush green carpet covering the hills with spots of color everywhere. Maybe the day was meant for smaller places.

Into Jackson, I barely slowed. Jackson was just too big; I sought quiet and a chance to listen to my own thoughts, undisturbed by office politics. Passing Mokelumne Hill, another favorite, I turned on Campo Seco Turnpike for a few miles before taking a cutoff toward Lake Pardee. I found a nice turnout and stopped to gather in the sounds of Spring. Meadowlarks, Scrub Jays, Red Winged Blackbirds...all were advertising their positions loudly and with great precision. I wasn't sure which direction I was heading, so I drove on to Valley Springs and CA 12, which took me into San Andreas, Calaveras County's seat.

Not a lot was happening in San Andreas, and my restlessness just wouldn't let up. I drove south this time, staying on 49 toward the Home of the Jumping Frog, Angels Camp. I drove through the old part of town, preferring to head east on CA 4 to Murphys, but via the old Hwy 4, not the new, faster bypass.

Eastof Angels Camp came Douglas Flat, a few small wineries (a staple of the foothills these days) and into Murphys. There's a small coffee dispensary which makes a really good house brew, so I grabbed the largest they had and cruised back down the hill to Parrott's Ferry Road, which would take me the quiet way into Columbia and Sonora. I stopped to see New Melones Reservoir, or as we used to call it the Stanislaus River, quickly filling with fresh snowmelt. Sure miss the days 40 years ago when the Upper Stan was one of the finest whitewater rides in America. Sad to recall those days when staring at rented houseboats full of people who are clueless of the history of this canyon cruise quietly past.

From Sonora, I had finally had enough for one day. Down CA 108 from 49, into Jamestown, Oakdale, Escalon...all the Central Valley pass throughs that were once bustling with stage traffic en route to / from the Mother Lode. As I arrived home, I wasn't quite sure that I had accomplished anything except opened my eyes to opportunities, as if I could quit and write full time. The sad reality is simply a sad reality. But I saw meadowlarks, so this had been a day of value.

Today I took it on the road, but only as far as Sunol Regional Wilderness just a few miles from home. The sun and bearable temps had encouraged half of the East Bay to get out. I set off on the Camp Ohlone Road, a wide trail and service road frequented by many during the "nice" months. I knew everything about this trail, yet understood that each day would be different from another. The "wilderness" feel wasn't there for the hordes of people, but folks on a trail bring the joys of conversation, of people enjoying their pursuits chatting with one another. That doesn't make for a lotof solitude, but I knew where to find that.

Up to Backpack Trail and it was just me and the vultures. I sat at a familiar flat with my eyes closed, in the shade of a large Valley Oak just beginning to green up.It was quiet enough that I could hear everything from birds to crickets to lizards running on a fallen tree. The serpentine rock was warm; the shade was an exquisite place to nap for a few minutes, letting the natural symphony proceed, movement by movement to a crescendo punctuated by ground squirrels and red shouldered hawks. While the band played on, I turned back toward the parking lot and my car, just 3 miles away.

I had a chance to talk to people, dawgs and horses today. Not an unpleasant vibe was felt, as we all took in this day, this spectacle of beauty slowly bringing a gorgeous weekend to an inglorious end. I sat in the shade a few more times heading off the hills, hoping to catch a bobcat or coyote in the distance. I did hear a Great Horned Owl hooting beneathe a dark canaopy of oaks. That made the trek perfect. A perfect day. We can hope for one of these every now and then, I tohught...maybe it's my own expanded view of perfection that brings magic to today. Am I expecting too much of work week people?

I think the answer is pretty simple. I'm not a really demanding sort, but I get annoyed when people fail by refusing to make an effort in this life. Life is not a spectator sport; all the people out there with me today were participants. Maybe that's why I enjoy them so much. They were out there, as Teddy Roosevelt might have said, making demands of themselves, sometimes succeeding, sometimes not. But they know the pain of failure as well as the great motivator that is success. The weekend ended with that thought - that achievement, marvel, success or failure are accomplished only by those who choose to be in the game. How sad I am for those whose ultimate victory is to watch another's successes and failures...

And That's The Way It Was...

The weekend's on the wane, but it's been fun...and draining. Welcome, Spring 2011! We watched you ride a storm front into the Bay Area, raising creek levels to new heights. And as much as we love you, Spring, we'd be good if you could relax the rain for just ONE day this week. But your influence is already apparent.

Yesterday's Diablo Trails Challenge was an epic - anyone who finished the 50K, Half Marathon, 10K or 5K should put the date on their resume should they be asked about their perseverence and dedication. I was the "5K Turnaround", a position for which I volunteered. Pushing through mud and stream crossings for a mile to reahc my station, I was shuttled the remaining three quarters of a mile by a park ranger who took pity. The creek crossings were great, though - the stream through Pine Canyon was a foot higher than last weekend thanks to monstrous overnight rain showers. I was dressed for the occasion, though, and didn't drop feet in the water even once (my technique requires front wheels up while in the water, and feeling my way over the rocky streambed).

Once at the turnaround, I watched as the Half runners, then the 10K, then the 5K folks cruised past. Rain of varying intensity was the order of the day, and being cocooned in rain gear I was in no distress. We sat and cheered the runners along both directions - they passed us on the way back, too. The trail was a thick, gooey muck by the time the 5K sweeper came by, so I packed up and pushed back, knowing the mud would be stuck like some bas relief acrylic to tires, frame, shoes and clothes. Each creek crossing was a gift, enabling a firmer grip on freshly cleaned tires. That brief bit of solace disappeared into "fail" mode once I hit the shore and I took on more mud, though.

As on the way out, though, the friendly ranger stopped to help me in as I wallowed at the mercy of the slippery, sticky trail. Half marathoners and 10K runners still flew past. The rain was a motivator, as the wind must also have been in the higher elevations. We heard from the higher aid stations that the temp had not climbed out of the 30's, and that some 50K runners were experiencing hypothermia. That category of athlete is built from some of the more rugged pieces of The Human Experience, though, and I'm sure all made it home safely.

Fast forward to this morning. I was tired after yesterday, so I slept in until 9 or so. Having been awakened at 3:30 AM by a torrent of wind and rain, I decided to head out to the Mines Road - Del Puerto Canyon loop to see what Nature had wrought overnight. Now, I know we had rain in Livermore...but what must have occurred in the Southern Diablos was incredible - the tiny creeks and drainages had turned to rivers; waterfalls where waterfalls had never been were falling from every notch in the hillsides; entire valleys had become flood plains. Canyon walls had fallen, leaving rocks of all sizes in the road, and testing my Corolla's ability to navigate the narrow passages around them.

The most fun was finding that the two places where the winter - gorged creeks normally crossed the road had become challenges. The water was still less than a foot deep, but velocity and volume were off the charts. Add to that a normally quiet culvert where the creek crosses beneath Mines Rd. had burbled over onto the road, leaving that section of pavement in tatters. A short distance past that last crossing was a large blue oak entangled with a half dozen manzanita bushes lying across the road, blocking the northbound lane. Mines is a quiet road, though, so it probably wouldn't have stopped any traffic. The locals are used to it, of course. The theme seemed to be "these mountains got one HELL of a lot of rain last night." The runoff was unbeleiveable. I drove all the way to the base of Mt. Hamilton before turning around to take on Del Puerto Canyon. Water was everywhere.

I knew the Canyon would be difficult. The walls are vertical most of the way, composed of flaky sedimentary rock and loose topsoil. As expected, rockslides were everywhere. The recent frozen mornings followed by warmer rain probably loosened up the canyon walls a lot. I drove with crossed fingers, half expecting to be ambushed by a 500 lb boulder dropping from one of the walls. Several of that size had found their way to the middle of the road.

Driving wasn't too hazardous if one stayed on the pavement. But one unfortunate 4WD - offroad pick up type abruptly violated the "Rule of Four Wheel Drive Infallibility". I drove past and watched a bulldozer pull the unfortunate large, dual cab, 4wd truck out of the flood - stage level creek at Frank Raines County Park. I guess a flooded creek crossing in a steep canyon seemed like a good idea at the time to someone who will probably still guess wrong going forward. Some people are like that....

The upshot is - this was a heck of a storm, but it didn't dampen the weekend. The ground is beyond saturation, a finding that's somewhat ironic for the First Day of Spring. We expect rain the entire week. And still good things came of the weekend. Bush Lupine blooming next to Bush Daisies were a beautiful accent to Del Puerto Canyon's unforgiving allure. Deer chomped on fresh greens everywhere. A lone jackrabbit just north of San Antonio Valley gave me two ears "up" for getting past the rockslides and flooded streams.

A weekend doesn't have to be sun and warmth to be fun and games. Welcome to Spring, 2011. No matter the weather, it's with us for three months so PLEASE make the most of it! See you out on a muddy trail soon!

Diablo Trails Challenge

For those of you who are athletic outdoors types, check out my good friends at Brazen Racing: http://brazenracing.com/diablo.html

This weekend's excitement is the Diablo Trails Challenge, a Brazen event and benefit for Save Mount Diablo, one of my favorite causes. If you fancy yourself a mud runner, this weekend will be right up your alley. There's an unbelievably difficult 50K, a half, and a 10K / 5K.

I'll be the 5K turnaround, a position I hold close to my heart as I watch Gina, Sabbath and hundreds of running friends pass by. The cruise to the turnaround location might be excruciatingly difficult by itself - I was there last Sunday, a week after any rain had fallen, and there was plenty of mud, as well as a half dozen creek crossings...and it's to rain all week before this run.

And I'm SO looking forward to it! So much support from all, as well as the thrill I get from seeing so many people, some of whom have never run a mile, as they grit teeth and bear down to finish what will be a grueling event no matter the chosen distance.

It'll be wet. It'll be muddy. And it'll be the most fun you can have without breaking any laws. Pine Canyon is gorgeous now, and Stage Road will offer challenges for the shorter distances. The Diablo Regional Trail will carry the 50K route, including the hellish 4.5 mile hill from Round Valley to Morgan Territory. It took me 4 days to roll this trail 2 years ago...these runners will be mere hours from end to end, no matter the conditions.

So think of me slogging through the mud to hang out with you on a wet, soggy trail Saturday, March 19th at Castle Rock Regional Park. Check out the link, sign up if you can and please say "hi" as you run past me or turnaround to head home for the 5K. Hang around to greet the 50K runners as they finish. Most of all, welcome to a real life, real time experience, one you won't get sitting around watching basketball in the morning.

Runners, to your marks - sign up, I'll see you there. My best to all participants. Maybe if I start tomorrow I can finish with the 50K folks....;-) See you there! 

The Kid In The Candy Store

The next two weeks are the 4wheelbob equivelent of a major holiday. We all celebrate The Season in different ways, though. For some, it's sitting on the couch and watching college basketball or pre - season baseball. Others will start getting the garden ready, planting, trimming; maybe you'll clean the house, or the garage....

Not me. After all, it's The Holidays.

Sunday marks the start of Daylight Savings Time, perhaps the most useful creation ever to spring from Congress. The following weekend, or shortly thereafter to be precise, Spring will, well, it'll spring. Wildflowers and animals will be everywhere. As the mountains warm, the snow will melt, filling reservoirs and clearing the way for some high altitude 4wheelbob cruises. And every night, thanks to that extra hour of daylight as well as the lengthening days, will be an opportunity to cruise my beloved trails.

I'm already getting a big time itch for those long, late days. The middle of June will come all too soon, and the longest day of the year will pass as if on a surly wind if we don't take up the call to arms. Get off the couch. Grab the dog, kids, husband or wife and go outside. Leave the car (and save the gas!) and take a walk.

Sunday...Daylight Savings Day...I'll be out as early as I can get up, and will be out somewhere until the darkness returns. So many trails, so little time. Maybe I'll finally do the Coyote Creek Trail from Morgan Hill to Sunnyvale or Milpitas and back. Maybe the Iron Horse Regional Trail, a long standing favorite. Maybe Mt. Diablo's North Peak, a summit I enjoy like few others.

The point is - it doesn't matter. I could tell you about the things you're likely to see but that would ruin your fun. Think renewal, freshness, wonder and amazement. Nature will be just getting warmed up. Watching the transition from winter's stark beauty to spring's restoration and celebration of life will have you in awe if you have a soul. It's free, too....why go anywhere else?

The first day of spring follows a week later, and will almost be anticlimactic. We'll have had a week of late daylight, and the wildflowers will bust out between now and May or June. Our green hills will call us out, to look closely at the tiny flowers that begin the color show at ground level. Mom Nature will put together color shows, the likes of which cannot be duplicated by fashion designers or any other pretentious human endeavors.

And again, I'll be on a trail, rain or shine. The Diblo Trail Challenge run will be March 19 at Castle Rock Regional Park, a perfect way to welcome spring whether it warms or it's gray and damp. You'll see me out there Saturday as well as Sunday while I sit and listen to the springtime jazz concert coming from the birds of the season. Find me, get in touch if you've never experienced this, and I'll take you there. Because everywhere will hold zillions of wonders, beckoning us to enjoy.

Tis the holiday season, after all. It's ours, all of ours to take in. I'm back in the gym getting ready for some really epic early season hikes and climbs. Some won't last as long as others, but the universal reaction will be that of the kid in the candy store - so many good things to take in, to see, to hear, to smell.....and just enough time to be filled with the experiences. Join me. Come out, come along. Get your Spring self on - this is a season unmatched over the coursing of the calendar! See you out there!

True Confessions

This is going to be short, as I am not proud when I make a commitment to do something that I NEED desperately to do, then get sidetracked and hogtied.

This was to be the Week of the Return to the Gym...an epic in 5 parts. I alluded to it in my last post. I felt great every night this week, ready to get back to the extreme workout regimen.

Except - it didn't happen. Instead, events conspired to get me home later than anticipated; illness in the home kept me watchful and available; and now I feel redemption is necessary. Redemption may come in the form of trying to put in several miles during my lunchtime, even on the ugly streets of Silicon Valley. It may mean 30 minutes in the gym at work, if the workload abates and I can find 30 minutes. It may come as a quick "see you Monday" at Noon tomorrow, after which time I'll head to the friendly homelike confines of Sunol Regional Wilderness. To get away for an afternoon, finish a couple of projects and spend enough time in the gym to convince my fragile ego that no, I'm STILL a viable entity. That would be a gas!

There is no crueler tantalization than a gaze out the window on an Almost Spring afternoon, and realizing there is no way in hell to enjoy it. But the call I hear, the one that yearns, in my best William Wallace shout, to cty "FREEEEEDOOOOOOM..." at the top of my lungs out in the parking lot, while high tailing it to a trail.....that's the voice I hear. The working world may simply be too structured for me as I age; my job could ultimately turn out to be that of the sage, watching life in its zillion forms provide the inspirations and motivations so many seek. So let me finish with this - rather than being found keeled over at my desk by an indifferent co - worker, how much more rewarding to meet Mother Nature in Her home, on Her terms, and at Her mercy. Food for thought. Have a perfect weekend, let's meet somewhere and listen to the bluebirds...