The Land of Peace and Tranquility

Running in the Land of the Medicine Buddha in Soquel is just serene: few people, a challenging trail that's all uphill at the beginning, all downhill at the end and plenty of room for Callie to romp.

The trails allegedly wend all the way up the hill to The Forest of Nisene Marks State Park, which could make an amazing point-to-point long run. But on this particular day, we only ran about 4.5 miles to a nice little lookout where the redwood trees gave way to orchards and green hills.

The property -- open to dogs, closed to bikes -- is part of the Tibetan Buddhist retreat tucked above Soquel.

The trails themselves are bark dust and redwood duff, under a canopy of trees with sporadic benches and small altars. If you drive up the road, there are more altars and a wishing temple (which was closed -- no wishes for us). All together, we saw six people and a standard poodle.

However, the highlight of the run, of course, is finishing. In the Land of the Medicine Buddha, the trailhead is marked with a gong, an ornate bell and many, many wind chimes. We rang and donged all of them!

Race plans

Bend in August? It's called the Haulin' Aspen trail marathon and half-marathon. Sonja wants to meet up for it. Funny part is I checked out this race when I was trying to find a run to coincide with my 10-year high school reunion in late August.

I already mapped it online and I could make the drive (with Callie) in about 10 hours. We have a place to stay in Bend, so really all I need to do is get up the guts to register and ask for a day or two off.

The other one Sonja's looking at is the Vegas Rock'n'Roll Marathon in December. I've been thinking that flat, fast course might be just the thing to train for. Dipping under four hours would be amazing and I'm getting sooooo close!

Plus this race could maybe even be a weekend trip -- no vacation necessary, perhaps? Fly in late Friday or early Saturday, leave Sunday after the race. I mean, do I really want to hang out in Vegas in December totally exhausted from a run?

See, that's the thing: time. Scoring vacation do get out of town for runs is tough when I still want to make it to that reunion and visit my family in Eugene/Springfield, not to mention get up to Portland or Seattle to see friends or even travel abroad. Three weeks of vacation a year simply is not enough to get it all done.

But both of these runs have a lot of appeal....

Trail dance

Callie has been having a ball lately. The lucky pup has gone running nearly every day for the past week and she's loving it!

Last night we went for what should have been a quick'n'easy jaunt on the trails behind my house. It was my "break" after running six of the past seven days, including a 12.6-mile hilly trail run Monday morning. Plus I had 6 a.m. run plans with Leslie today.

So Callie and I set off with some music (for me) and less than 90 minutes of daylight left. We ran the standard 30-minute out-and-back trail, but went up the hill instead of turning back. We zipped through the golf course (I "flew" down the hills with my arms spread wide) all the while rocking out to my special mix of chick country music, Lily Allen and the like, 90s alternative rock hits and my sister's mixed CDs from Guatemala. God, we had fun!


We dropped into the park side of the Delaveaga trails and headed back toward the trailhead singing aloud. There weren't that many people out (by now it was almost 8 p.m.) so I wasn't too worried about embarrassing myself. Sure, some people did double-takes, but I couldn't hear them over my music and off-key, out-of-breath singing.

Callie trotted along just fine, occasionally darting after a bird only to find she was still attached to a leash and therefore unable to lunge far enough to catch her prey. She got a bit tired when I doubled back down a trail to add time (because a 40 minute easy run wasn't enough) but I sang to her and we did a little jig in the early twilight the tree canopy provided.

Eventually, we made it out of the forest and back into the neighborhood. After a quick stop at the dog park for water and a bathroom break (for Callie, really) we sprinted the last four blocks home and Callie got a nice kibble dinner with turkey burger drippings. All told, it was a 55-minute run, which I'm hoping was about 6ish miles (I felt like we were bookin' it!).



She was fully recovered in time for the morning run with Leslie today. I wasn't quite as well off, but I started chugging coconut water at Mom's suggestion and it's a great, natural sports drink. I'm hooked.

New priority: sleeping

I met Leslie for our regular Wednesday morning run after just three hours of sleep.

This was not my best move ever. I sometimes forget the importance of sleep and get real excited about doing a lot of things. In this case, it was a 12-hour workday that I needed to wind down from, so I watched episodes of "Dexter" until after 2 a.m. Just a heads up, watching a TV show about a serial killer, even a well-meaning one, does not calm you.

The combo of Dexter and crime reporting just wrecked me. My three restless hours of sleep were spent dreaming about murders and drug use (not my own, I promise). I wonder if I'd even be able to function today were it not for the 45-minute jaunt through Capitola the four of us (and Callie too!) did this morning?

This brings up two important points for me. One, running before work really gets me going, even more so than downing a French press of Guatemalan coffee. Two, when I'm training at any moderate level, I need at least eight hours of sleep at night. It simply doesn't work for me to expend that energy without the recovery time in dreamland.

Exercising is great, but it takes a lot of other elements to make it beneficial. Sleep is a big one, as is diet, staying hydrated, the gear you use, how much you drink or lots of other little things you (or at least I) rarely consider when suiting up to go play outside.

Doggonit!

So Callie, Marika and I spent a gorgeous Sunday afternoon lounging at Manresa State Beach, south of Santa Cruz. Marika and I were completely content to splash in the waves for a minute, then lay out on the warm sand in bathing suits and read novels. But for Callie -- being that she's a rather-dense, hyperactive dog -- this was not enough. She really wanted to dig stinky things out of the sand and chase the coastal birds.

After awhile, I decided a quick barefoot beach run might calm Callie, count for my daily run and warm me up enough to take one more dip in the water. Plus I was reading accounts of 30-mile overnight runs in "Ultramarathon Man" and felt a little lazy.

Callie and I took off down the beach at a good clip, running in the wet sand right at the tide line. Now my dog loves water but has a crippling fear of waves, so sticking to my right (where she is supposed to run) with waves crashing feet away was not going to work. Early into the run she pulled hard on the leash and darted in front of me.

I should have seen it coming, but I was watching the water and birds or taking in the sunshine or loving the sand underfoot -- something other than paying attention to the dog. I went down hard.

Now this wasn't just a trip. Try splatter. Belly-flop. Face-plant. And right on that hard, packed, wet sand. Did I mention I was THAT GIRL running in my bathing suit and hadn't worn sunscreen all weekend? My sun-burned belly became sand-scraped. Ouch!

So a woman walking toward me stared at the entire ungraceful episode, but said nothing. She would be the first of several inconsiderate (perhaps drunk on sunshine?) people Callie and I would encounter on our 30-minute beach run. But -- interestingly enough -- as we made our way up and down the sand, everyone who made our jaunt difficult were other dog owners.

There was cell phone guy with a Labradoodle that loped happily toward Callie, her loose leash dragging through the sand. Callie tugged mercilessly toward the free dog (but was luckily deterred by the incoming waves). Dude never bothered to get off the phone and get control of his dog.

We picked out turnaround point based on a trio of off-leash, rather unsupervised dogs because I knew full well Callie would pull like hell to join them, then the lackadaisical dog owners would freak out a little bit at her size and energy level and I would be left apologizing (even though they were the ones breaking the leash-your-dog beach rule).

But the most ridiculous encounter came at the very end as we neared the beach entrance. Several families with little kids were congregated there, the children wading in the water or digging in the sand. A seemingly unclaimed black and brown Australian shepherd wandered among the kids. Just as Callie and I got to the crowd, a small boy (maybe 3?) grabbed the shepherd's leash. Of course the dog walked toward us and Callie turned to jump (read: play). No parents moved toward the boy -- who probably weighed less than the dog at the other end of the rope he held) or yelled at him to move away. Callie and I stopped, she sat down and we calmly waited it out. Never did the mom (who wandered nearby) come over to corral her dog or check on the welfare of her child. Luckily, the moment passed without any teeth-barring or other calamities.

I love taking Callie to the beach for a nice romp and run. We chase birds and get wet and it's a grand time. But other dog owners, with their off-leash beasts, can really ruin our beach experience. I understand that everyone's dog is the best pet ever and wonderfully well-behaved. Sure. Except that's at home or in some other controlled environment the animal is comfortable with. The beach -- with water, people, creatures, smells, kids and all -- is not the same and that is one of the reasons why dogs are supposed to be leashed at most of these sandy sanctuaries. Otherwise they run after other dogs or skimboarders, ignore you while they chase birds a half-mile down the beach and alarm folks who aren't dog lovers like yourselves. It's not just your beach.

But if you really do feel comfortable letting your dog off-leash where it's not allowed, at least have the courtesy to grab ahold of its collar while my dog and I pass by. I really hate that dirty look you give me when my leashed dog charges playfully at your uncontrolled animal.

Good day

There's nothing like yanking yourself out of a warm bed in the pre-dawn hours for a morning run.

In that moment when the alarm (or, in my case, phone call from Mom) shocks you from your pleasant slumber and into the cold morning, going for a run is the last thing you want to do. It never feels good to peel off the blankets and stumble through the darkness to tug on shorts, a long sleeve and your stinky running shoes.

More sleep always seems like the better options. For me, this usually wins out unless I'm meeting someone for an easy 5-mile jaunt. But when there's someone waiting for me (and Callie, as exercising her is another big motivator) I can usually suck it up and get out the door.

The amazing thing about it is I always feel better after a before-work run. The day goes better and I'm more productive at work. I might be a bit tired and jittery from coffee (which seems to have more of a kick post-run), but I'm also happier.

So today -- even with its intermittent rain showers, fatal car crash and never-ending gang project interviews -- is great because Callie and I roused ourselves at 5:40 a.m., met Leslie for a 6 a.m. run on Pleasure Point and slogged through the rain for about 40 minutes.

The point? Get out there. It's worth it. You can always nap later.

Let's hope it's not foreshadowing

Maybe I haven't been running enough or perhaps I'm just too tired lately, but I've had a few really odd dreams the past couple of nights. In one, Callie bit someone in the face and we had to run away so she wouldn't have to be put down ... but that's not running-related.

The running nightmare was Big Sur. Yup, the marathon. The race that I consider MY marathon, that I'm set to run in oh, eight weeks.

There were lots of discrepancies in the dream, which give me hope that it wasn't some strange foreshadowing and actually just stress-induced. For example, I took long bathroom breaks in areas that looked a whole lot like Nisene Marks (a state park around here), not Big Sur. My sister was running the marathon with me, but in reality she's registered for the 10.6 mile race.

However, the end picture was still hard to shake off: me, sobbing. I was devastated because I'd run my slowest marathon time ever. It was something like 4:26, which isn't a time to sneer at, especially over the challenging hills of Big Sur. However, it's not the time I want to see when I trip across the finish line and awkwardly hug one of the greeters. Low-balling it, 4 hours would be cool.


(Sonja and I after last year's Big Sur Marathon)

I'm pretty sure I can chalk the dream (nightmare) up to fretting about not running enough in the past few days. I took three rest days this week and the blank spots in my running log (laying open on my nightstand) are looming large as a result. But the reality was life - namely work - got busy and I was tired. I ran this morning, will bike and run tomorrow, then swim and get in my first really long run Sunday. (Let's hope the iPod holds out for 2 1/2 hours!)

As a 7th grader, my favorite shirt was a purple T emblazoned with "Life is Running" and a big blue and white running shoe. Maybe that was true then, when the biggest drains on my time were English homework and staying up all night to watch MTV at a slumber party. Now I'm an adult (yipes!) with a 9-5 ... errr ... 8:30-7 job, a house to maintain, dog to take care of, among other things. I wish my life could be all training, but workouts have to fit around my grown-up responsibilities.

I think the eight weeks between now and the marathon are an eternity for training. I have a strong base, am biking and swimming also and will start logging those big miles this weekend. Although I haven't had a bad marathon in my four outings thus far, I'm crossing my fingers - and lacing up my shoes - so hopefully this won't be my time to tank. Maybe dreams don't come true?

When it's not in your head

Routinely, I'm reminded that even though I run alone quite a bit, I'm usually not alone.

I got out of work around 5:30 yesterday -- which constitutes early at my job -- so I jetted home to leash up Callie the dog and go for a nice dusk run through the neighborhood. Callie, of course, was stoked. Just the sight of her leash in my hands makes her jump in circles (I'm not lying about this). We loped through the neighborhood, cruising down some different streets to make the run longer because the evening, after a day of rain, had cleared nicely and the air smelled great. There was even still a little pink left in the corner of the sky, illuminating those receding rain clouds like cotton candy.

Along the way I chatted Callie about my day and, admittedly, was rather oblivious to the people around us. This happens a lot when I run. I forget that I'm talking aloud to myself or Callie, forget that other people are around ...

Last night, I got a couple of funny looks and one woman, who snuck up on us because of the darkness, declared "Oh, how cute!" I'd like to think me telling Callie about a guy I have a crush on was the cute part, but it might have just been Callie's furry 90 pounds thundering down the pavement.

It could have been worse, I suppose. Once, running out of Nisene Marks after tumbling down a hill, twisting my ankle and getting road (trail?) rash down one lower leg, I sang the chorus of Tim McGraw's "It's Just the Cowboy in Me" and cried to get through the pain of running 3.5 miles on two bum, bleeding legs. In the fall, when Rich and I ran that 50K in mountains here, I gave myself a four-miles-to-go pep talk that went something like this:

"You can run four miles Squires. You've run four miles before. You've run four miles backwards. You've run four miles in your sleep. You've run four miles drunk. You've run four miles naked. You've run four miles drunk, naked, backwards and in your sleep. It's just four miles"

There were young families walking baby strollers nearby. I think I scared them.

... At least Callie understands me.

25 Things

This has been floating around Facebook for a few days, but instead of telling you oddities from my childhood, I thought I'd make it 25 things about running. Actually, that will still include a lot of childhood moments, but with a theme!

1. I once got a free pair of 1993 Nike Air Max shoes for being filmed in a Nike commercial with champion decathlete Dan O'Brien. I ended up on the editing room floor and they used footage of my little sister instead. She got a couple hundred bucks for it, but I still had sweet shoes with the clear air bubbles in the soles.

2. My parents were so proud first time I was awarded a trophy for running (the Track City Track Club "Coach's Award" in 1989) that they got me a cake.

3. I nearly gave up running for racewalking...

4. ... because as a teenager I racewalked at nationals and placed in my age group.

5. I frequently get lost while trail running alone.

6. I never thought I'd be one of those people who need an iPod to get through a run, but I've come to rely on mine (broken screen and all) while on really long runs.

7. My first "run" was two laps around a cinder track with my black rubber boots on the wrong feet. As a high schooler - and much to my chagrin - my dad (and coach) told this story at every cross country and track awards night to show how far I'd come. Now I think it's kind of cute.

8. I think running shorts might be my best look.

9. I've never been fast, but I can run forever.

10. For about five years, I insisted on wearing my hair in braided pigtails for races. The fad ended for me partway through college.

11. I've never dropped out of a race. Ever.

12. My favorite place to run in Santa Cruz is Nisene Marks. Back home, it's Dorris Ranch, an old filbert orchard-turned-city park.

13. I've been accused of caring about running more than relationships with people, and I'm OK with that.

14. When I won the 1,500 meters at the 6th grade track meet, I saved my T-shirt and shorts (and the ribbon I won) in a clothing box and retired it to the attic for posterity. I'm pretty sure they're still up there.

15. I learned how to drive by making slow loops around the high school track in our 1976 extended cab two-tone Ford pickup. Then I crashed into a fence.

16. I didn't think I would ever run a marathon, but I got tricked into training for one when I moved to Santa Cruz. Now I've finished four and one ultra.

17. I hate track workouts. Running laps makes me dizzy.

18. My favorite post-run treat is a soy mocha with whipped cream and chocolate shavings from Aptos Coffee Roasters, sometimes accompanied by a toasted bagel with cream cheese.

19. Save one spring of kiddie soccer and a couple summers on the company softball team, I've never been on a team that wasn't running-oriented.

20. I love running with dogs, but don't have great luck with it. Once, a dog ran me through a yellow jacket hive and the family dog we got when I was in high school - Miles, so he could run miles and miles with me - was a herding dog. You might say that endeavor fell flat. My dog now, Callie, pulled so hard when I first got her, I strained my Achilles.

21. I ran in college for a few years. I find many people don't know this about me.

22. Even though I know better - and my mother always urges me to - I never carry pepper spray.

23. As a first grader, I told my classmates I'd win an Olympic gold medal in the 800m someday. Later, I made a list of accomplishments I'd need to achieve on my way to that golden goal, then tore it to pieces a few years later when I realized I was already off-track.

24. I have an amazing ability to run a finish line crew. It's a gift, really.

25. After a lot of thought, I decided running was up there on the list of things that are most important to me, so last weekend I covered up a bad tattoo from college with the winged track shoe icon. I haven't told Mom yet ...