Horse Trails Run: Me and the Millionaires
Okay. Let’s just get this over with.
I got us lost.
I bonked big time.
I finished completely spent.
Today our marathon training group set out on a new course that began and ended at San Dieguito County Park in Solana Beach. Don’t let the “beach” fool you, this was all inland and featured plenty of butt-busting, lung-burning hills to humble everyone. But it also was a gorgeous treat to run among the beautiful people, or at least their high-priced properties. You see, the route ran through the gated-and-guard-dogged countryside of Rancho Santa Fe, home to rock stars, sports moguls and just plain super rich people. The Eagles’ Joe Walsh lives here. The late McDonald’s heiress Joan Kroc did, too. Bill Gates has a vacation home he probably doesn’t even know about.
The map had my group doing a 10-mile loop with a 2-mile “lip” to add on mileage. We were expected to finish in 2 hours, time-padding provided for those walking the steepest of the trail hills. I’d gotten up early to drink my laxative-like hot tea in plenty of time. For a change, I ate a bowl of Grape Nuts instead of my usual peanut butter toast. Still feeling a little sick for the past week, I took a cherry-flavored TheraFlu strip. I’d been on TheraFlu for a few days, but this was the first time I’d tried the tongue strip. I mistakenly also washed down two Extra-Strength Tylenol capsules out of habit about 10 minutes later, just before I hit the door to pick up my carpool.
The first stretch along scenic Sun Valley and Ladera Sarina roads led to the first trail with a huge hill. I noticed someone scrambling from side to side, rather than cautiously heading straight down the dirt slope, and began to follow. That strategy served me well. Getting back up to the top wasn’t so easy. By the time I reached the crest and hit the first water stop, my legs were wobbly. Matter of fact, my whole body shook.
Things mercifully leveled off for awhile, even if the shaking didn’t. After the third water station, the intermediate group was to head one way and the beginners another. The intermediate turnaround wasn’t as clearly marked as I thought, and let’s just say that we went a little farther than expected and on the return we went on an even longer detour. This might be a good time to remind everyone I’m a YeHa, a run leader. Not only that, I’m the YeHaBoBo -- second-in-command among run leaders. One thing we’re supposed to know is the course, or at least how to read a map.
Eventually, my group got back on track, while others miraculously found the way on their own. The road we took to the next batch of loamy trails was twisty and far from flat, but we had fun guessing the houses’ inhabitants and jokingly wondering if there was a payment plan for a kid’s treehouse we spotted, the only structure any of us might afford here. (And that would be a stretch.)
I was running with a different group now that had a good pace going up the hill. Then, soon after we were back on the trails, I got the spins. They came on so suddenly that I thought I was mistaken; however, within a minute, I was forced to walk. A second-year marathoner named Marissa offered to stick with me. We tried to restart the run midway through, but the nausea soon overcame me again. I decided to ask for a ride back at the next water stop. I’d done at least 10 miles by then, thanks to the detours, and had been at it for 1:45. Yeah, it was that hard a course.
Marissa continued on while I downed some Gatorade and then sat down on the side of the road with my head between my knees. Minutes and many Mercedes passed by. Two women who had come up from the wrong way also opted for a ride back. One was Sylvia, part of my carpool. The other was Eileen, who’s run marathons for 25 years. I guess about 5+ minutes had passed when I stood and saw a group of women, who turned out to be the last pack, enter the aid station. I asked if they were going the final 3 miles and they said yes. “I’ll go with you guys,” I said. “And I’ll go with you,” Eileen said to me. Sylvia would materialize on the course in the final stretch.
Eileen kept me going with her diet suggestions and positive outlook on life. Sylvia had given me a Clif Shot Blox at the aid station. When the old symptoms surfaced again with a mile to go, I wondered if that was the culprit. Then it dawned on me: TheraFlu. Accidentally chased down with super-strong Tylenol. It explained the shakes, the dizziness and the upset stomach
“That’s it,” I said to myself as I walked the last dirt trail alone to the finish. “No more doping.”
I’d like to say that the warm reception I received when I finally came into view at the rotunda, site of our post-run picnic, was well-deserved. It certainly was well received, with me giving two thumbs down while smiling. I think a few people were worried I’d never show. (And I had the car keys!) I was delighted to see my granola gobbled up. And to see Tara and Louise and Stephen and Jim and Jamison and Cuong and so many other familiar faces.
I hope everyone else is someday as fortunate as I am to train with people who treat you as if you came in first, even when you actually finished last.
I got us lost.
I bonked big time.
I finished completely spent.
Today our marathon training group set out on a new course that began and ended at San Dieguito County Park in Solana Beach. Don’t let the “beach” fool you, this was all inland and featured plenty of butt-busting, lung-burning hills to humble everyone. But it also was a gorgeous treat to run among the beautiful people, or at least their high-priced properties. You see, the route ran through the gated-and-guard-dogged countryside of Rancho Santa Fe, home to rock stars, sports moguls and just plain super rich people. The Eagles’ Joe Walsh lives here. The late McDonald’s heiress Joan Kroc did, too. Bill Gates has a vacation home he probably doesn’t even know about.
The map had my group doing a 10-mile loop with a 2-mile “lip” to add on mileage. We were expected to finish in 2 hours, time-padding provided for those walking the steepest of the trail hills. I’d gotten up early to drink my laxative-like hot tea in plenty of time. For a change, I ate a bowl of Grape Nuts instead of my usual peanut butter toast. Still feeling a little sick for the past week, I took a cherry-flavored TheraFlu strip. I’d been on TheraFlu for a few days, but this was the first time I’d tried the tongue strip. I mistakenly also washed down two Extra-Strength Tylenol capsules out of habit about 10 minutes later, just before I hit the door to pick up my carpool.
The first stretch along scenic Sun Valley and Ladera Sarina roads led to the first trail with a huge hill. I noticed someone scrambling from side to side, rather than cautiously heading straight down the dirt slope, and began to follow. That strategy served me well. Getting back up to the top wasn’t so easy. By the time I reached the crest and hit the first water stop, my legs were wobbly. Matter of fact, my whole body shook.
Things mercifully leveled off for awhile, even if the shaking didn’t. After the third water station, the intermediate group was to head one way and the beginners another. The intermediate turnaround wasn’t as clearly marked as I thought, and let’s just say that we went a little farther than expected and on the return we went on an even longer detour. This might be a good time to remind everyone I’m a YeHa, a run leader. Not only that, I’m the YeHaBoBo -- second-in-command among run leaders. One thing we’re supposed to know is the course, or at least how to read a map.
Eventually, my group got back on track, while others miraculously found the way on their own. The road we took to the next batch of loamy trails was twisty and far from flat, but we had fun guessing the houses’ inhabitants and jokingly wondering if there was a payment plan for a kid’s treehouse we spotted, the only structure any of us might afford here. (And that would be a stretch.)
I was running with a different group now that had a good pace going up the hill. Then, soon after we were back on the trails, I got the spins. They came on so suddenly that I thought I was mistaken; however, within a minute, I was forced to walk. A second-year marathoner named Marissa offered to stick with me. We tried to restart the run midway through, but the nausea soon overcame me again. I decided to ask for a ride back at the next water stop. I’d done at least 10 miles by then, thanks to the detours, and had been at it for 1:45. Yeah, it was that hard a course.
Marissa continued on while I downed some Gatorade and then sat down on the side of the road with my head between my knees. Minutes and many Mercedes passed by. Two women who had come up from the wrong way also opted for a ride back. One was Sylvia, part of my carpool. The other was Eileen, who’s run marathons for 25 years. I guess about 5+ minutes had passed when I stood and saw a group of women, who turned out to be the last pack, enter the aid station. I asked if they were going the final 3 miles and they said yes. “I’ll go with you guys,” I said. “And I’ll go with you,” Eileen said to me. Sylvia would materialize on the course in the final stretch.
Eileen kept me going with her diet suggestions and positive outlook on life. Sylvia had given me a Clif Shot Blox at the aid station. When the old symptoms surfaced again with a mile to go, I wondered if that was the culprit. Then it dawned on me: TheraFlu. Accidentally chased down with super-strong Tylenol. It explained the shakes, the dizziness and the upset stomach
“That’s it,” I said to myself as I walked the last dirt trail alone to the finish. “No more doping.”
I’d like to say that the warm reception I received when I finally came into view at the rotunda, site of our post-run picnic, was well-deserved. It certainly was well received, with me giving two thumbs down while smiling. I think a few people were worried I’d never show. (And I had the car keys!) I was delighted to see my granola gobbled up. And to see Tara and Louise and Stephen and Jim and Jamison and Cuong and so many other familiar faces.
I hope everyone else is someday as fortunate as I am to train with people who treat you as if you came in first, even when you actually finished last.
