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The official Chino Hills snub is finally over. The OCTR drove, got yelled at, chatted, ran, chatted, hydrated, peed a few times, chatted and then drove home.

The North Irvine 24-Hour Fitness team of Skip & Wendy beat me with ease (in the GT) to the agreed upon parking spot. No doubt they spent the night in Yorba Linda at the No Tell Motel to guarantee victory. I’m having my Jeep engine turbo charged on Tuesday due to the embarrassing loss.

As the host with the most, Eric graciously welcomed us. He was directing car and runner traffic like a Four Season concierge. He brandished the pirate leg look with a patch over his right knee cap. That’s what happens when you pass the Chuckster in a sanctioned ultra event. The running gods pinch a few tendons and tell you to sit down while Chaz takes strip tease aerobics at The Women’s Gym in Laguna. Leading us to the park entrance, Eric handled the run briefing as he jointly pointed to the hills congruently with a massive 3D trail map incased in some type of forestry kiosk.

I’m still blown away by the full color Chino Hills State Park trail maps which were adequately stocked for the public taking. These maps are glossy, multi-fold publications. To a male runner, these paper aids cause drooling just as if leafing thru an actual Playboy. I grabbed two incase one got all stuck together when using it for future bathroom reading. If you’ve ever seen the County provided maps at Whiting Ranch you’ll know why I was so impressed with the Chino Hills artistry. The Whiting Map looks like a good Baz effort if you can even say “good-Baz-effort” in the same sentence. The Chino Hills map belongs at camp Disney. It’s a great map!

Anyway, Eric was shouting directions with last minute trail descriptions when we got yelled at by Meatloaf’s wife for waking her baby (Chuckie). We were polite to our accuser but all wondering how this woman got a date much less conceive a child. Maybe if she got off the couch and came running with us she’d be in a better mood. Funny how people can live on a trail and never run it, have a house at the beach and never surf or have a pool and never use it. It seems to be human nature that if you have something, you rest in the knowledge that you can partake but don’t.

After being accosted by the local element, we hit the trail and were off on some very nice single track. Running through the middle of the park (I knew it was the middle because I had this cool map) and pushing slightly uphill we passed a rusted out 68 Belvedere. I knew it was a 68 Belvedere because I’ve seen Skip drive one when his father’s Lexus is unavailable. For those of you who don’t know, Skip lives at home and Wendy is his dad’s personal assistant. It all falls into place doesn’t it?

Rob and Keira were out front early but their running gates looked slightly hitched. Rob had recently completed the Rocky Raccoon 100 miler last Saturday and Keira had just finished carrying Greg up and down Saddleback Mountain for 12 hours last Sunday; it’s military code to never leave you wing man even if he’s wearing a scrunchie. According to Rob, his toenails had died or were in the process of falling off. He picks them off like peel & eat shrimp; wonder what he prefers for dipping sauce, Ranch or Honey Mustard? As for Keira, have you seen anybody with more hydration options? Her personal monthly water intake bill is higher than her family Chevron credit card statement. I’ve seen astronauts, fixing the outside casings of a space station, with less hydration support. You never know when the planet might completely run out of water so best to be prepared.

Three miles into the run we all meet at “Four Corners” and socialized for a few minutes. Is it me, or is “Four Corners” the most over used trail junction name in the entire universe? There is a “Four Corners” in every run. First, there aren’t usually any corners at these junctions and many times it more like three, five or six trails converging on one spot. This particular “Four Corners” should have been called “Four Benches and a Burned-Out Roof.” It would not surprise me if Jessica’s 24 hour loop event doesn’t have a “Four Corners.”

We left “Redundant Names Corner” and headed through some nifty single track on our way up a steep hill and back down again to where we started. At this juncture, I was running with the Skip and Wendy duo. Wendy starting giving me flack about some run/exercise schedule I put together for her first marathon; must have been the outlandish charge which justified the scrutiny. Wendy was worried that she wouldn’t be able to lift weights with the new regime. Her biceps are bigger than mine so I’m thinking she should just take steroids and we’ll start calling her Wendal in 2008.

About this time, I began hearing strange rumblings on the trail. I figured it was Skip letting out a few Ensure induced air pressure leaks. I carefully moved in front of Skip and let Eric L deal with the potential skunk residual. Did Skip need a Beano in Chino? Butt, as the rumblings got louder, I realized it was the hills that were alive with the sound of music and not Skip. I always give the Inland Empire a hard time and figure everyone has a crack pipe and now it appears even the hills have their own pipes. Cutting through the length of Chino Hills State Park is a massive Southern Californian Gas pipeline that generates a dull roar in select spots along the trail. Exposed in some places, covered in others, the gas line adds an eerie rumble which I found exciting. Good thing Kyle wasn’t there. He could have had a cigarette relapse and we all would’ve been blown to Kingdome come.

Lisa invited a very nice friend to meet up with the group. I can’t remember her name because I am too self-absorbed but, I’m sure somebody does. Person with no name twisted her ankle at mile five and she was done. What is it about the trails? They are relentless, especially on street runners. We all gave Lisa’s friend the “awe, that’s too bad” but deep down inside we were all thinking about Greg’s hair and whether he should use a relaxer or neutralizing agent.

For as short as Eric L has been running trails, he looked pretty comfortable. My prediction is he’ll be a force within six months if he doesn’t trip over Paul’s tripod. Recaps with Eric and Eric will be a confusing nightmare. Pete, the new blogger, was carrying dual hydration bottles which, from a distance, made him look like he was arm curling for an additional work out. Don’t tell Keira there’s liquid in those dumbbells; she’ll hover over like a parched humming bird and drain you dry.

The trial has tons of elevation changes and it’s easy to see why Eric is such a strong runner. If you ran this tract on a regular basis your legs would experience a bit of everything. At mile 9, Beiyi, blares out “let’s go”! That was like having Charles Manson telling us not to be so violent. I looked around for Rod Serling and listened for the Twilight Zone theme song to no avail. It was a classic moment.

Towards the end, I got lost and had to run a ½ mile back to “Two Corners” as we attacked the last single track back to the now legendary kiosk. Eric, like The Love Boat’s Captain Stubbin, was graciously awaiting our return as the consummate host and gentleman. We all chatted for awhile, looked around for Kim French, and then took off. I get the feeling we’ll have to organize a Saturday run at Nordstrom or some day spa if we want to train with Kim.

In the parting conversation it’s discovered that Keira runs 80 miles per week with some days where she only runs twice; six miles in the a.m. and eight miles in the p.m. I think she conclude with some ridiculous statement like “I’m not totally nuts.” OK, righ
t! If you say so.

Here is the funniest part of the morning. These gems always occur outside the actual runs. On our drive home, Lisa, Keira, Rob and I are having our own four corner conversation when we realize that Rob is also taking on his cell. He switches back and forth, in both conversations, with ease and its difficult telling that he is actually having two separate conversations; kind of Rain Man ish. So, as friends do, we eavesdrop and discover that he’s giving trail directions to somebody who’s obviously in the middle of their own run. He tells them, “you have to go past the big tree, around the trashcan and down the path with the pink ribbon.” We’re all thinking he must be referring to a spot near his home or somewhere he frequents. He hangs up and we inquire where the runner was that he was talking to. He replies “Seattle.” On Thursday, the OCTR got lost and kicked off private land by Ranch Security only three miles from my front door. I think we found our new group navigator. I’m dropping my Garmin GPS and picking up the OCTR Rob option.

All in all, Chino Hills is a fantastic spot to run. Rumor has it that green plants emerge (not cannabis) at some point during the year. Jessica got extreme buy flying to Thailand to avoid the run but for those of you who think there is No Chi in Chino, you’re sadly mistaken. The place has some magic hills and during mid summer/mid day is no doubt a great place for Bad Water training.