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Where to begin therundown.net re-cap of the Orange County Trail Runners’ epic 2007 St. Patty’s Day adventure run is the challenge. It looks like we’ll have to go back one day.

It’s Friday 3/16/07 and I decide to cross train. First, I pound the LifeCycle for one hundred twelve minutes and fry my chicken legs. Next, I waddle over to 24 Hour Fitness Pick-Up Bar & Grill to swim one hundred laps and then lift weights while checking myself out in the fun house type mirrors. I’m cooked but, what the heck; taking Saturday off to coach Little League. The family eats dinner at Red Robin and being psycho about body fat, I order a dinky salad with some plastic animal figures tossed in. Does everything in a family theme restaurant have to mimic a McDonald’s Happy Meal? Had the establishment played The Carpenters, instead of hip-hop, maybe I order the mushroom burger and purge in the restroom. Who knows, it’s all speculation. A few merry-go-round trips with the boys, a churro and we’re all back home clicking through emails like sugar junkies. What could possibly invade my INBOX to alter tomorrow’s laid back plans?

And, there it was!

From: Andy Hersam
Subject: Stuck in Laguna Beach…need a long run.

Andy is the VP/Publisher of Runner’s World Magazine and produces today’s modern day runner’s bible; it’s like getting an email from royalty or say Dean Karnazes. I’m just being honest. You can’t allocate too much Pentium when it comes to opening up these emails. However, it did make me ponder. Can you actually get “stuck” in Laguna Beach? Is there no way out, no possible escape? When someone’s stranded, due to airlines or lousy weather, don’t they normally contact you from some dingy no-tell motel, a gas station or random bus depot? Stuck in Laguna Beach at the Surf & Sand Hotel! Is that even possible? I was immediately concerned about Andy’s well being. Would he get hit up for energy gel by some starving artist, forced off his balcony’s teak furniture during high tide or potentially choke on happy-hour tiger shrimp? More on that later.

I immediately checked the Orange County Trail Runner’s (theOCTR.org) online calendar to scan Saturday’s run options. Skip Molina (the Skipster) had posted a nice St. Patty’s Day sixteen mile up and back that looked like a good fit. Andy needed to log twenty miles for his 2007 Boston Marathon training and I figured if, after the gain/loss, he still craved a few more miles then we could find some asphalt and top off the run. After an email exchange, Andy and I are set to meet with fifteen OCTR runners at 7 a.m. Saturday morning. I hustle around to pack-up a few items and hit the sack at 12:30 a.m.

St. Patty’s Day morning arrives quickly. I grab my now stuffed thirty pound hydration pack and hit the door. I swing by and pick up Twin Peaks Ultra Marathon RD Jessica Deline and we’re at the designated parking lot by 6:45 a.m.; Cook’s Corner at the base of 5,695 foot Saddleback Mountain. Santiago Peak, the summit of Saddleback Mountain, is the highest point in Orange County, California. Andy arrives, we make a few quick intros, snap a group photo and it’s a ½ mile uphill asphalt jog to the trail entrance. We give Andy a small taste of cement and some swearing to make the Big Apple runner feel more at home.

Mostly because of the name, I’ve steered my toboggan clear of the infamous Luge Trail. Today, we begin by running up the steep singletrack “Luge” because I see so many Olympic luge teams take the shacane at an incline. That statement makes no sense but either does running up this path. It’s a downer for sure in the most positive way. The group spreads out as we scramble like rattled sheep up the west face. With my binoculars, I can see Andy and Michelle Barton out front chatting away. At this point, about half way up the Luge, I can’t even say my name and start thinking about golf carts and how nifty they silently negotiating those mini-paths. The little pencils affixed the steering wheels are irritating but, I’d trade my Adidas Supernovas about now for a nice pair of FootJoy soft spikes, a wicked slice and a lousy cigar.

Having reached the top of the Luge, the lead group is now snapping photos around the legendary flag pole which patriotically displays the United States and California State flags. As the early mist fades, the spectacular view starts unfolding over the sleepy land mass below. It’s time for the group to peel a few technical layers and start pilfering items from my hydration/backpack. At this juncture, Keira Henninger (women’s 3rd place 2006 SJT50K) and Marisa Willment (previous winner of the WTRS) both hit me up for water. We’ve been running for a whopping thirty minutes and I’m being drained like an unwanted boil. Having traveled within this circle before, I was H2O prepared. I’ve been called a rainmaker but, I think that was in reference to something else. Keira could be in the middle of a purified lake and ask for water. She needs to eat more roughage or sea sponge. Aside from the 100 oz. North Face Megamouth Hydration Pack (can’t say enough about this product), I had packed another four 25 oz. bottles for roughly 200 oz. of mobile water; nice & light. You would think that would be enough water for a sixteen mile out and back; should have paid better attention in math class.

The Santiago Truck Trail would be our next four mile endeavor. It’s an uphill venture but has a gradual nature and allows for environmental appreciation. I haven’t the foggiest idea how this trail got the name. I can’t imagine a motorcycle, much less a truck making its way up this road. Was a vintage truck the width of a SubZero (SubZ if you’re in the know)? Maybe it’s really the Santiago Trunk Trail. That would match up nicely with the actual width of the road. Ninety percent of this trail is non-technical singletrack and doesn’t accommodate side-by-side running. To put in perspective, the only OC trail any thinner would be my every shrinking career path. We’re talking skinny here.

Reaching the top of the Santiago Truck Trail, we take a steep ½ mile technical track down to historic Old Camp. Old Camp still harbors the makeshift stone fire ring used by horse thieves and Indians long before the great Target and Starbucks chieftains shifted to retail. The lead group was down from fifteen runners to eight and we took a short break to hydrate, ingest a few calories and snap a photo. Keira, Michelle and Marisa used me like a mobile convenience store and re-filled their water bottles. Keira has to head back to meet the Sparklett’s driver and Marisa splits to watch her children compete in some silly Olympic swim trials thing (sarcasm). Hanging out with these fit moms is like having superheroes as friends. I was planning on having my car washed later and think maybe I should do it myself.

At this point, I fully expect to make the short climb out Old Camp and coast down the Santiago Truck Trail headed back to the Luge for some sweat decline revenge. I obviously missed the group vibe because I’m the only one thinking small. Instead, the crew decides that a two mile climb up the Joplin trial is more in order. I just look at Andy and pray he is weak like me but no chance. Both he and Michelle Barton start up the Joplin Trail with me mumbling incoherently in the background. My backpack feels like the old sofa making the banished move to the upstairs bonus room.

A short strategy point on the Joplin Trail before continuing. The Luge is a small, flat coffee table with a mixed nut bowl compared to the Joplin Trail. And Michelle Barton is not the person you want pacing you up that particular track. I’ve only been following the female ultra phenomenon for a short time but let’s review her February 2007 credentials; overall winner (yes, beating the guys) Twin Peaks 50K, overall female winner Orange Curtain 50K (pavement), overall female winner Baz Hawley’s Winter Trail Race Series, women’s second place age group winner Way Too Cool 50K. Do I need to mention she won the women’s 2006 Javelina 100 mile romp? I most likely missed some accolade but, you get the gist. I refer to her as the iMichelle. If Apple designed a female ultra runner, they would use Michelle Barton for the blueprint. I’m trying to patent her.

In summary, if you’re running up Joplin, it’s best to leave the iMichelle at home in the charger. I’m thinking Oprah, John Goodman or Rosie are better choices for tackling the incline. Somebody funny and real slow if I’m not being clear enough.

After posting two blistering twenty three minute miles, we emerge from the Joplin ladder and finally set foot on the infamous North Main Divide. Most people are unaware that the dirt North Main Divide travels from South Orange County all the way down to San Diego.   Rob Cowan and Kevin Nessman, who likely ran up Joplin for more than half way, were practically sitting in lawn furniture sunning when we eventually caught up. Rob took 19th in this year’s Rocky Raccoon 100 and Kevin is just nutty fast, fit and smart. Rob’s nickname is Rob100. If you go on a training run with Rob, it’s going to be the equivalent of a full marathon if it’s a mile. He is the most enthusiastic OC long runner I’ve ever met. He also happens to be a complete nut case and needs serious therapy.

At this juncture, well over two hours into the run, we’re all standing in the lower, middle swag between Modjeska and Santiago Peak at approximately 5,015 feet. Santiago Peak is home to more communication antennas and relays than you’ll find anywhere in “The OC” yet, offers no cell reception. Can you hear me? Can you hear me now? I hand out a few gels, we drink some of our shrinking water supply and soak in the sights. Heading West on The North Main Divide we need to run slightly uphill for another mile before heading down towards the never ending Harding Trail. We start moving again and it feels nice running on a dirt road wider than an RV closet. The view from here is surreal. You’re in heavily developed South Orange County and all you can see is row after row of mountain ranges and rolling hills. Off in the distance, peering thru the clouds, is San Clemente Island. This small land mass use to get blown to smithereens by Camp Pendleton artillery squads until an endangered goat squashed all bomb dropping plans.

Up and then down one more mile the North Main Divide connects with The Harding Trail and Maple Springs Road. This intersection is home to the Twin Peaks Ultra Marathon initial aid station and exactly nine miles from Tucker Wildlife Sanctuary. We run into 66 year old 100 miler veteran Hwa Ja Andrade training solo by trekking twenty eight miles to the top of Santiago Peak and back. Her legs are muscular and look like they belong to a twenty six year old. It’s about this time I sense the group is getting weary. Forget about Rob100, he’s just warming up and I think Kevin was mentally planning his next two hundred mile bike ride. We were all low on water and my best guess had us twenty minutes before completely running dry as a group. The outside temperature was rising and all were experiencing some level of dehydration. We still had nine miles to go. Take a fall, throw in some snow and Mount Hood comes to mind.

Eight miles remaining and it hits me. It’s at these points, during a long run, when you start asking internal questions. Why didn’t I pack more gels? Why didn’t I eat some breakfast? Why didn’t I get some sleep? Why don’t I play more weekend shuffle board? We’ve got a tough eight miles to go and all six runners don’t have one ounce of water between them. However, we have Rob100 and he is as closest thing to Man vs. Wild’s Bear Grylls. His MacGyverish plan is to run ahead and locate the elusive Laurel Springs trail which through legend hides a natural spring used to water horses in the late 1940s. It’s 2007, and if you leave a full Propel in your front yard someone steals it. Natural, unpolluted spring water twenty-five minutes from Disneyland? As the weak link, if things go sour I’ll be the main course. Donner, party of five, your table is ready. I’m concerned.

There happens to be one small spot on this section of rock that actually receives a decent cell signal and we’re standing on it. Andy borrows my phone and calls his hotel to reschedule his 80 minute massage. I can’t wait to hear this explanation. “I’m on the side of a mountain with no food or water, been running for four hours and have two more hours to go so I’m going be a tad late.” I suggested he order Perrier from room service and have it delivered to room 911. Apparently, room service doesn’t serve this side of the mountain until after 5 p.m. At this rate, we may qualify in a few hours.

Rob100 and Kevin have long gone to locate Laurel Springs Trail which will lead to some mystical natural water source. Andy, Michelle, Pam and I begin the three mile run to Laurel Springs for what type of water we can only imagine. As thirsty as we are, I don’t think flavor, color or texture was a concern. Stale rain water caught in a rusted out beer can would suffice.   However, with no viable alternative the task and potential pay off gives the bonkers a lift and we start to make decent time down Harding. When we find Rob100 and Kevin they’re standing underneath the sixty year old Laurel Springs sign and next to one of the most overgrown declining single tracks I’ve seen. It’s all for one and one for all, we’re down the trail in search of water. If we come up empty, the climb back out to Harding will be demoralizing.

I must watch too much Jimmy Neutron but a natural spring in my mind is a perfect circle with crystal blue water bubbling up from below. We located the elusive Laurel spring but it more resembles a large shirt food stain. If the mountain was a person and it was bleeding, that’s what the spring looked like. The surrounding area was surreal with a thick tree canopy covering the entire area. Two cement boxes with stagnant water lay about twenty feet apart. The fresh water was literally trickling out of a small muddy crevasse just above one of the man made enclosures. The water was spilling out just far enough off the dirt to skillfully angle a water bottle and capture the single rarest substance in the entire universe. It took roughly two minutes to fill a twenty-two ounce bottle. We were thirsty and it seemed like an eternity but we all drank at least one full bottle and then re-filled for the approximate five mile run to civilization. This watering hole was our Leprechaun’s pot of gold and we made out with a good portion of his stash. The water, shade and short rest was great recovery medicine and we cheerfully climbed out to Harding and began the final leg of our journey.

Pam Everet is as hard core. She’s run so many street races I can’t even list them. I think she completed the Chicago Marathon a few years back in 3:21 so she’s no slouch. However, this run was a bit more than a run. In fact, it was more like a survival drill than anything else. About ten minutes after re-hydrating, Pam was standing in the middle of the Harding Trail searching for food. I looked for Andy but he was too far out front. I thought a homeless, begging person might mentally shift him back to NY. Pam knew I had one last Clif Bar and was willing to pay any amount to eat it. Instead of getting jacked, I gladly handed over my last meal and watched her devour it. Five minutes later, she was feeling good and moving well. Food, novel concept.

About a mile out, you can see the Tucker Wildlife Sanctuary. Funny how the mind works. The second I saw it, I got an adrenaline rush and the previous twenty miles melted away. Any leg pain or soreness I had been feeling was gone. Andy was about 1/3 of a mile in front off me so I stepped up to an 8:30 pace and proceeded down hill. Catching up to Andy, Michelle and Keven we all jogged the last ½ mile onto the welcomed pavement of the Tucker parking lot. We were done, running that is.

The Tucker Wildlife Sanctuary vending machine was one of our key motivators to get off the mountain. I could hear the melodic electric buzz from a hundred yards away. What does that sign say? OUT OF ORDER. Like a nine year old finding out Santa was really Dad, my heart sunk. I could almost hear those little aluminum cans laughing inside their rectangular fortress. Fine, expire you carbonated cowards! They sell soft drinks in the small Tucker museum/curio shop but the attendant was nowhere to be found. However, starvation or thirst can motivate you to do certain things. Without hesitation and after unsuccessfully locating a Tucker staff member, we raided the back refrigerator and helped ourselves to the best tasting soft drinks ever. Keeping track of our consumption, we explained the situation to the eventual cashier. She was a friend of the Twin Peaks Ultra Marathon and after Andy paid (only one with a real job), she dropped all charges. With three miles of paved road between us and our cars, we call Jessica to shuttle the six of us back to Cooks Corner and the birth place of our sixteen mile run (right).

For me, St. Patty’s Day use to be about Irish Pubs, Jameson Whiskey and green beer. That was followed up by a wicked hangover and bathroom trips to honor the porcelain goddess. Maybe I’m just a stiff but on this particular St. Patty’s day, I had no interest in the traditional jubilation. I only felt like doing one thing. I wanted to trail run with my friends and as fate would have it, that’s exactly what I did.

Click here for The St. Patty’s Day Run music/slide show.
http://runner.phanfare.com

Your health is your wealth,

Charlie Nickell
www.therundown.net

Great local Saddleback Mountain running events and groups.

Baz Hawley’s Winter Trail Run Series & San Juan Trail 50K
http://www.sshs57.com/BAZ/Races.htm

Twin Peaks Ultra Marathon 50K / 50 Miler
http://www.twinpeakstrailmarathon.com/

The Orange County Trail Runners
http://www.octrailrunners.org/