"Yo Quiero Taco Bell"
For my first official training workout, Coach Charlie ordered me to sprint continuously through a Taco Bell drive-thru for 12 hours, figuring the food, engine heat and catalytic emissions would simulate the Costa Rica environment. 
“Mild or Spicy? Mild or Spicy? Mild or Spicy?” The repetitive badgering of the window cashier was torturous but will serve me well when I hit the Route of Fire initial aid station: “Greg, you look tired, would you like an e-Gel or Gu, e-Gel or Gu, e-Gel or Gu?”
With my Taco Bell training I'll respond appropriately: “I’ll take the Pico de Gallo.”
Coach Charlie is like that: a true visionary (Pet Rock type stuff). He contacted local favorite Carl’s Jr. but they didn’t seem overly committed to the Green Burrito acquisition; at some locations not at others. It’s a DNF merger lurking at mile 22 and really bad karma for training.
Figuring that indecisive commuters trying to navigate Mexican combo meals long-term would be too much of a distraction, I hit an actual trail for my second official Coastal Challenge training – even though the race is seven months away.
So, anyway, I did a 17-mile loop in Silverado Canyon a few weeknights ago – at 5:45 p.m. We would need our headlamps. For those of you who don’t live in Orange County (and the majority of those who do), Silverado Canyon is a dentistry-optional enclave of about 1,400 recovering addicts located in the Santa Ana Mountains ridiculously close to the “909.”
In these parts, a full set of teeth is considered “Bling.”
With an average temperature of around 70, and humidity not even close to that of Rosie O’Donnell’s armpit, I admit: This run didn’t exactly mimic Costa Rica conditions. But the hills gave me a great workout. I worked up more lather than Paris did on the hood of that Buick, in those Carl’s Jr. TV commercials... Or was it a Prius?
The run had an overall elevation gain of 4,495, with an average ascent grade of 13 percent. Going up the Silverado Motorway at the start, a roughly 2.5-mile singletrack that is very steep with loose rocks, is good training for anything. I recommend it to budding serial killers who want to look fit should their life story be made into a feature film, and the brooding young hunk of the day is signed to play them.
The rest of the 17-mile loop is rolling fireroad, with some stout climbs. The last nine miles are all downhill, including three miles of pavement for the final, uh, sprint, back to the trailhead.
While running down the Maple Springs trail after climbing Main Divide, we heard the comforting blasts of several gunshots. Running guest Officer Jerry Armstrong, a rising ultrarunner star from San Diego, happens to be a SWAT sniper. So the shots just generated cravings for donuts sprinkled with dry HEED. Turns out some local beer fans were “hunting.’’ Right. And I’m Eric Clifton (nice tights, Eric).
Now, I’ve never been to Costa Rica (or anywhere in Central America, although I loved “Commando” – wasn’t that set in those parts?), but I figure the sound of gunshots may become useful should I venture off course during the Coastal Challenge and end up in the middle of some drug lord’s poppy field; “say hello to my little friend.” 
At a minimum, the blasts will remind me of good ol’ Santa Ana – the heart of Orange County, where Desperate Housewives rarely venture and obnoxious teens from “Laguna Beach” believe lives Santa Claus’ less fortunate Latino brother.
Ciao for now.
Keep cool, drink ice water.
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