Taken the next morning but written about today:
I have in my notes that after my run on the exposed highway the day before my arms were blistering with sunburn. My calves had already blistered early on in the trek.
I used the route the girls used the previous year to get around Vandenberg Air Force Base, instead of Highway 1. I assumed their way was efficient and that the maps might not have been updated recently. I didn't want to have to backtrack. I wrote that Brown Road goes through the base, so I took the alternate bike path, as the girls had done.
I wrote that, "sometimes this trip feels like a dream, sometimes like a nightmare."
I headed out of Lompoc, I had slept late after my late night. I tried to buy a diet coke at a doughnut shop but they only took cash. The man in line behind me offered to pay for my beverage, so I gratefully let him. I ran past a post office and stopped to mail my sleeping pad -- the pump had gotten a hole in it already and it seemed relatively useless anyway, with the sand and soft grass I was comfortable, and my extra sports bra, unnecessary. I was starting to wish I had my solar charger, having to depend on outlets to charge my phone. The postmaster said I should look at the cell phone store across the street. No solar charger, but they did have a nice looking, light, external battery, which I purchased to replace mine. It turned out to have an odd plug mechanism, which worried me the entire trip, but carried a good deal of battery power and charged my devices fast.
A little further on, I stopped at a Starbucks (I should have had a Starbucks sponsorship for this trip, at least in southern California the place was my go-to.). I charged up and left my old battery in the baristas' tip jar, I figured they could throw it away if they couldn't get it to charge either. I had to take some time to make phone calls regarding my health insurance -- it turned out I was losing my current coverage and needed to arrange a new plan, this had to be done immediately. I found a smaller solar charger online and ordered it to be delivered to a post office up ahead.
Already, by day 13, I noted that I was using the "x more miles and then break!" tactic on myself. Compared to some of my ultrarunning friends, who run 30 miles a day in training, while holding down a full time job, or 50-70 miles a day for 50+ days during competition, I felt like my goal of 30 a day was quite conservative. I didn't want to aggravate my existing injuries.
Up ahead, in Santa Maria, I knew my trail and ultra friend Isaiah was working in his new hospital, he had just moved from Riverside to start a residency there. I couldn't meet him, and the route didn't even pass through Santa Maria, but just knowing he was nearby made me feel safer.
My day of errands had cost me, and night was falling already. I might have only put in five or ten miles before the sun began to set. In the future I remember consoling myself with the thought that there had been days I had only done ten or twelve miles by five o'clock. This was likely one of those days.
I ran around mountains in the dark, a car stopped to ask if I was okay. I ran past fields of crops and made my way to the highway. Another car stopped to ask if I was alright and the woman inside offered me the hamburger she was going to split with her dog :) I said I was okay, but appreciated the offer. It made me smile.
The town of Orcutt was apparently seventeen miles ahead and I looked forward to stopping at the gas station there. The town itself was a half mile detour from the road, but I wanted the break. When I got to town I could see there were no lights on at the gas station. The only business that appeared open was the bar. And I made a beeline.
After stopping at the restroom I unabashedly sat down at the bar. I ordered two bags of Fritos, they reminded me of my grandmother, who used to give me the chips in my school lunch and for snacks when I stayed with her. The young man next to me was friendly and I told him about my trek. I ordered a beer he recommended. His friend on the other side heard me and was blown away. He worked at a lodge in Mammoth and had the hat to prove it. He was all about hiking, and spiritual things. Somehow we got to talking about vortexes and Sedona. I've never been there but he told me that the spiritual feeling there is undeniable.
I headed out again, after only a mile or so a police officer stopped me to ask if I was okay. This would be the first of four police officers to stop me. I told him about my trek and he offered me water, said to be sure to run facing traffic, that way I could see the car coming toward me and jump out of the way if need be. He warned of drunk drivers, and said that he and the rest of the police there were on my side, they were watching out for me and if I needed *anything* I should call 911 and they would be there in an instant. He offered me water too, but I was still well hydrated.
I ran on to the town of Guadelupe. I was exhausted but couldn't find a place to sleep. I saw a cemetery and briefly considered trying to hide amongst the graves, but I couldn't bring myself to do it, it was also in the middle of the town, and would soon be surrounded by people, I assumed. I laid down for a few minutes on a bus stop bench. I felt tingling in my legs and looked up to find ants crawling all over me (again). I couldn't stay. On I went, I found an open Subway restaurant, the only business open in the early morning. I stopped and ordered two veggie wraps and two coffees, then later realized if I ordered a fountain drink I could get unlimited refills. I charged my phone and watched blue collar workers come in to order breakfast. At least I had escaped the 100+ degree temperatures by running at night.
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