This is a view of the Observatory - it was recently renovated, its really nice in there!
Another lovely view.
A view of the lovely trail I run up.
You get really close to the Hollywood sign.
And you also have a nice view of Los Angeles - do you see the Observatory down there?
And beautiful LA sunsets.
But, CAUTION, because it is not all lovely scenery, at least not when its me running it.
Sometimes, there are forks in the road, and you must pay attention to which way you came from! (PS - Sorry this text is all together, it's not letting me put spaces in between paragraphs, so I'm just going to alternately italicize each paragraph for clarity purposes.)
One of the times I went running up this trail was just after the daylight savings time change. I was so excited that I would be able to run outdoors after work, so on the very first day after the daylight savings time change, I was able to leave work relatively early, and I made my way to the park. But, by the time I reached the top of the mountain, the sun was setting. As I made my way down, I noticed that my surroundings did not look too familiar. I thought, "I don't remember being that close to the Hollywood sign on my way up?"
I looked at things around me and thought "ok, there is that silo looking thing, that looks kind of familiar." Or, "Ok, I think that's the same horse excrement I saw on the ground on my way up." I saw people going down this route, so I thought ok, well this must be the way back. Or, I figured, ok, it'll probably reconnect with the road I came up with pretty soon, so I'll just keep going. But then my surroundings just started to look too different. And the sun was really setting by this point. I realized, "that wasn't the same silo looking thing that I saw on the way up and that was different horse excrement on the ground than the ones I remembered." I started to pick up my pace.
"Oh, ok, thank God, I see some people up there, let me run faster so that I can at least catch up to them." Uh oh. As I got closer, I realized "Oh, those aren't people... its a coyote." So, I turn around and start sprinting up the way I had been coming down. I think, "I wonder what you are supposed to do to avoid having coyote attack you?" But I come up with no answer to that question. I stop listening to my IPOD to be more aware of the sounds around me. I start to hear coyotes howling. The normal chirps from crickets that normally freak me out were there too, but I guess that wasn't a huge concern when you are also hearing coyote. It was getting darker by the second at this point and I was becoming short of breath.
Being me, I seriously start to worry. I think, who should I call? Oh shoot, my phone doesn't even have reception out here. "Let me call Christine, because I can't call my mom she'll panic." I start to envision stories on the news the next day about the lost runner that a search crew was out looking for in the Los Angeles mountains. I keep running as fast as I can so as not to be devoured by the coyotes or the crickets.
And alas, almost out of breath and sweating like Whitney Houston only 30 seconds into any performance, things start to look familiar again and I see a woman with her two dogs.
"Hi!" I try to ask calmly so as not to appear panicked. "Do you know which way down takes you to the Vermont exit?"
Thankfully, she does, and she points me in the right direction and I make my way down the mountain in almost total darkness at this point. But, at least its on the path I knew and there were people here and there and eventually, street lights down by where the Observatory is. I calm down and kind of laugh at how crazy I was in how I started to see my life flash before my eyes. I think I then text messaged Christine to tell her of my crazy adventure.
Then, I vowed to myself that I would pay more attention next time I ran there, or better yet just not run all the way to the top where it starts to get more confusing.
A few days later, I'm running up Griffith Park, past the Observatory, and I make it to the top of the mountain, assured that this time I would pay more attention.
This time though, on my descent, I am not too proud to ask if I'm going the right direction, so I ask a bubbly looking lady walking in the same direction, "Is this the way to the Vermont exit?" And she assures me that it is. I tell her "Ok, I was just wondering, because I've gotten lost here before." She says, "yeah, because I remember passing that thing over there (pointing to the Silo looking thing)." "Oh, ok," I say. "She seems really confident and like someone who knows where she's going," I think to myself.
And sure enough a few more minutes on our descent, she realizes that it is indeed, not the way to the Vermont exit. But at least this time the sun is not too close to setting, and we had company. So, we turned around, backtracked to the top of the mountain, and made our way down the Vermont exit together, chatting most of the way. She was an LA native from Pico Rivera and she had run the LA marathon herself a few years ago. She told me about the friend of hers she did the marathon for, who passed away from cancer. And I told her about my Uncle who I was running the marathon for and I also told her about my mom who had also had cancer, but was fortunate enough to catch it in its early stages. And she shared her stories with me of when she ran the marathon and how she would love to do it again.
That was sweet, I thought. So, then, I was happy that I got lost, because from that, I made a new friend. :)
But still, when I run, I should still remind myself... to try not to get lost.
