“‘Scuse me, how do we get outta here?”

“Outta where?” I asked.

The despondent woman responded with shortness of breath, “Off this trail. Is there a shorter way down?”

This poor woman with a group of six, the youngest of which looked to be kindergarten age, was visiting the Lafayette Reservoir for the first time and had wandered off the lower loop to the Upper Rim Trail. It had taken them over an hour just to get to the spot where they stopped me in desperation. An hour? I suppose if Dave and I had attempted to drag our girls up these rocky, dusty steep hills when they were 5 and 7, it probably would’ve also taken us an hour to go less than a mile.

Since I do happen to know this trail like the back of my hand after coming here the past thirty years, I pointed out that just around the next bend was a side trail they could take down to the main lower loop. They looked relieved.

I ran on ahead and when I reached the trail marker, I pointed it out to the group. They gave me thumbs up and waved in appreciation.

As I ran a little farther, I looked back to make sure they were headed the right way. Not sure why, but seeing this group work their way down that little side trail gave me a sense of satisfaction. It was as if I had a small part in saving them from a miserable, potentially dangerous situation. And the fact that they trusted a total stranger to lead the way.

After all, if we hadn’t run into each other when we did, they might’ve missed the trail marker and the next “short cut” would not have come until after a series of even tougher climbs. And if they missed that one, the steepest climb of all was at the midpoint and would most certainly have sent the kindergartner – and adults – into fits of tears.

Part of me was bummed they didn’t make it all the way around the Upper Rim because the rewards when you reach that midpoint peak are 360 degree views including Mt. Diablo and the valleys below. Maybe they’ll come back when the kids are older. Or with just the adults. I love bringing friends here. When you love something this much, you can’t help but share it.

When I got to the peak today, I stretched out my arms as I marveled once again at the views and uttered praises to God for allowing me to run another day. I haven’t always been able to get to this peak. Lately, it’s been a slower climb than previous years. But I’ve never been more thankful.

The rest of the run was filled with God showing me how closely I need to stick with Him so I don’t go off on a path I shouldn’t be on – or am not prepared to complete. And letting Him lead me back when I realize I’ve gone too far.

Later that day I got the email that runners’ love to get: “Congratulations! You have been randomly selected for the opportunity to register for the April 29, 2018 Big Sur International Marathon.” So I wasted no time in making it official and completing my online registration. I do believe I set a new PR for fastest race registration…probably shouldn’t be THAT proud of how fast I can enter my credit card info. But amidst the adrenaline rush, I actually took a moment to read the fine print before I hit the submit button. In particular, that little disclosure I usually skim over called “Course Time Limit.”

Having just run my ninth San Francisco Marathon two weeks ago, some of the post-race reviews and comments I’d read were fresh on my mind. What caught my attention were disgruntled runners’ remarks about how they were directed onto the Golden Gate Bridge walkway vs. roadbed, how water cups were gone by the last aid station, and how there were so few volunteers and crowd support at the end. Turns out that most of these comments were from runners who had finish times well PAST the allotted six hour cut-off. Other reviews mentioned how surprised they were with all the hills (we are still talking about San Francisco, right?) and how it would’ve been nice to be prepared for them.

Full disclosure. Good in life and in marathons.

I have been guilty of not reading race disclosures or not checking course elevations in my earlier years of running. Honestly though, it wasn’t until after I’d run my first trail race (2011 Brazen Racing New Year’s Eve Half at Lake Chabot) and the initial shock of significant elevation that I started paying attention to these charts…and hill training.

I’ve definitely missed a trail marker or two over the years. I have also been guilty of overestimating my abilities and allowing pride and enthusiasm to sideline wisdom and good practices. Like the time I wanted to get in a long heat training run and thought going 18 miles in 103 degree temps would be a good idea. After the run, I literally stumbled into a Safeway Jamba Juice, saw spots, put my head between my knees while standing in line, and must’ve blacked out since the next thing I knew, a man was leaning over me asking if I was okay.

Then there was the other extreme. That time I set out for a run after work but left later than I intended (parent conference that went waaaaay longer than expected). I had not packed cold weather running gear since the plan was to run earlier in the day. Who would’ve thought a few hours could make that big of a difference in temperature? Not only did it get ridiculously cold, but it turns out that my regular running route did not have any street lights. That night I ran in complete darkness except for oncoming car headlights. It was so dark I could not see where my next step was, and I was so cold that I could not feel my fingers. When I got back to my car, I’m not sure how I got in and turned on the heater since my fingers were frozen. Since I had only worn shorts and a tank top, I could see that my legs were purplish blue.

Aaaaand that time I wasn’t prepared for a torrential downpour. PSA: Mylar blankets were not made for wind and rain.

Perhaps these running fails are what inspire me to continue blogging. It’s the joy of encouraging others in their journeys, helping avoid misery – and maybe – just maybe even saving someone from potential disaster.

My brief encounter with the group on the trails today paints such a sweet picture for me. It’s a picture of how much God loves to lead me to places where I get to marvel at His handiwork. It’s also that scene where I’ve wandered somewhere I shouldn’t have, and He is more than glad to get me back on the right path.

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart; do not depend on your own understanding. Seek His will in all you do, and He will show you which path to take.”  Proverbs 3:5-6 NLT