Well, this long awaited update is not quite the update you expected. I’m going back a few months to one of the most spontaneous and testing experiences I’ve put myself through willingly. It wouldn’t be fair at all to say I put myself through this alone, the man who might just be crazier than I am for letting this happen, Mitch Ramos was right there alongside me.
You’re probably wondering, ok, enough with the hinting and dodging the details, what are you talking about? I’m sure you all have your moments of genius; whether it be in the shower, in the car, on your pillow right before you fall asleep, wherever it may be, ours turned out to be on Marc Capule’s couch. A night like any other, we’d been cycling through the channels trying to entertain ourselves before we gave into the night. Mitch and I strike up the usual conversation about when our next run is going to be, you see we’ve been training for an imaginary marathon for the past six months waiting for the right time to go for the gold. Funny thing is, we’ve already planted the seeds for this night months ago. We both agree on how nice of a night it is, how nice it would be to go for a jog.
Well, tonight was the night we decided to run to the beach.
Before you jump on our plan, no, we don’t live on or near the coast. One cannot simply walk to the beach. Between us and our destination lie 26.6 miles of asphalt. Personally, the farthest I’ve ever ran in a single session was 11 miles and Mitch has completed a half-marathon once upon a time. We pretend to understand what 26.6 miles feels like. Who needs to register with 5,000 of your closest strangers to knock out a run?
Our departure time is nearly 1am. We begin our journey in sandals, jeans, and about two in. Don’t let the involvement of our B.A.C. skew your judgment on the night; this was going to happen regardless. It’s nearly 1.5 miles to our first stop for supplies. We use my house as a launching point. Packing our packs with as much water as we can hold, throw in a towel for good measure, we switch on our headlamps, and head into the darkness. Among the many observations made that night, 1:30 am is an extremely peaceful time of the night.
We stick to major streets, Rinaldi to Tampa is our first stretch, our feet fresh and our lungs are capable. No issues here. Luckily for the both of us, a 7-11 convenience store is on that very corner. We decide that now is the time to stock up on any necessities and celebratory materials. As for necessities, I was beginning to experience some chaffing. As any experienced runner can vouch for me, when one chafes all one does is think chafe thoughts. So I picked up a tub of Vaseline. Mitch picks up a bottle of wine for the predicted victorious ending. We saw two separate unrelated items. The cashier looked at us with those fearful eyes of his. Here were two men in shorter than short-shorts, purchasing a bottle of wine and Vaseline. He used the “it’s past 2am” excuse to cut our purchase in half. We say our goodbyes to the fellow customers that were ever curious to where the rest of the marathon runners were. With chaffing solved, we head south on Tampa. This is fairly uneventful; we pass familiar landmarks that encourage us along the way. Luckily for us, this is mostly downhill that merges into fairly level terrain.
After trekking nearly 9 miles in 2-ish hours, we reach our first minor accomplishment. There we find ourselves looking at the 101 freeway and Ventura Blvd. This meant two things; first, there was no going back from here. Second, we’re not even half way done. Physically, we were beginning to feel our feet; our bodies were beginning to realize what we had committed to. Mentally, we knew we had to keep our pace to avoid the summer heat and the threat of traffic. Our next stretch followed Ventura Blvd north until we reached Topanga Canyon.
Here began our push, Ventura follows a fairly straight path but gains and loses elevation at a whim. It is here we also began to acknowledge we did not have a gearing system to haul ourselves up these hills. The world was still at peace around 3:30am, busy restaurants and shops were closed up, giving us the street to ourselves. Mitch and I start motivating each other with quick bursts of speech between breaths. “ONLY 2 MORE *breathe-breathe* MILES ‘TILL TOPANGA!”…”SURE BEATS SLEEPIN’ DOESN’T IT?”…”WHY ARE WE DOING THIS AGAIN?” Our third and final stop before the grand stretch of Topanga Canyon was a 76 Station at Topanga Cyn and Ventura.
Exhaustion was beginning to catch up to us. Our solution to these physical feelings? Ice cream, candy, power bars, and Gatorade helped suppress any urges to pass out. This last stretch was truly going to be a battle of mind and body. For those unfamiliar with Topanga Canyon, it winds all the way through the Santa Monica Mountain range until it spits you out on the coast. This is roughly 12 miles in itself. After a 20 minute rest stop to stretch out, we hit the pavement.
Topanga turns into a nice stretch of residential neighborhoods, quiet with ample sidewalk space to run side by side. By now, the sun is slowly making it’s appearance. Nearing, 4 am we have run straight into the dawn. After about 30 minutes on Topanga, we cross Mulhulland Drive; the only importance to this location is that this is where our run turns into a climb. As we cross into Topanga Canyon State park, we observe the mile marker which states windy roads the next 11 miles. We ease our pace, line up single file, and march on. Running single file was important due to the fact there was no shoulder to run on. Luckily, it was still early enough where normal people were still in their beds.
Maybe it was delirium or it was finally the adrenaline kicking in, but the sunrise over the San Fernando Valley was absolutely beautiful. Our goal was to get to the beach before sunrise, but this was something much better. We stopped to catch our breath, or nearly just stop and look for our breath. It’s nearing 5am. This is a crucial hour for us. About 3 miles into the state park, our stride is cut in half, our muscles are in full rebellion, and a new thought is emerging in both of our minds.
“Throw out your thumb.”
As traffic picks up, the idea seems more and more plausible.
“THROW OUT YOUR THUMB”, my mind screams. The idea seems all too good.
I noticed Mitch has been a little quiet; I turn just to make sure he hasn’t fallen off the road somewhere.
He threw out his thumb. I bust out laughing and immediately follow. Two good looking twenty year old guys, covered in sweat, with thumbs out. Who wouldn’t want to give us a ride? Turns out, a lot of people wouldn’t. For nearly an hour, we stumble through the canyon with our thumbs outstretched. Our feet have had enough. The sun is up, traffic is flowing. We need to get to that beach quick. Just nearly after an hour, a silver truck answers our call for a ride. Thomas, a younger man who has picked up hitch-hikers before, graciously invites us into his truck.
“You’re not going to kill me, right?” Were his first words to us.
“No, that’s not our style.” I replied jokingly.
We introduce ourselves and get on moving. Turns out Tom was a really nice guy, he was a fellow believer. Maybe it was my creepy wooden cross necklace or maybe our predicament that we’d set off on a run like this, but he started talking to us about church and sharing past experiences. I couldn’t help but have a ridiculous smile as we sailed through that canyon. It was just over 15 minutes of driving. We emerge through the canyon, with the beach right in front of us. Tom pulls over, we give our heartiest thank-you’s and step out on the coast. We made it. Nearly 6 and a half hours later, we made it. We were truly exhausted. After we dipped our feet into the cold pacific, we throw out a blanket and pass-out.
Well, after waking from our nap, we scoured the coast for some food. Turns out, there’s no food for miles either way. We make the call. Luckily, Sanam was awake at 8:30 in the morning and ready to come get us. Another big thank you to a fellow bro. Our journey ends at a worthy destination, Kyoto Sushi.
So, next time you have the urge to do something that sounds beyond reason, go for it. Maybe, you won’t make it all the way, or it won’t end the way you set out for it to, but you’ll accomplish something and have another story to tell.
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| Here's our route. |
Next, we’re running to New York City.
See yah out there.
Here's our video we put together on the fly:
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