The Shadow of the Beast (Part 1)

March 6, 2021

The shadow always loomed large, but I never seemed to notice it before. It’s almost like I now see mountains differently than I did before. Like I did not notice them or just thought they were a nice backdrop in an ever changing landscape. Now I look at them and wonder if there is a trail waiting to be explored or I dream that I could be standing the top. What could I see from there?

Mount Diablo has always been there looming high above my grandparent’s house. It is right there, so close. As I begin to look through old photos my grandma left behind I see images of us in the foothills of Mount Diablo but my memory does not recall the exact moments.

Going to my grandparent’s house in California was always so exciting. I would get to see my grandparents, cousins, aunts, and uncles. I would get to swim in the backyard pool for hours and eat delicious food made for a village of people by my grandma. At night we would sneak some drumsticks out of the freezer and rummage around the house to maybe find some treasures in the endless amount of things that had been collected in that house between my grandparents and their six children. Too many good memories to recount.

As the house empties of the old treasures and the family works to put it on the market memories linger strongly. We have all said our goodbyes to the house, we have all thought we had seen it for the last time, but the house is still there in our possession. It just seems to be holding on as we get more exhausted from the countless times we thought we were leaving the physical memories behind. The last time is coming though. The end is in sight.

I never thought I would be in a position to help with the house after we removed 2 large Got Junk truckloads from the house in 2018. We spent several days going through piles and piles of papers and pictures, china, memorabilia, trash, and other household items that were unorganized and held onto for far too long. We reminisced and had to be honest with ourselves about what really mattered. The challenge seeming insurmountable, but progress was made. Inspired by my brother, who had visited before us, I followed his Strava run up Mount Diablo to Prospector’s Gap. My goal, to honor the life of my grandmother and see the sunrise from the top. I did not make it to the top, but marveled at the sunrise from just below. Telling myself I would go to the top someday if I ever came back here, I sat and thought of how much love and joy my grandma Pat had brought to my life. Thankful to her for being a role model of a strong and compassionate woman. I know she was so proud of me and all her family. I wondered if that might be the last I ever see of Mount Diablo and the long views down to my grandma’s house and beyond.

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But of course it was not the last I would see of the house or Mount Diablo. Somehow I ended up back here in California. Just a short 2 hour drive from the house. Work still needed to be done in the house, and when time started winding down and dates started becoming more concrete I knew I needed to help. COVID has made our lives more challenging in many ways so much of the family has not been able to help in the final months. I am here in a position to help. A position I never thought I would be in, but here I am. I thought that while I helped I could be a little selfish and use the house again to try and conquer my goals on Mount Diablo.

I returned to the house for the first time since February 2018 in March 2021. Final preparations were being made to sell the house and my aunt needed to pack up her things. We spent hours picking things out and packing them up. Deciding what was important and what wasn’t. Always a challenging task. The next morning, Saturday morning, I had already decided would be an attempt on Mount Diablo. So after I ate some Skipolini’s pizza and before I went to bed I prepared everything for an early morning wake up to catch the sunset on Mount Diablo.

I woke up just after 0500 and rolled into my clothing so I could get out the door. The air was crisp and dark, but I ran. If you think about what you are doing too hard you will never actually do it. At least that’s how I think about early morning runs. I ran through the greenbelt in the neighborhood past so many sleeping people making my way toward dirt. I would follow the same path I went in 2018. The night before it had rained and as soon as I hit the mud it stuck to my shoes. I built up a heel of mud on both shoes that would eventually fling off to build up again. Owls hooted to each other in the darkness outside the guiding light of my headlamp. I listened and smiled as I made my way up the ravine, the road turning to single track.

I ran when I could and walked when I couldn’t. This mountain was riddled with steep sections of trail and dirt road, my body felt tired and resistant. I wondered if I should have taken my mid-week runs a little lighter to make this effort seem less challenging. I didn’t remember it feeling this difficult in 2018 and surely I was in better shape now… right? I thought of how important rest and fresh legs are as I willed my body uphill. The sun coming up quicker than I could drag my body upwards. “Sunrise is a bust,” I thought to myself wondering again how I did it all those years ago.

Eventually I made it up the steep road to Prospector’s Gap, where I stood 3 years before. The sun was still rising and put on a show. I smiled and thought of my grandma. I wondered if I should continue up to the summit. Did I have the time or energy? I pushed forward another half a mile up only to check the map to see I was still a little over a mile from the summit. I decided to head down, as the wind was blowing chilly air and I was now cold and tired. “I’ll be better prepared next time,” I thought.

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I turned around and started downhill. I thought I should try something different on the way down if I could. Running back down the road did not sound entirely appealing with the loose rocks and steep grades. I checked the map as I saw a trail sign for the Bald Ridge Trail. It looked like a viable way down, and how could I pass up something with ridge in its name!? I veered left onto the trail and was thrown into a flowy up and down single track trail. Exhausted and not wanting to go up anymore I carried on. I flew down the downhill sections, slowing down on each technical spot. My tired jelly legs could not be trusted anymore and it showed as my downhill speed slowed through any technical terrain. The views and nature kept me motivated as I continued down the ridgeline. I eventually started to climb up again, eventually hitting Eagle Peak. I took the climb slow and drank water and ate some snacks for energy.

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After Eagle Peak the trail continued down. Not much uphill would stand in my way anymore. I could see the trail following the ridgeline down into the flat area where Clayton is situated in the morning shadow of Mount Diablo. The flowy switchbacks on the single track ridge reminding me why I got up early this morning. Mountainous single track trail is the gold standard and I was lucky enough to be soaring (albeit very clunky) down this trail. I was thinking of all the beautiful alpine trails we might be able to see this summer in the Sierra and how this run would enable me to push further, faster, and higher. Down to Twin Peaks I ran. Here I started running into more humans going up the mountain that I was almost finished with for the day. Further down I ran until I hit the flat fields of grass just outside the neighborhood. Back to the safety of pavement and into the warm comfort of grandma’s house. “Next time,” I thought. “I’ll summit you next time Mount Diablo.”

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