For five eventful years in a time long time past, I lived and worked in Ventura California. For a marathon my youngest son Mike and I jumped on planes (he from Austin, I from Houston) landed in Los Angeles, and drove up the coast past to arrive at this wonderful seaside town.
My best recollections were of the always perfect weather and life beside the Pacific Ocean, living five minutes from work and ten minutes from the beach. Packing the boys in the car on Sundays, for a ten-minute drive to the beach, the sky always perfectly blue above on those long afternoons, it seemed. Saturday morning pickup basketball games at Ventura College. The college track where I took my first tentative sprint laps, to build some endurance against the youthful competition, and led to a long-time running life; who knew?
And so, the future returned on our weekend of travel, perfect spring days after winter-long rains, the hills were completely in bloom, the grasses so green, the sea air so fresh. In many ways, it is the very same place. On Saturday morning we awoke early and wandered out for a two-mile run alongside the beach. With a beautiful sunrise and views to match.
We met up with Woody Woodburn, a national award-winning newspaper columnist, writer, and a daily streak runner like me; we are adjacent on the U.S. Run Streak list. Tall and outgoing, Woody came galloping into the hotel lobby and we chatted it up like old times. He also gave me an autographed and inscribed copy of his new book! The Butterfly Tree: An Extraordinary Saga of Seven Generations: Woodburn, Woody: 9783982280189: Amazon.com: Books I was honored by the meet-up and this most personal gift.
We drove up through town along gently winding roads, the houses framed in the bright morning sun, landscaped with native flowers and beach grasses, all in bloom and overflowing to the sidewalks, a bluebird day if there ever was one. Finally, we landed on Parson’s Avenue to visit our old house, at first glance like a newer, better, refreshed version of the old house.
Afterward we visited to the hospital where Mike was born. Mike does not remember much about the place, and neither do I. Mikes two older brothers (Dan and Matt) sat on a wooden chair at that house, back in the day, that we still own, they are grown and successful, my how the years have passed.
Oh yes, the Sunday morning race, the reason for our visit. A dark cold morning. Rattling along in the back of the school bus shuttle up to the start line. Volunteers pointed us in the direction of the totally dark town center. Across Main Street there was a small park; we took refuge there huddled up against each other and shivering while eating bananas and leftover bagels. Finally, gradually the sky brightened and there we saw a mountain behind the town. We ran out a country road, up a big incline, then right back into downtown Ojai at 6.2 miles. And then back south out of town into the countryside this time towards Ventura. Mostly a long set of curves and easy drops down a two-lane road, very scenic. I was hanging in there OK to 15 miles. Problems ensued. We ran long stretches of road bathed in bright sun, and it was warming up fast, my quads ached, I eventually slowed to a run-walk. Mike intersected me for the last quarter mile. Then the finish line appeared, finally. Typical end marathon suffering, we push through. I did finish. So, there is that, and three weeks later I have forgotten the suffering of that day. Mike did super on light training and negative split the second half. Proud of him.
Returning to visit and eat and run / race again brought me full circle. And though exhausted and depleted at the end, the trip revives my still fresh memories – I will always remember this step on the path of life.
See my full trip essay at the following page link: return to Ventura – Welcome (10000daysreadwriterun.com)
