bizarro 17

Continuing with catching up on long run posts, I'm pleased to present:

February 20, 2010: The Blister Run

If the seventeen-miler of the previous week was day, this run was surely night. If the previous seventeen-miler was white, this run was surely black. If the previous... okay, you get it. The mileage was the only similarity of these consecutive weekend adventures.

We didn't have a team run scheduled for this Saturday, so I met with a few of the usual suspects (Laura and Erin) plus a new addition (my VISTA buddy Becca, training for the Marathon on a different team) in Arlington for our long run.

Route-plotter extraordinaire Erin planned what looked to be an easy run, at least compared to the hills we conquered last week. We had just one hill to climb, and it came early enough in the run that I wasn't worried about it. We would also be on the bike path for most of the remainder of the run, which meant asphault instead of concrete--so much nicer on the legs. This was also one of the only weeks I've been able to tell myself, "I don't need to be concerned about running X miles; I just ran X miles last weekend, and it was fine!" As far as I knew, it would be a comparatively easy long run.

Sometimes, I'm an idiot.

We started out together, and we all conquered Park Hill with little trouble. Laura decided to run a shorter distance than the rest of us, so she left us partway into the run to turn around and run back. (Revealing Laura anecdote: determined athlete that she is, however, she adjusted her return route to include Park Hill once again.)

Erin and I ran together, and Becca jogged ahead at some point because she is, in short, a superstar. Both Erin and I's energy was lacking, so we took the first walk breaks we have ever taken during a long run.

Necessary as the walk breaks were for both of us, my mental block telling me that walking = failure took a toll on my spirit. And that would have been enough to ruin my mood... but then there was my right foot.

Pro Tip: When your running coach tells you, "Buy running shoes that are 1/2 size bigger because your feet will swell when you run," listen to him. Don't buy your normal 7 1/2s because you're afraid the 8s will fall off. As hard as it is for your stubborn self to believe, you don't know running better than your running coach.

And by "you," of course, I mean me.

Unfortunately, I had to learn this lesson the hard way--and though I'm not sure why it didn't happen until this particular 17-mile run, learn the hard way I did. I'm sure the blood blister that formed during this run appeared because my shoes were simply not large enough to contain my swelled feet (gross), and so the side of my foot began to run on my shoe. Part of my problem that day may also have been that I'm still running in regular cotton socks instead of bonafide running socks (another mistake I need to rectify), but the one thing I was sure of was that by the time Mile 10 or so rolled around, I was requesting walking breaks mostly because of my aching feet. Walking on the forming blister still hurt my foot, but running certainly hurt it more.

Slowly, painfully, and with more walk breaks than I would have admitted to you if I'd counted them, we finished. I was never more thankful for a car ride home from Becca, and after walking very gingerly up the steps to my apartment, I cautiously removed my sock to reveal this Thing on the left side of my right foot:


I'm convinced. I will buy size 8s.