All that business with that painful blister on my right foot, had to eventually turn into business with a painful blister on my left foot. And gosh darn my feet are ugly. I’m glad my lovely isn’t a foot guy. I would be a bitter disappointment.
The blister is all dried up now and healing beautifully, but it wasn’t a short ordeal. Things started last Saturday when I decided to attempt a quick treadmill run in my Newtons without socks. All my socks were in the wash and I was too lazy to at least get a pair from the deep crevices of my sock reserve pile: mostly cotton, and possibly one synthetic pair hanging around. Too far. Forget it. So I went sockless and was feeling great until the familiar hotness struck. And I continue until without my realizing it, the blister broke open and I was running on raw skin. Delightful.
Fast forward and the blister got infected and gross. Polysporin was applied liberally. And I went out and ran according to the plan set out by the coach. And then the left foot got cranky and was even worse than the right. While the left foot got all nasty, the right foot was healing and keeping me up at night because of how itchy it was.
Things were getting better but this past Friday I ran some rather excellent intervals in my shorts (as seen in a previous post) in the cold weather and the heat of my feet didn’t strike me at all. But I ended that fun trot with a blister on top of an already funky friction bubble. I got the stink eye from the bf and I demanded a needle and alcohol so I could pop the demon to death. I felt like my foot was going to explode from the pressure. I swear my lovely almost decided it was not worth liking me anymore. He was horrified when I started to poke at it right in the living room and banished me to the bathroom where I did some poking and swabbing and came out bandaged up and good as new. Still in pain, but happy to have some pressure relieved.
The next day the blister was still tender, impact was painful. I was definitely not walking properly. So I took the day off because I was crossing my fingers that my Sunday long run would not be hampered.
It wasn’t. Because I’m a little nutty and a bit obssessive compulsive. I set my alarm for 4am. But I slapped it away about 5 times before I woke up. In my defence it was because I woke up with a migraine and hoped a few more snoozes would make it go away. Nope. I ended up rising at 6:30am to eat some food - trying so hard not to vomit - and lace up my shoes. My foot was still tender, my head was throbbing but gosh darn I was going to get in my 28km run. I ran around to get some mileage in before heading to lead the group run. It was surprisingly bustling that early on a Sunday morning and it sort of upset me. I was looking forward to a quieter run.
The run with the group was great. I ran with some new faces and we explored new territory. We ran a bit on some trails and I felt great. I even began to ignore the pain in my foot. Towards the end though, I was not feeling too hot. My breathing was laboured, my lungs had apparently not expelled everything from the cold I had last week so I was still coughing out mucus. My legs were tired from running in a way they weren’t used to. I was exausted from lack of sleep, but my head was not throbbing.
Of course, as the run ended the migraine returned. But I felt happy to have completed my long run without surrenduring to that stupid stupid blister. It’s amazing how something that seems so insignificant can really muck up training. I learned an important lesson, never to ignore that ominous hot feeling again and never to run on an already bad blister so as to make it much much worse. I’m lucky nothing got too infected. Glad my feet are healing now. And although my feet are not pretty to look at, they still look darn cute in socks and shoes because they’re so tiny!