Not your average suburban mom. I’m more your typical, normal, commonplace, everyday, garden-variety suburban mom. With a thesaurus.

Wednesday, August 21, 2013

A: EIGHT POINT ONE SIX Q: How many miles did you run, Kel?

Pre-blister, beautiful yet
rotund, toe-age.
If you been following the Camping Saga of 2013, you've taken note of the aforementioned activities: grilled hamburgers, a trip to Wal-Mart, kayaking, and a lovely little four mile jaunt through beautiful greenery where a phantom rock haunted the toe of my running shoe. While the pain of that phantom rock vanished when I removed my shoes, it did leave me with a few sweet souvenirs - namely two adorable blisters on my left pinkie toe. One took up the entire pad of my pinkie toe (and for the record, I have the fattest toes in existence, so don't let the word "pinkie" throw you off; that blister was huge) and the other was on the inside of my pinkie toe, cowering in the space between toes. (Could I possibly write the word "toe" any more?)(Only if I start making some toeriffic puns.)(*vocal rim shot*)

Since I spent most of camping wearing my trusty Old Navy $2 flip-flops (the ones renowned for their sturdiness and also for how appropriate they are for a weekend in the wild), I barely felt my blisters.  Except, of course, for when I noticed how deformed my toes looked, and then I showed everyone around me how nasty my feet were the evidence of such a hardcore four mile run. I began to be a bit concerned with how I was going to handle my 7 mile run the next day. My foot didn't hurt now, but surely when I put my running shoes back on (because they were the only ones I brought) it would hurt again. Could I run my first 7 mile run in history in such pain?

I took Hosanna and biked the 7 mile route I had planned at home using Map My Run. It was so.hilly. Like, cuh-razy hills that I almost had to walk my mountain bike up. But strangely, I really wanted to do that 7 miles. But I was worried about making things worse if I ran in those shoes. The alternative was to run a three mile run instead, and do my long run at home when I had my regular shoes. But if I did that I would have that long run hanging over my head for two extra days.

Rose and her dad. (Who did not
contribute to the running plan
deal.)(But who just had surgery
so S/O to R.J.!)
I was mulling all that over at the campfire while eating a delicious s'more and talking to Rose about the Red Carpet Run. (Multitasking at it's finest.) She came up with two brilliant plans. 1. I should duct tape my blisters. 2. I should run with her and our friend Christina, who were planning to do two miles in the morning. I counter-offered with, "What if I ran four miles first, and then picked y'all up for another three?" A deal was struck, and a plan was born.

I put triple antibiotic ointment on my blisters, and then covered them with a Buzz Lightyear band aid. I covered all that mess with duct tape. The first mile I was aware I had three extra layers coating my littlest toe, but it didn't hurt, and soon I forgot all about it. The bandages worked like a charm. I had zero pain and neither blister popped or got worse. (Even now they have morphed into awesome callouses.)

The first four miles were easy-peasy because I was excited to get back and have running partners. I ran a simple out and back (again, I used the estimated distance from my planning at home on my computer) and Rose and Christina were waiting for me when I returned to camp. I grabbed some water and we were off.

Christina rocked my face off when she brought her phone and could keep track of our distance and pace. This was awesome because Rose often accuses me of lengthening our distances without telling her which I do all the freaking time. Since I hadn't planned for a three mile run I was just guessing at distances when I suggested a route. I was pretty confident it would at least be a three mile run, but imagine my surprise when I took them the two mile out route I had been using and Christina tracked it at 2.25 miles! That meant my 4 mile run was really 4.5 miles. I love when that happens. You get the gain without the mental pain. Score.

We shortened the route back but when her phone signaled we hit three miles, we were still at least a half mile out. I was worried that, yet again, I was asking Rose to go farther then previously agreed upon (Syke. I wasn't really worried at all, but it's rude to keep doing that to the people you love, so I have to at least pretend to feel bad.), but I knew both she and Christina could do this. Their longest runs up to this one were 5k's; 3.1 miles at a slower pace on less hilly courses.  I'm not gonna lie - that last .66 miles wasn't the easiest thing I've ever done (especially because it ended with a steady incline) but we finished strong and ran back into camp like champions.

Totally sing, "We Are the Champions" in your head because I assure you that is what was happening in my head in real time. Rose, Christina, and me - all with new personal records for distance.
Once I was fully convinced I had my math correct (4.5 + 3.66), I said it out loud. "Dude, I totally just ran EIGHT POINT ONE SIX miles. 8.16 miles."

Best 7 mile run ever. Thank you, Rose and Christina.

1 comment:

  1. I miss running! :-( I'm glad you and your poor toes survived!


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