A blistering run

I wasn't sure what to expect from today's long run given how under the weather I've been feeling for the past week.  Even Adam, in his weekly night-before-the-long-run supportive text said, 'Are you sure you really need to do this now?'  We eventually agreed that I'd start out and, if it felt like it wasn't going to go well, I'd cut things short and try again in a couple of days.  Oh, it's frightening how sensible I've become with my training.

Fortunately, though, there was no need to activate my Sensible Side.  The run - 17 miles, I'll have you know - was fine.  I didn't necessarily have happy skippy legs, but it wasn't a slog either.  It was just an enjoyable long run on a beautiful, sunny, warm day.  I had to take off my jacket after an hour; what a pleasure to run in just my t-shirt after months of bundling up against the cold.  And I am really really enjoying my new audiobook (The Moonstone, another Wilkie Collins novel, which is an 18-hour unabridged version and which should see me through the rest of my long runs). 

Part of my usual long run route

Although my legs weren't feeling hugely energetic, they felt good enough for me to up the pace at mile 14.  I did that mile 30 seconds faster than my target pace and briefly considered trying to maintain that for the remaining three miles.  But a slightly tight calf and an awareness of upcoming hills triggered the Voice of Adam in my head and I slowed back down.  Sigh.  I could have done it, though.

The only source of pain in the entire run was the blisters under the calluses on the outside of my big toes.  They've been niggling on and off for a couple of weeks but I've been hoping that they would just go away.  And, as long as I keep the runs under 13 miles, they stay as a bit of a hot spot but nothing more.  And then I forget about them, until the next long run.  I did put some Vaseline on my toes today and on the hot spot on the bottom of my left foot, which worked well up until 14 miles.  I really thought that I was going to get away with it but no.  I could feel the hot spots heating up and, by the last mile, I was having to make a conscious effort not to change my gait.  I'm now hobbling around the house, not because my legs have seized up (they haven't; they feel fine), but because my blisters HURT.

Because the blisters are under the calluses, I can't really get at them with a needle to drain them.  Time for a visit to the podiatrist, I think.  Some things, even Adam isn't able to do.

As painful as they are (and as unsightly - Bassman exclaimed, 'Wah!  Look at your toes!' when he caught a glimpse of the Blistered Ones), they still aren't a torn muscle.  And for that, I remain incredibly grateful.