Tuesday: 2 miles (should have 4)
Wednesday: 0 (should have been 4)
Thursday: 4! Triumphant 4!
Saturday: 14 miles (this is not a typo)
My Curt Schilling moment
I knew this would be a difficult week for running because my work schedule was really overloaded. On Tuesday, I had one small window of time to run and when I arrived at the gym I found no socks in my bag. Huh. I've seen people run without socks. It seems gross, but they do it. Geez, I've seen marathoners on TV run barefooted. No socks, no problem - just get the run in.
Around mile 2 of the planned four miles, I thought to stop and see if I could retie my laces to get rid of the annoying rub on right Achilles heel. I stopped the treadmill, looked down and saw my running shoe bright red with blood. Not gushing, geysers of blood, but enough so that when I tried to clean it off of the shoe it just oozed like a soggy sponge.
So, I abandoned the last 2 miles and pondered how to heel my bloody, blistered ankle by the next day. At Wednesday's class I got some very good advice, and stopped by the store on the way to the gym afterward to buy some incredibly expensive, specialized blister-healing bandages. The bandage sweated off in less than 1/2 mile and I resigned that day's run in favor of the stationary bicycle. Lame, frustrating.
The next day, determination refocused and gym bag newly loaded with first aid supplies, I returned to the gym. Herein I will divulge the four-step process for subverting (note: not healing) blisters:
1) "Liquid Skin." You can only get away with a disgusting product name if the stuff works. Use the foam-tipped stylus to dab the liquid all over the blister/cut/wound and let it dry into a flexible, adherent bond with the skin. The package says it "sloughs off" in five days, but I found its lifespan much shorter. Still, it keeps the blister from cracking and pussing and drying into a scab. Bonus.
2) Second Skin bandage. The one made by Band-Aid is inferior to the one with the label Second Skin, so buy carefully. These suckers aren't cheap, but they cover well and stick well enough, especially if you use step 3....
3) Medical tape. To the keep the super-luxe bandage on my heel in place, I criss-crossed my ankle and foot in a figure eight of white medical tape. This was the key to the blister-control plan and it made the difference from Wednesday night's failed attempt at running and Thursday morning's success.
4) Re-tied shoelaces. Shoe people recommend that you loop and criss-cross your laces through the top two eyes on your running shoes. I undid this in my right show so that it fit looser and my heel could move a little without rubbing against the shoe.
This, my friends, did the trick. I ran four miles successfully on Thursday with no trouble whatsoever. And on Saturday, my fears of being unable to complete the long run without shredding the remaining raw skin on my heel were quashed.
Half-marathon, plus 0.9 miles
On Saturday I was in Manhattan visiting my sister. I left behind ice and snow and winter storm warnings and found expensive parking and a warm, warm, sunny day. At 9 a.m. I struck out on the Upper West Side and the radio station I was listening to reported that it was 50 degrees. I wore running pants and a long-sleeved shirt - no mittens, no hat, no neck warmers or hand warmers, no jacket, no vest under the jacket.... I felt light and ready and headed south in the thin morning light.
Running in the city is good fit with training on a treadmill because you have the familiar satisfaction of counting streets as if they were tenths of mile on your digital pedometer. You get lost in your thoughts long enough and you look up at the traffic light to realize you're already at 45th Street. Similarly, you can make deals with yourself: when you get to Broadway, eat half the Gu packet. The next "don't cross" sign you hit, stop and stretch. The next pack of tourists who get in your way, sneer at them like you're a local. Actually, the last one happens infrequently on the treadmills at my gym.
From the West 70s I ran south, then west to Chelsea Piers, then stayed on the waterfront bike path all the way down to Battery Park. The tourists were lined up far, far, far around the park for the Statue of Liberty Ferry by the time I got to Battery Park at 10 a.m. I wound around some of the old, doglegged short streets downtown - on a Saturday morning it felt crowded with buildings but empty of people.
I wended my way back north, past the WTC site, past the people peeking through the screens around the construction there, and headed toward 6th Ave. I stayed with it through the Village, into Midtown and then veered onto Broadway and into Times Square. Big mistake. Very crowded. Lots of people walking drowsily, staring up at the buildings and lights, even in full daylight. At one point the sidewalk was so jammed that I ran through/behind the impromptu stage of a Caribbean beat ensemble. I had Gu'ed recently and was getting anxious to cover some miles before the morning got too late, and I imagined myself in one of those urban-warrior running shoe commercials, hopping amid the flotsam and jetsam of the city undeterred. (In truth, I probably looked more like a hobbled runaway from a Jazzercise class, given the miles and hours I'd already spent by then. But no matter! I was running 14 miles today!)
Midtown gave way to Central Park faster than I imagined and I happily headed for the lower loop that would finish off my run. A music program on the radio was just starting as I was rounding out my last half-mile. Improbably, the song the cheered me home was from Aaron Copeland's Appalachian Spring: Rodeo - the super triumphant, happy and proud song they used in the "Beef - it's what for dinner" commercials. There is no better song to end a long run on - I recommend they blast it through the PA at the finish line on race day.
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