It’s weird, as I train for this marathon, I learn how resilient my body can be. I’m not getting any faster, but my body hurts less and less after every run. I remember the first time I ran 13 miles I couldn’t walk properly for days. Now, the only thing that hurts is my ass, and I’m going to blame that on the hills I added to the course this weekend. I’ll be honest, I’m walking the hills. I mean, like I’ve said 100 times over, I have no grand dreams of running the full 26.2 miles, or beating some specific time. I’m going to walk through the aid stations like Hal Higdon recommends, and I’m going to walk up the hills because I’m not a big fan of pain.
Less than three weeks. THREE WEEKS. I’m starting to get freaked out. My brother is going to run the last 6 miles with me, which is going to help immensely. Although I keep telling him what would help more is if he would run the first 20 miles FOR ME – but he seems to think that would be cheating, or something.
The blisters, though. I’m telling you – I have tried every solution you wonderful people have suggested. I’ve bought expensive socks and weird “non-chaffing” sticks. I’ve used diaper cream and vaseline. I’ve made sacrifices to the gods of callouses and I’ve bought new shoes. The blisters do switch spots depending on their motivation, I guess. There is really no rhyme or reason. The thing I am happy with, is it’s taking longer and longer to get them. Now it takes about 10 miles as opposed to 5 at my half-marathon in Tucson. I think I’ve just decided that I’m destined to a life of blisters. And the whole “You’ll callous” thing isn’t working since I’ve run over 200 miles the last three months and I’ve still not calloused properly. And let me tell you – I won’t even so much as scrub the bottoms of my feet with anything rougher than a washcloth for fear of losing valuable dead skin cells. I’m going to get blisters. There’s just no way to stop it. Which means I’ll deserve an even BIGGER cookie at the finish line.
Or maybe stroller to wheel me home in.