Good Guy Ben

On March 9 I created a soft spot of skin, raw and tender and about the size of a quarter, on the sole of my right foot running on the trails of Knoxville. Four days later I was itching for more trails and ran 11 miles on the great trails of Collegedale. By the end, that spot burned and felt open and I was definitely favoring my left foot and figuring the next day would be a rest day. It wasn't. The next day I hit the trails again, this time with Ben, until a couple miles in I had to turn around and slowly pick my way back home.

Peeling off the socks was rough. There was a nice white layer of loose skin. I carefully cut that off and underneath there was another layer of loose skin. Apparently I had a blister inside a blister.

The next three days I walked softly. Then I had to try running, so I went to the Apison park. A few laps around the path and besides the pain I thought it must be all right. I went again the next day and figured I'd double the distance and up the pace. "Blister feels okay, but the skin cracked after yesterday's run," I logged. Which was good? because that way it was drying out? Maybe.

Several days later, after another easy trail run and confidence that it was getting quite a bit better, I did almost 15 miles on the trails again. And of course I got the regular rub spots and such, but I thought it all faired quite well. I'm good. My other foot, though, had a new patch of loose skin on the ball and up the side. It was very sensitive. But surely, surely it wasn't that bad.

After another trail run the next day, during which I complained the entire time, I sat down and with the utmost of care removed my sock. The new blister was legit. Bright red like a blood blister, the loose skin, the puss, the whole area swollen and hot. I didn't run for a week after that.

The point of this post is that I'd told Ben to remind me never to run on blisters again at some point during this whole episode and a couple days later I started to notice he'd taken request quite seriously. Good guy Ben. I think (hope) I've learned my lesson. And I hope to have passed along the message well enough to possibly spare you this misfortune for yourself.

I'm very unsure about grocery lists.

Don't make fun of me.

Yes, we are bachelors.
Ramen and missing each other.

I haven't done any of these things yet. I'm what the
French call: lazy loser.

All caps for remember.

Those are the guilty trail shoes.