Catch Up and Triathlon Training Horrors

I have been remiss in my postings. So much has happened since my last post. Last week was a surprisingly good training week. I went into it not expecting much since the week before I hadn't done ANY biking. The rain has been practically daily, and well, I don't know what is going on. I look at my bike and I just DON'T want to ride it. I don't want to go anywhere. Maybe I'm just bored of the same local routes, maybe I'm still subconsciously defeated after the Bloomin' Fail. I have no idea. So I bought a trainer and have been going to spin classes.

Sure spin class isn't exactly an indoor training session, but it makes me push myself really hard. Last Tuesday was my first spin class in ages and by the end I was sweating so hard, my sweat was hitting the pedals and spraying me in the face. It was awesome! I felt so invigorated, all the negativity I've had about training washed away and onto the floor. Afterward I stretched for a long time in the sauna.

Wednesday brought an amazing swim class. The coach wasn't really prepared, usually they have a swim workout planned ahead of time. She grabbed post-its she had her favorite swim workouts on and we decided on one. All in all it was 2400 yards. I can't even remember it now, but I believe the main set was 50 yards x 24. 25y moderate, 25y fast. The girls in my lane and I were going insane by the 15th set. 24 of the same thing is insane, but we pushed ourselves and I didn't give up. My arms were killing me by the cooldown but I wanted to complete the workout.

Thursday was another awesome spin class, and Friday I had a camera put down my throat. It's official, I have gastritis. The experience sounds awful but it was quite nice. The worst part was not eating until after the procedure, which was around 2pm or so. My parents came all the way down from Massachusetts to drive me there, and we got there early. Like, an hour early. But it was great because they were able to do the procedure basically right when I got there. I was put under with a different chemical than usual, so I even had no side effects! I drifted to a peaceful sleep, and when I woke up, it was over and I was upset! I wanted to be asleep longer, I didn't want to wake up just yet! When I got home, my indoor trainer had arrived, and as soon as I opened the box, the sun came out. Typical.

Saturday I had great kickboxing and kettlebell classes. Then, for some god awful reason, (Because studies show running barefoot is actually better for you) I decided to run barefoot, for a mile. I thought this was starting out easy. I was all psyched up for a 6 mile run, I figured I'd do the first mile barefoot on the track by my house, and then the rest in shoes in the neighborhood. That was a ridiculous plan. RIDICULOUS. But at the time I had no idea. After the second lap I felt my feet burning, this seemed normal because, well I'm running barefoot on a rubber track for the first time. So I pushed myself, and ran the entire mile in 8:30ish. Sweet, right? Uh then I put my shoes on, and it felt like I was walking on gel packets. It was SICK! So disgusting and I was like, oh God I'm screwed.

I ran into my friends who were on their porch as I hobbled up. I told them what I just did and they looked at me like I was insane. "Wanna see?" I asked. "NO!" said one friend. "YES!" said the other. I slowly took off my shoe and peeled off a slightly bloody sock to reveal the most disgusting blisters I've ever seen. The pad of my foot was bubbled up, like filled with a massive amount of lymph. They screeched in horror and I laughed. I laughed probably because I had A. Just run a mile, and B. My adrenaline was kicking in due to the pain. I hobbled back to my apartment and that's when the pain REALLY set in. I called a fellow Trifitness member who I know runs barefoot. I had completely forgotten my tri group's triathlon was Saturday. I'm a great member aren't I? Anyway, he told me about the race as I whimpered, searched Google for answers and then I asked what the HELL do I do?! He had no clue because apparently he's never had blisters before. My voice cracked and I got off the phone, and then I just bawled.

I sat there in my apartment, alone, blubbering for a good 5 minutes. I was screwed, and I did it to myself. I had sidelined myself right when I was feeling on top of my game. Idiot. Moron. Imbecile. All the names I had for myself ran through my head. I called my friend Dan. I told him what happened to get it out. I got off the phone and attempted to deal with my wounds. I could hardly walk, I used whatever I could, braced myself on counters and walls. This wasn't going to work. I texted Dan a plea to come over and buy stuff for my feet. Meanwhile I searched the internet, to lance or not to lance? What do I do? Dan wrapped me up but after an hour or so I was like, we need to lance these things. We fired up a needle, and sat on my couch. It was something out of a movie, pretty hysterical I'm sure from someone else's perspective. We're on the couch, hunched over my feet, I'm whining, whimpering and yelling while lymph squirts out of my blisters. One squirted me for 30 seconds, all over my shirt. SICK! But I was relieved to get the crap out of my feet.

The difference was major, and if you ever find yourself in the same position, LANCE IT. Stab it! Get it out! Just be careful, sterilize, and do it! (Just know you are risking the chance of infection, and I'm currently paranoid I'm still not in the clear for that.) I was walking again, albeit hobbling. By Monday I was already running again, though in shoes this time, and on the treadmill. I don't think I'll be doing any good distance this week until all the pain has subsided and the skin that's post-bubble flattens out completely.