It's tough, living with an athlete who has had to go on the disabled list. They rage at themselves.
Karen called me yesterday noon to come pick her up. She was halfway through the 3Day 60-mile walk when she finally agreed with her feet that she couldn't and shouldn't continue.
At the close of the first day's 20 miles, she marched into the 3Day's sprawling pink tent city, pulled off her shoes and socks, and examined blisters the size of brazil nuts, one on each foot, where the deep part of the arch meets her heel. She wears plastic orthotics, to straighten out a natural pronation, and the edge of the device rubbed at that vulnerable arch-heel spot.
She got the blisters lanced and treated and next morning, with "Second Skin" applications and bandaging, she continued. Nine miles out, after a second lancing and treatment at a medical tent, she had to stop. I came and found her and took her home.
The hard part is that she knew she had the 3Day in the bag. She knew it after the first 20 miles. Everything was fine, except for a blister on each foot that truly looked like a brazil nut. At these, she raged and cried. She needed to be out there with her team, and the four thousand other walkers. They were like an army, marching to liberate a people, and residents came out of their houses and businesses along the way to cheer the army and tell how proud they were. Buzzing around the marchers were "spirit people," on bicycles and motorbikes and in cars, wearing whimsical costumes like parade mummers and cheering the walkers on.
"I feel great," she said. "Everything is fine. Except for two little bleeping blisters." I told her what a little something like a sprained toe can do to a magnificent athlete like Antonio Gates, and how a Cy Young pitcher feels when a finger blister puts him on the bench, but it didn't do much good. She wanted to be out there, part of the experience of thousands of people acting together magnificently in behalf of a cause, breast cancer survivors out there marching, and she couldn't be with those brave sisters because of a couple of lousy feet. "All that training," she fumed. "No blisters then. I'd like to add up the number of miles I walked. A hundred, two hundred."
I would say at least two hundred, probably more, and it wasn't fair for the blisters to wait until game day. Injury never is fair. But, now we know how it happened, and next year she'll get the footwear right. Part of being an athlete is knowing that there's always next year.
She wasn't ready to give up. She thought she might be able to go today. Blisters always harden up when they are exposed to air. We took the patches off and gave them most of the afternoon and overnight to dry out. I was actually optimistic that she could get out there this morning. But the damage underneath was too much and continued to ooze. When she took a little test walk out to get the papers this morning, she could feel how full they were.
Her teammates called her last night to tell her how great she was. We are going to meet them this afternoon for a drink at a bar up the street from PetCo Park, where the walk ends, and then Karen will join them on the field for the closing ceremony. The check that the 3Day writes for the breast cancer fight will include the several thousand that Karen raised, but that won't close the deal. She knows she owes them 30 more miles. She will be fine in 2009.
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