Gail, on the left, just finished the Dopey challenge with BRF Kimberly. No word on how long those post-race margaritas lasted in the hot Florida sun.

In this occasional column What Would Another Mother Runner Do (WWARMD), Gail, a mother runner to “two rowdy but well-loved pooches,” wonders what Another Mother Runner would do when faced with a blister at mile ten of a half marathon.

Gail writes:

I was running the Space Coast half marathon on the new North (i.e. less supported) course. Around mile 8, I felt a bit of burning in my foot but there was no first aid in sight. I found first aid around mile 9, where I stopped, got band-aids/tape but it was too far gone at that point — and stopping and taking off my shoes/socks that far into the race was probably a mistake. I poked the bear.

Going into the race, I’d had zero problems with blisters. But I had just moved from Tucson, Arizona, where there is ZERO humidity to Vero Beach, Florida, where it’s a walking shower it’s so humid. My dainty little feet had NOT gotten used to being all sweaty.

I had new-ish shoes, but of a variety I generally run in and l like without issues. I’ve literally unboxed versions of this shoe and run a full without issues. So dainty, sweaty feet were the culprit.

About another half-mile in, I knew I couldn’t keep running with shoes on. So I had a choice: run the last three miles barefoot or wait for the sag wagon to catch up to me.

What would Dimity and Sarah do?

Dimity says: I do not have dainty feet. But I do have sweaty feet, which have seen plenty of bloody runs caused by blisters.

I don’t know if there’s a difference between blister formed in humidity (not a ton of experience there) versus a blister formed in dry air (plenty of experience), but I think I would’ve kept my shoes on and kept going. I know that sounds a little masochistic, but I grew up on a gravel road, which my bare feet traversed all day long to play Kick the Can and such; and these days, I regularly perform DIY surgery with hot safety pins on unruly toenails. I also have crazy high arches, and the idea of running barefoot feels like it would hurt more than blisters.

What Sarah says: Running barefoot: NOT an option. If she thinks a blister hurts, she’d be heading for deep, dark pain cave running barefoot three miles with no previous “seasoning” of her feet. Talk about tenderfoot! Plus, I’d worry about stepping on glass or a piece of metal, then being sidelined for weeks, waiting for that more-serious injury to heal.

I don’t think she only had two options — barefoot or SAG wagon. I would go for Plan C (also known as the “Suck It Up, Buttercup!” route): Put your socks and shoe back on, and hoof it to the finish line. Yes, it would be highly uncomfortable, but on the pain-scale of 1 to 10, it doesn’t rank that high, IMHO. I set my marathon PR with the most MASSIVE blister on my right toe. (It was so big, it really deserved its own race bib!) Sometimes having one specific pain–like a blister–to focus your attention on, you can overlook the discomfort of gutting out the final 5K of a half-marathon!

What Gail did:

 

Instagram tells the tale.

“I hobbled along for about another half mile and found a lovely cement garden bench outside someone’s house. Sat my butt down, took off my shoes and socks, and ran the last three miles carrying my shoes. I ended up finishing just a few minutes less than what I anticipated I would with shoes. Not bad when you consider first aid and shoe removal stops!”

What would you have done, #motherrunner?