These Boots Are Made for Walkin'

So one of the fun things about Amazon is that you can find annnnnnnnny old thing on it, and I decided to go find myself a new boot. One that presumably fit better than the heavy metal bear trap I’ve been strapped into. And of course, Amazon delivered. This one actually fits my shin like a glove, with no painful digging, and the footbed is ever so slightly longer while not making the overall boot massively bigger. So my lil shish-k-toe finally has a little breathing room. Set me back $65 or so, but it was so worth it. I even got the heel lifts in there, so when we’re ready for that part of the program, we should have no problem. It’s the little things when you’re laid up like this.

We’ve also been doing some renovations on the house, and new mini-split systems went in today, after a full day yesterday where they did a lot of banging and then left without a fully working system. But today? Today there is AC! And it is glorious. Again, the little wins are worth celebrating, especially when it hit 99 or so today here in D.C.

In addition, my new peptide stash arrived. It’s time to start moving to separate BPC-157 and TB-500 instead of the 50/50 “Wolverine” blend I’ve been running since the day after surgery. This way I can control the dosing of each, which can be helpful as the repair phase kicks into higher gear. So I’ll still take both, but I’ll likely increase the BPC-157, the one with the higher anecdotal attribution to tendon repair. Come on, guys, it’s time to step up that repair game, because heavy lifting starts next Tuesday (more to come on that).

Finally, a little nostalgia. Seven years ago today (July 15, 2019), at this exact hour, my crew was busy packing up the Tahoe and I was trying to sneak in a final hour or two of sleep. We were just hours away from the start of my last (and fastest) Badwater 135 race. And oh, what an absolutely glorious and crazy race that was. It’s amazing to see how well my feet held up out there, with really only one angry toenail on my right foot to show for it. 135 miles on absolutely blistering asphalt (three times, no less) shouldn’t surprise anyone that my feet have really been destroyed from running all these years.

Would I do it differently if I could go back in time? Absolutely not. Those of us who do this understand the brutal hold ultramarathons have on us. I hope I can give it up, but something tells me it’s going to be a long road, and the harder effort will have to be put toward the mental recovery over the physical one. I’ve only sworn off ultras for the remainder of this year. 2027 is a brand new year, and I really have no idea what it’ll bring.

But that’s a worry for future me. Today, right now, I’ve got a boot that fits, cold air blowing, and seven years of desert memories to keep me warm while my foot does the slow work of knitting itself back together. The road ahead is long, but for once I’m not racing it. I’m just walking it, one little win at a time. And honestly? That might be the hardest ultra of them all.

Here are just a few snaps from that 2019 race (including my feet, which held up better than they had any right to):