Track: 1, Molly: 0

I like to think that I'm pretty hardcore... sometimes. I mean, everyone has their moments.
My moments of hardcore antics have consisted of running (and walking) up Mt. Nebo in Dardanelle, completing a triathalon, running (and walking) a marathon, along with some other athletic accomplishments. While this may not qualify me as being an badass, I like to think that these achievements are notable.
On Monday, I decided to add to my list of conquests, but only by mere coincidence.
Every Monday since the end of February I have been volunteering at the Women Run Arkansas clinic in my town. I had told the director I would help before I switched jobs, and I decided to stick to that promise.
If you're not familiar with the clinic, WRA helps women build endurance and strength in order to be able to run or walk three miles at the beginning of May at a statewide 5K race. The race is one of my favorite races because it's all women, and it's quite empowering. For some of the women, walking three miles is their biggest accomplishment -- even if it takes them an hour and a half. Finishing the race is a HUGE deal to these women and I'm really excited to be a part of it.
So anyway... back to Monday... I had left work with just enough time to get to the track. You see, it's not the getting from Big City to Little City that is difficult. It's the getting from Big City to Little City's track that is the problem, as the track is kind of off the beaten path, as most tracks are. I mean, there aren't a lot of high school tracks with interstate frontage.
Well on Monday, I was in route to clinic and changing my clothes as I drove down the interstate. (Yes, I know it's unsafe. But I wanted to be on time). I had to be even more on time than usual because the other leader in my group wouldn't be there on Monday, so I needed to be on time.
As I was driving down the interstate, I had finally changed my clothes and was just about to put on my socks when I grabbed my bag and realized -- I forgot my running shoes.
I panicked and quickly went through my options. Okay, I could go back to my apartment real quick and get my shoes, though I would still be late. I could just run with socks. I could run in the cowboy boots I wore to work that day. Or... I could just run barefooted.
I chose to run barefooted. I don't mind being barefooted, so surely running barefooted wouldn't be that bad -- right?
Wrong. I was very wrong. Not only did my speed (the little I have) decrease dramatically as I shuffled along the track, my feet were enduring the track the best they knew possible, which meant my feet were developing blisters. And huge blisters at that. Of course, I didn't realize I was getting blisters until we were done running/walking our 2 miles. That's right, I ran/walked two miles without shoes.
Once we were done, everyone finally realized that I didn't have shoes. I received much praise, and even a "Wow Molly, you're pretty hardcore." Damn straight, I am.
But at the end of that day, none of that mattered. My feet were torn up. My feet hated me. And then, to make things worse, I popped the blisters... and tore off the skin. Extreme pain. Now my blisters were just open wounds.
Now I'm sitting here with my feet -- well, just my left foot because it was my inside foot while I was running -- all bandaged up. I have open wounds (former blisters) on both of my middle toes, since they are freakishly long, and two big blisters on my left foot.
I should have just gone to get my shoes. But then, I wouldn't have something to blog about. So what's the moral of this story: Every good screw up makes for a great blog post. And don't peel the skin off your blisters.