Date: Sat, 25 Jul 2009 14:27:50 -0600
From: Susan R
Subject: sore feet, shaving & chafe – Mike O’Melia’s finish
I wrote the post below hours ago, but lost internet at the motel. After several hours of trying to re-connect, I called the front office. The young man was kind enough to reset the router twice and voila. Anyway, for what it’s worth…
It was late or early depending on whether you’re an early-to-bed person. I’d fallen asleep in the back seat of my car when Laz woke me. He busted out laughing because I was out deep enough that I startled awake with a squeak. Oh well…I’m pretty used to being laughed at by now.
About 10 minutes later Mike arrived. He got to the rock and quickly laid down in the fetal position on it. I have photos, but haven’t loaded them yet into the laptop. You’ll just have to wait.
I’ve only known Mike through posts, so I didn’t quite know what to expect of him at the finish. Some runners have arrived and are too tired to talk. Others will answer a few questions, but not too many. There are also those very generous who have talked and answered for quite some time. Along the route the first couple of days Mike had not been in a mood for questions. He’d greet me, maybe say a little something or not, and move quickly on down the road. That’s fine. I was not there to interfere with anyone’s race.
So it was with some surprise that I sat and listened to the flow of humorous patter that cascaded forth from Mike. I was delighted because he covered the miles somewhat like I would have – visiting with people along the way. Those encounters were his best moments. He laughed about the old codgers in some cafe or convenience store who last year were embattled (50/50 split) over national politics. One of them vaguely recognized Mike when he re-entered their midst and joined in their conversation. He reminded them of their
political debates of ’08 and was much amused in that now they a united front (100%) in their opinion of the new administration. Times are hard in Tennessee.
Mike spoke gently of the older lady who has a produce stand that also sells an odd variety of things – something of a permanent garage sale. There was a little girl fluttering about the place. She was introduced to Mike, “Her real name is Haley, but she calls herself Hay-Hay.” Little Hay-Hay’s birth parents were or are both meth-addicts. They abandoned her some time ago. Mike took the time to be introduced to her animals – “Big Dog” and “Little Dog,” I’m going to have to ask for the name of her cat.
His stories had me appreciating his adventure that much more.
And then he discussed injuries. The man does not hold back. I asked if the pain was comparable between this year and that…some 10 minutes later I still wasn’t sure, but I knew everything that was hurting Mike, all about the hole in his foot from last year, what he’s learned to do differently for his feet, and why he wore flip-flops for several miles.
It was Dan Fox who suggested (a suggestion I declined) that I take photos of everyone’s inner thighs clean up to their crotches and place such photos on a website. I couldn’t figure out who would want to see such things, but then I’m a walker – not a runner. Anyway, I did decline the opportunity figuring that probably so would a good number of the runners. Mike probably would have been the centerfold.
I was not expecting vivid wildly funny description of what happens to inner thigh and nether-region hairs when caught in miles and miles of rubbing. The visuals went from knotted little twists to ones gripping each other from opposite thighs so that each step caused intense pulling of hairs on both legs. I really lost it with, “When I stopped to inspect and study the basic anatomy down there, I found braided pigtails – all that was missing was the bow.” I literally had a few tears running down my face I was laughing so hard. It was all I could do to write.
He shaved. Everything. He was not hesitant to tell us.
Now the interesting thing about Mike, once he’d finished there was no sacred topic. When he started his race he wore compression shorts under regular running shorts. Once the chafe started he tossed the compression shorts. He was forced to eventually tear out or cut away the liner of his running shorts. I’m sure my eyes were big and the question nearly escaped my lips when Carl answered for me, “Ah, a ball-swinging VolState run.” uh-hunh. Gasps and laughter ensued.
But it didn’t end there. Apparently Compeed bandages available at Walmart come in 2″x3″ size. Once the liner of his shorts was gone, Mike built a little bridge of Compeeds (I believe it was three stuck end to end). He
simply slapped one on the inside of one thigh, tucked the middle right up under, and then stuck the other end on the opposite thigh. Oh, the pride on his face when he said, “Now that is the trick…works great!”
I even learned that the beauty of losing the compression shorts and the liner of his other shorts enhanced his ability to stand and read his maps while peeing by the side of the road. You should be able to figure this one out without further explanation.
We both forgot that I was keeper of Mike’s wedding ring. He’d meant to leave it at home because his hands swell so much he knew he’d have to take it off. I’ll be mailing it back to him next week. There’s Mike O. gear near and far across Tennessee. Many times he said, “I am never doing this again.”
We’ll see…after all he’s solved so many issues along the way!
I can hardly wait for the Troubadour to finish…just think what he’ll have to say…
susan
Be the first to comment