Joanna On The Trail

To be honest, I wasn’t sure how this was going to go. My right heel blister had been the dominant storyline of my training for the past two weeks (caution, in case you’re squeamish: there is a photo of said blister at the very end of the post). I had only slept 4.5 hours that night because I was so worried — I’d just done a 17-mile hike 3 days prior, and now I was about to attempt 20 miles on a rocky, rooty trail. But there’s a decent chance I’ll need to power through even harder things on the UK C2C so I couldn’t let a blister dissuade me from achieving my goal.

After a quick stop at Starbucks, I arrived at Wompatuck State Park in Hingham, MA at 6:45am for my 7:15am start time. I checked in, got my wristband, doused myself in sunscreen and bug spray, and joined the queue. The MammothMarch releases participants in small groups of 4-6 every 30 seconds, with an emcee playing music and sending each group off. It’s a fun format — festive without being overwhelming. I finally set off at 7:30am.

The Route

The course follows a meandering loop through Wompatuck State Park — tree-covered paths, with a mix of dirt trails, paved sections, and boardwalks over wetlands. We passed picturesque lakes and streams along the way, along with 1 deer, 1 live snake, 1 dead snake, and several cute pups. Southeastern Massachusetts is relatively flat, so the elevation gain was a modest ~900 feet — a stark contrast to what I’ve been doing in the Santa Cruz Mountains.

The one thing I didn’t love: the trail was absolutely carpeted with exposed rocks and roots, which meant I spent most of the day staring at the ground to avoid faceplanting. (I almost did, three or four times, but managed to catch myself.) It was only on the paved and boardwalk sections that I could look up and actually take in the scenery. Beautiful park, relentless footing.

Miles 1–10: Feeling Good

I set off on a mission. Since I was hiking alone — most participants were in pairs or groups — I was free to set my own pace and maintain it (after saying ‘on your left’ about a million times to pass those taking a more leisurely approach). I carried a smaller pack than I’ll have on the C2C: water bladder, blister care supplies, charger pack, lightweight rain jacket, sun hoodie, extra socks, Teva flip flops (just in case I couldn’t bear to keep real shoes on), sunscreen, bug spray, lip balm, protein bars, and a travel mug of Starbucks that I sipped happily for the first few miles. The blister pain was present from the start, but nowhere near as bad as it would have been in boots. Choosing my Topo trail runners — and leaving the La Sportiva boots at my brother’s house — was absolutely the right call.

The first refreshment station brought one of the great joys of trail life: PBJs. I love a PBJ on the trail more than almost anything. They were offering half and whole sandwiches. Guess which I chose.

Miles 10–15: The Middle

Around mile 12, the terrain was starting to wear on my feet and ankles — the constant micro-adjustments required to navigate roots and rocks were even more tiring than the typical terrain in CA. On the plus side, the general achiness in my feet was at least drowning out the blister. Silver linings.

After the second food stop (and another PBJ, obviously), I was starting to hear the “how much further” voice fairly loudly. Time for reinforcements.

Miles 15–20: Podcast to the Rescue

At mile 15 I put on a podcast — Acquired’s Vanguard episode, one of their multi-hour deep dives that’s perfect for long miles. If you haven’t listened to Acquired, it’s a go-to for trail entertainment: long, genuinely fascinating, and conversational enough to keep you engaged without requiring your full attention. Highly recommend when you need a distraction on a long solo hike.

About halfway through the episode, I suddenly stumbled into a clearing — and realized I was back where I’d started. Done. Just like that.

The Finish

I was so surprised and tired that I walked straight past the finish line without registering that I needed to cross it to claim my finisher’s medal. Thankfully a kind volunteer spotted me and redirected me back through. She also took my photo in front of the finisher’s wall — where I picked up the only sign that felt right for a recently retired person.

Final time: 5 hours, 59 minutes, 9 seconds.
1 hour and 51 seconds under my 7-hour goal!

I was tired. My feet were sore. And I was so proud that I almost cried.

After collecting my finisher’s certificate, MammothMarch Hiking Pass with finisher’s stamp, and some merchandise (shirt, sticker, magnet, patch), I filled a water bottle with ice, water, and Ultima electrolyte powder, grabbed some granola and pretzels, texted my family that I’d finished, and headed back to my brother’s house. I’d chosen the Boston MammothMarch specifically because it gave me an excuse to spend a long weekend with my brother and his family who live in the area, which made the effort even more worthwhile.

About That Blister…

That evening, I removed the Leukotape from my heel that had been protecting the blister for about a week. What it revealed was… impressive. Bigger than a quarter, filled with pink fluid. I spent some time weighing my options — leave it alone, drain it myself with a sterile needle, or get professional help — and decided that a blister this dramatic deserved professional attention.

I booked an urgent care appointment for first thing Sunday morning. The doctor took one look at it and seemed genuinely delighted. She confirmed there was no sign of infection, aspirated about 1.5 ML of pink fluid out of it (yes, of course I filmed it), and sent me off with strict instructions: flip flops or open-heeled shoes only until it heals, and absolutely no hiking. After chatting about hiking and horses for a few minutes, she thanked me for giving her something interesting to do that morning and sent me on my way. As far as medical appointments go, I think we both got something out of it.

By Sunday evening it had re-filled with fluid — about 75% of its former glory. This time I’m leaving it alone: Neosporin, a bandage, and patience.

The Colorado Trail is in two weeks. The blister has promised to vacate the premises. In the meantime, Week 4 of training is officially cancelled — doctor’s orders!