Guest Post: jogger’s nipple

I have stolen this post from my friend Jordan’s blog. It was too hilarious not to share. Hope you laugh as hard as I did/snort tea out of your nostrils.

Run blog

“My chafing is such a bitch, it’s like someone razored me in my boobies”

–       Sean Tolkey, The Big C

I had to laugh when watching an episode of the Big C recently when Sean’s attempt to run a half marathon was cut short because of some excruciating fabric friction in the nipple area. I felt like saying, “don’t worry Sean you are not alone”.

Last week I found myself asking a mate’s girlfriend a question I never thought I would find myself asking, and given the look on her face, probably one she never thought she would have to answer. ‘Can I borrow some paw paw cream? My nipples are so dry’. Thankfully she was very obliging.

‘Where’s he going with this?’ you might be thinking. Well, amongst the myriad of strange bodily problems that I seem to be plagued with, joggers nipple is another one (in other words, bleeding nipples). Just to clarify, they aren’t dripping away at all hours of the day, only when I go running.

I first learnt I was suffering from this condition  (as I’m now calling it) when I went for my first 10km run. I came bounding through the door expecting a round of congratulations from my housemate at the time, only for her to ask me why my white singlet had two large brown stains in the nipple area, looking as though someone had thrown choc milk at me. I kind of wish they had.

In an attempt to rid myself of this problem I decided when on holiday in Thailand some time soon after, I would put band-aids over my nipples to avoid this embarrassing moment from reoccurring. Problem solved I said to myself. Only I forgot I had put them on and after finishing a run in the hotel gym I thought to myself, ‘what better way to cool off than a dip in the swimming pool?’. Off goes the shirt and as I enter the water I can’t help but notice some strange looks from fellow hotel guests. Probably just admiring my freestyle stroke I thought. Thinking nothing of it I exit the water, towel adorned around my neck, shirt still off, I make my way through the hotel back to my room.

It’s only when I entered the bathroom that I realised I hadn’t taken the band-aids off when swimming and it suddenly dawned on me that they weren’t in awe of my bilateral breathing abilities, instead they were thinking ‘why on earth does this idiot have two band-aids in the shape of a cross on each of his nipples?’.

I’m surprised I didn’t go in to cardiac arrest as I ripped them and shrieked in horror.

Do you suffer from jogger’s nipple? Or am I the only one, along with breast-feeding mothers? So if you do see me running, don’t be alarmed, I haven’t been slashed across the chest. Or if on an evening out if you find me rummaging through your drawers or looking very attentively in your bag, I’m not stealing, simply trying to catch a glimpse of that magic red cream and hoping for a bit of relief.

Bye for now,

Cuttsy

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