Joggers nipple

This week’s food for thought… lactating nipples

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 last night 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 mates 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 a 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 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 holiday in Thailand some time soon after, I would put band-aids over them 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 and I make my way through the hotel back to my room. Its only when I entered the bathroom that I realized that 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 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 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

I'm in London still

This weeks food for thought… one year on

It is a bittersweet feeling to know one year ago I had spent my first night at the University of Hertforshire, in a single bed adorned with sheets made out of industrial sandpaper and a mattress that contoured with the shape of my body. With jet lag neatly in tow, I vividly recall its side effects and the urge I felt to slip in to my skins and go for a run at 5am to explore the town site that would become my home for the next 6 months. After acquainting myself with the likes of ASDA and the Galleria, the realisation dawned on me that Hatfield wasn’t exactly the heartbeat of the motherland, nor was it the new ‘London’ as splashed about on a number of billboards.

Looking back those first few days were a combination of utter excitement and sheer terror. For some unapparent reason it hadn’t really dawned on me just how far I had removed myself from the familiar.  I’d been so preoccupied in the weeks leading up to leaving Oz that I hadn’t really considered the scale of condensing my life in to 24 kilograms of luggage and moving half way across the world where I did not know a single sole. I was definitely wading in unfamiliar waters. Facing the very real prospect of spending the next six months of my life without any friends I remember saying to myself as I wandered over to my first international students seminar “have you just made the biggest mistake of your life?” Ironically enough it was here and over the course of the week that followed where I would meet the people I would spend every day with for the next six months. Many of who became very close friends, and still are. What an adventure we shared! My only regret is that we didn't stay longer.

For anyone considering the prospect of exchange, I couldn’t urge you enough. It really was a life-changing experience, from learning a new culture, to making new friends from diverse ethnic and national backgrounds. In the end you gain a better appreciation of other cultures, as well as your own.

So here’s to England - what an escapade!

Bye for now

Cuttsy