Burnt Nips

I am a novice at exercising. I have to force myself to lift weights but I love to run. I completed the 5K and now I am training for a 10K. I am being guided by a Nike program that documents all my runs and I have set myself to be on a running schedule to be completely ready for a 10K.

This week I ran 3 miles on Monday and Wednesday but then I was scheduled to run 5 miles on Friday. I made sure I did my run on the treadmill because I wanted to be sure that I finished as much of this run as I could. I didn't know if I would be able to actually complete the 5 miles because I had never even run 4 miles before.

The run was fantastic. I ran for approximately 25 minutes without stopping and then I alternated jogging and walking in a 3:1 ratio. It's exciting to be able to burn through 3 minutes of running and not even think twice about it. In the past I couldn't even get to 60 seconds without wanting to punch my lights out and now I just get on that treadmill and run. That's basically it. I run.

When I hit the 1.65 mile mark I never thought I would reach 5 miles. My birthday is in November and I was wondering if Matt would just come to Bally's, bring a cake, and attach balloons to my new treadmill, that I would have moved into at some point over the summer. I wasn't running for time or speed but for distance. I didn't want to burn myself out so I knew I had to maintain a comfortable speed so I would be able to finish my goal.

With my new desires to meditate and find my inner self I decided that while I was running I would start projecting some positive and gratifying words of encouragement to myself. Instead of thinking about all the stressors in my life, the anxiety of my day-to-day routine, and just life in general I focused on thinking about cheerful things. I was jogging, listening to music and telling myself, "You are awesome. You are amazing. You can run 5 miles. You ran a 5K. You WILL run a 10K. You WILL finish your book and everyone will love it. People think you are funny and guess what shithead - you ARE." 

It actually worked. While I was running I caught myself smiling and laughing at the wall. Now that I think about it, the guy next to me probably thought I was crazy because he quickly moved over a few spots to restart his upward climb on the treadmill. I didn't care because I was feeling great and sweating out all the stress that consumes me constantly. 

When I say I was sweating, it looked like I ran my shirt through the washing machine while I was still in it. I could have rung it out and made this machine a Swimmill. I continued to jog and eventually I hit the 3 mile mark, the 4 mile mark, and then finally reached my goal of 5 miles. I cooled down for a few minutes and wrapped up the run at 5.2 miles.

A very successful goal for myself. I was thrilled but as I started walking out of the gym my chest started hurting. Not chest pain but my two nipples were starting to burn like I had tried to iron my nipples to my shirt. I got to the car and was sweating so much I took my shirt off and drove. I noticed that my nipples were hard as rocks while I drove home and very tender. What the fuck was wrong with me? Did I catch breast cancer within the hour I was at the gym? It was very odd and I was getting nervous.

I got home, took my shower, got dressed, and by this time the cotton touching the two pebbles on top of my chest was almost unbearable. Holy damn was this uncomfortable. I could barely pass the soap across them without yelping out loud and leaving an indentation in the bar of soap.

When Matt came home I explained to him what I was experiencing, I really thought I was going to die, and he told me that I probably had nipple burns from running so long. It started adding up when I thought about it; a hairy chest, doused in an excessive amount of salty sweat and rubbing against a shirt - this was a natural disaster. My nipples were so tender that I couldn't even touch them and it felt like I had laid down on the treadmill and let the conveyor belt drag across my chest for 5 miles instead of running it. 

I am very surprised that I didn't combust and go up in flames. I was on fire. I might as well have been sitting there smiling at the wall rubbing two dry sticks together. The guy next to me probably moved over because he smelled fire coming from my fem-bot breasts. I could have shot a hole through the wall and run straight through it - carrying the treadmill out with me.

The pain is subsiding but these two little buttons on my chest are screaming for a fire extinguisher. It's comforting to know that if I'm ever stuck in the basement of a S&M bar I will be able to survive being strapped to a table and having my nipples attached to chains and pulled behind a Ford 150.