Freaking out over bloody nipples

In June I participated in the Half Marathon event at the Standard Chartered Marathon Kuala Lumpur, and for the first time my nipples hurt like crazy for days afterwards. The pain was excruciating in the shower. It had never happened before with other marathons, half or full.

I put it down to opting for a baggier running singlet for comfort, but ended up having the fabric rub against my nips even more during the 21km jog-walk, than a more huggy singlet would. Maybe, I don’t know.

Then I just had to come across this Buzzfeed article, which brought my delicate eyeballs to settle on this beauty:

bloody nipples marathon

Photo by seth2dana. Source:, via Buzzfeed. Click photo to go to source.

And in a daze of morbid fascination, my index finger just had to click on the source at flickr, which brought me to many other photos of bloody manipples.

Normally I would just go ‘eww’ a bit, laugh, then forget about it. But it happened mere weeks before I did the Full Marathon in Singapore last Sunday. And with the memory of the bloodless but still painfully chaffed nips from June fresh in my mind, I was concerned just a teeny wee bit. No, I should be honest. I was terrified.

I told myself the photos are photoshopped or that’s just paint dabbed on for a laugh, but just in case, I took up the suggestion of one of the commenters there by sticking band-aids over them nips. Simple and cheap, and turned out to work well too. I chose the ‘fabric’ type of band-aids, which tend to stay on longer than the plastic type, and they did stay on for the 6 hours 18 minutes I took to finish the course. Impressive of the humble band-aid, considering I was drenched with sweat practically the entire time.


A wonderful memory

This picture below I saw at Dlisted brought a smile to my face, because it brought back funny memories of when I was a kid, of, oh maybe eight or nine years old.

wonder woman at the marathon

From Click to go there.

As a kid that age, I had the good fortune of making friends with another boy in the Keppel Road neighbourhood who was just like me (read: girly).

Wonder Woman was on television, and of course she was our favourite show. My penchant for all things arts-and-crafty must had already kicked in at that young age, because one day I constructed her headband/crown thing out of vanguard sheet for us, lovingly drawing and colouring that red star in the centre. I don’t remember if I did her belt and rope thing too, probably not. But the headband I remember well.

Wonder Woman Lynda Carter

Image from Click to go there

We took turns playing Wonder Woman, the other playing the villain being chased. After we put it on, we would twirl and spin like crazy to enact Lynda Carter transforming from Diana to Wonder Woman, and then run around all the neighbourhood screaming and laughing like banshees, not giving a shit about other kids and adults probably shaking their heads at us.

You don’t care yet at that age. Unless there’s an adult to reprimand you and tell you off that boys should behave like boys, which for me didn’t happen until about a year later. And although some kids were already cruel at that age, with the more vicious in store in the coming years, at that age somehow it was so easy to brush it off. So in the meantime there we were, happy and free to enjoy that precious period of our childhood as we wished, carefree.

I wonder what happened to that friend. We moved shortly after. I don’t remember his name, his kid face then very vaguely. But I remember very well his enthusiasm and energy, his spirit.

Anyway, with regards to Wonder Woman the marathoner, what a great fun costume. She looks fantastic, not forgetting with regards to her physical fitness. Way fitter than I am. Look at all that sinewy muscle in the arms and legs.

If I were in that marathon and notice she was about to pass me, I would call out, “You rock, Wonder Woman!” and offer up my palm for a high-five. Hah.