I left this out of my BR50 report, mostly because it was too painful to relate. But I'll relate it now... but it will also be painful to read. Okay, you've been warned.
I am a little past the mile 45 aid station, the last before my finish. A few minutes ago, I'd climbed up the impossible "piano key" stairs that lead away from Snowville Road. At the aid station I had rubbed half a handful of petroleum jelly on the inside of my upper thighs. It isn't humid, but I always seem to be on the verge of chafing in that sensitive spot, so I've been spreading an ungodly amount of the goop at nearly every aid station.
Never mind that there's better stuff than old-fashioned Vaseline these days. Never mind that it could ruin my clothes. Never mind that it may not work quite as well as some of the newer type stuff. I figured that if I just put enough of the stuff on often enough, things would be okay down there.
I step off the side of the trail to pee for the first time in several hours. Earlier in the race, I'd have tried a little harder to find a tree or bush or something to hide behind. But at this point, any thoughts of modesty and discretion are distant memories.
A woman runs by and announces her presence. I have my back turned, but I think she merely doesn't want me to turn around, in which case neither of us would be happy.
After she passes by, I resume trying to pull my shorts aside. That's when I realize there's a new and unexpected problem: my skin is sticking to the shorts' lining. When I tug harder, it rips. Not the shorts, my skin! On the most sensitive spot a man can have!! It hurts so much that I let out a short, audible wimper. Luckily, my lady friend is out of earshot by now.
Yes, I'm a bleeder. Just like in There's Something About Mary.
I had been aware that chafing can and will occur anywhere that skin rubs against material or other skin. And I'm aware that this happens in the places you least want it to. As it has now.
I suppose this too will pass.
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