If you were looking for any jokes about penile frostbite, you're humping up the wrong tree. I would never make any smart-alecy remarks about something so serious. Okay, I suppose it may be a little bit funny when someone else suffers from it (like the time Prince Harry got it). But it's not funny at all when it happens to you.
Having experienced a couple of seemingly serious such incidents, you would think that I'd know better. Today, it was 20F with a feel-like reading of 8F. I thought I was dressed appropriately enough: my fancy tights with one layer underneath - the old insulated undies. But that wind was wicked. As I started running with the wind at my back, I didn't feel too bad. It was only when I turned around that I felt it.
And 'it' got colder and colder. And colder and colder. I stopped at a convenient porta-john, and I think the warm pee passing through may have helped. For a while. Then everything got cold again. Eventually, and not a moment too soon, I arrived home for a mid-run break.
What to do now? At this point, I was six miles into a planned ten-mile run, I sure wanted to do more. But it certainly wasn't going to happen in my current state of inadequate malfunctioning wardrobe. By the time I could change, I would certainly be able to talk myself out of any further running. But then it occurred to me: stuff a rag down there!
Our rag pile is conveniently located by the garage door, so I grabbed a cut piece of towel and stuffed away.
Guess what? It worked. I completed the run without further incident. So don't worry about me; I'm fine. Maybe I'll even get smarter. Nah.
1 comment:
This is one of the most untalked-about problems when it comes to cold-weather running. I despise running indoors, so I'm that weirdo running in the single-digit temperatures, and more times than I can count I felt as if I had a frozen chicken tender flopping around down there. The thawing out process is rather unenjoyable, too.
Keep after it!
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