Somewhere between West River Road and Summit Avenue, blood will begin to seep through the shirts of a good many Twin Cities Marathon runners. It will seep from a particular part of the anatomy—their nipples—which makes this a delicate subject. It doesn’t happen spontaneously, as many non-runners might think. “This is caused by the abrasion of cloth on skin,” explained Dr. William Roberts, the medical director for the Twin Cities Marathon. One might think that a loose cotton T-shirt would be a comfort, but it so happens that such a shirt grates against the skin while a runner bounces perkily along the 26.2-mile journey. Over time, this will wear down anything that might stand out on a person’s chest.
Minneapolis runner Jason Butler had his first encounter with bloody nipples during a ten-mile training run. Afterward, despite an odd outpouring of general condolences from pals in his marathon-training group, he was oblivious until somebody shouted indelicately, “Dude, look at your shirt!”
“I looked down and there were these peach-sized spheroids of blood where my nipples had bled and bled,” he said. Not yet schooled in the indignities of long-distance running, Butler had left himself unprotected beneath a cotton shirt that became increasingly abrasive as it soaked up sweat. Being a relatively heavy-set runner with full-bodied pectorals, Butler is particularly susceptible to a recurrence. But the painful experience of showering his mangled nipples inspired vigilance: “I wear cotton only if I’m going five miles or less,” he said. “If I’m going really long, I use tape.”
Butler is lucky. Bloody nipples happened early in his running career, long before he strode down Summit Avenue, a spectacle in front of thousands of fans lining the Twin Cities Marathon course. While Butler expects to finish this year’s race with nipples fully intact, many of his peers will be less fortunate. Most are vaguely familiar with the
dangers long-distance running poses to their most beloved body parts, yet many fall prey to misapplied lubricant or they have trained with prudish running mentors who never broached the impolite subject of chafing. “It does not spare any gender, nor is it relegated to the back of the pack,” cautioned Dr. Roberts.
Occasionally, the ax does fall on women (they are mostly safe in sports bras, though) or on the pros. “I have a picture of the London Marathon male winner with a blood spot in the correct anatomical position,” he bragged. From time to time, the same unlucky circumstance has plagued champions of our own humble marathon. Most recently, Oregon-based elite runner Dan Browne broke tape at the 2002 Twin Cities Marathon with two dripping bullet holes on the front of him.
According to Dr. Roberts, few runners report the condition to medical personnel at the finish, thus the exact incidence is unknown. “It’s such a funny injury,” said Butler, affirming the doctor’s hunch that some runners are too ashamed to present with the condition. “My nipples chafed and bled,” he quipped with a whining tone. “How pathetic is that?” He favored a manlier affliction—say, a broken collarbone or a ruptured spleen.
Officially, Dr. Roberts recommends runners buy a runner-friendly synthetic shirt before race day. If they want insurance against nipple misfires: “Duct tape or anti-blister pads work, as do adhesive bandages,” he said. Or, they could follow the lead of one veteran marathoner at Grandma’s in Duluth earlier this running season, who cut two holes in his shirt, exposing the circumference of both pectorals. Fans along the course may have winced at the sight of his pasty white flesh bouncing in the sunlight, but surely they appreciated his efforts at self-preservation. His nipples looked fabulous!
—Christy DeSmith
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