Bloody nipples and diarrhea: your first triathlon

Your fantasy sports life

If your morning elliptical sessions are usually passed by dreaming of your first triathlon or ultramarathon – to the tune of the Black Eyed Peas, no doubt – that fantasy probably goes something like this.

At the front of the pack before the big kick-off, your supportive-and-sexy biggest fan clings to your chiseled body and wishes you luck. With a wink and an air kiss, timed just as the gun goes off, you launch your agile self into the fray. And miraculously, a mere pop song later, you’ve finished the race – first – and are mowing through a stack of pancakes while a reporter from ESPN begs for your secrets. “Strength, passion and raw talent,” you tell her, before the award ceremony starts and you’re podium-bound to collect that gold medal.

Strength, passion and raw talent. Three good tips, champ! But before you sign on for the Western States 100 or some similar endeavor, don’t forget to consider the following five factors. And remember that passion can conquer many a challenge – but it may not trump a badly chafed nipple.

1. You will pee. Without knowing it. Plenty of marathon runners and triathletes don’t mind admitting that they let loose as they run (or bike or swim). So be prepared to do the front crawl through a urine-logged lake, or get hit by some droplets if the wind blows your way. But even if you’d rather visit the rest stops, you may not have a choice. “I started thinking about whether I should stop to go in the bushes,” recalls Thom Wilde, who finished the Coeur D’Alene Ironman last year. “And then I realized that I was pissing all over myself.” Losing control of your bladder isn’t super sexy – but it does save time.

The "Extreme Chafer" - a Laurel Canyon racer, post-event

2. That pee will be bloody. Long-distance runs can sometimes cause blood in the urine, from repeated impact on the bladder that creates friction and torn tissue. But when you go longer (like ultramarathons or Ironman triathlons), that bladder damage can get a little more uncomfortable. Lower back pain from kidney irritation, ongoing urges to pee, and urinary tract infections, are all potential side effects. As if running 100 miles isn’t uncomfortable enough, try doing it with a stinging urethra and a throbbing backside.

3. Your drive home might call for diapers. Most seasoned endurance athletes plan their food intake and output to the minute, especially before a major event. Drinking espresso, popping laxatives and avoiding fiber are all standard week-of-race tactics to clear the system. But during an all-day race, as your body’s stress response goes into overdrive, your digestion shuts down. Needless to say, the food you’ve been injesting stays put until after the race. And then? “Just don’t pick a route home without a few rest stops,” warns Wilde. “Things get explosive.”

Someone forgot his NipGuards

4. Your nipples will bleed. On a short run, BodyGlide and synthetic fibers can prevent red and irritated nipples or inner thighs. But when you’ve got 50 miles to cover and stop every few hours? Yah. You’ll bleed. Bloodsoaked shirts can look badass – but not when everyone knows the blood is from your nipples. NipGuards are plastic plugs that adhere directly to your nipple, and band-aids can also offer some protection. But nothing’s foolproof: “My band-aid fell off around mile 15, and I looked like I’d been shot in the heart,” recalls one marathon blogger.

5. There will be gas. After a few hours of intense swimming during an Ironman, your body is undergoing massive calorie and liquid depletion. So when you hop on that bike, toting carb gels, water and pb&j sandwiches, it’s easy to get carried away. In an article at TriFuel.com, coach Ben Greenfield warns athletes about the “sloshing, gurgling and gassy guts” they’ll experience on their run if they overeat on the ride. Your body can hardly even keep moving – how do you think it’s going to digest and process six sandwiches?

So on your next endurance superstar fantasy, consider a more realistic portrayal. I can see it now: you, around mile 21 of your Ironman triathlon. Sweat-soaked, your legs covered in drying urine (not all yours) and your cramping bowels loudly threatening to explode with every agonizing step. And there, hanging on for dear life from the bottom of your oozing nipple: a lone, bloody band-aid.