Bev discusses "itch" and "yuck." Who loves ya, baby?

From my email queue: I got a funny, delicate question this weekend.

When I started blogging, I had lofty plans for creating frequent explorations of deep philosophical and spiritual aspects of running. But two things have become apparent over the past weeks: First, I have a quickening sense of responsibility to my fellow runners who are now checking in with me for practical things. And second, I don’t have deep thoughts every day. So the “delicate question” meets perfect timing.

There is no good way to open a discussion of runners’ body parts described in terms of “itch” and “yuck,” so I’m just going to get to it. Candor wins out over Southern decorum.

The email question: “Hey, Bev. I have recurring jock itch. It’s easily treated and goes away, but it always comes back. I sweat heavily. I can’t help it. Between the faint, funky odor that has seeped into all my running clothes down to my socks and the frequent infections in unmentionable places, running is taking a toll on my social life. Yuck. Any suggestions?”

Yes, my friend. Bev has suggestions.

Runners sweat. Sweat is wet and soaks clothing. When a wet garment is allowed to remain in contact with a warm body part, microbial badness happens. (Yes, this is the correct scientific term.) There are ways to prevent it. Much of it is self-evident. When you’re finished running, take off your sticky, stinky clothes, and take a soapy shower. Dry thoroughly before you dress in your day clothes. Launder your running gear before you wear it again. If you can, use bleach. (Whatever you do, don't let your damp clothes pile up while you try to amass a load of "whites" sufficient to justify a bleaching. This will generate microbial badness on an apocalyptic scale. You'll never be rid of it.) And dry out your running shoes. Many runners have two identical pairs of shoes and rotate them, so one pair is dry while the other is drying.

But here’s the runner’s secret for helping keep bacteria, yeast, fungus, and other assorted “itch” and “yuck” away from the body. After you remove your laundered running clothes from the washer, but before you dry them, seal them in a plastic zip-up bag, and microwave anything without metal, still damp, for three-four minutes. Badness is obliterated. Then take your clothes out of the plastic bag and toss them into the dryer or hang them. You’ll have CLEAN clothes. Funk doesn’t survive nuking. (And yes, you can save the plastic bag and use it repeatedly. Very ecologically responsible. You can “go green” now, but in a good way.)

Okay, then.

I’m gratified that in spite of a brutally frank answer to a delicate question, we have a lofty, quotable moment this morning: “Funk doesn’t survive nuking.” We should all have tee shirts made.

Final thought: I think the Saints finally won their first Super Bowl last night because they trained every day and never gave up or stopped believing they were champions. Run well today, my friend. Dig deep and know.