Monday, February 1, 2010

One frozen Johnson

Yes, that means exactly what you think it means.

Saturday was cold, real cold.  The kind of cold that has polar bears trying to blend in with the penguins to stay warm. It was 4 degrees at both the start and the finish of the run.

But I was determined to get out there and do some running with the club so I pulled on all of my layers and my new fuzzy hat and headed out into the cold, dark morning.  Surprisingly I wasn't the only idiot that day and about ten other people showed up to brave the elements.  Maybe there is a genetic defect that affects runners, impairing their ability to properly gauge when situations are definitely detrimental to their health, e.g., the risk of freezing your willy off.

Which brings us to the half-way point of the 8 mile run.  I had by now recovered feeling in my fingers after having them go mostly numb within seconds of starting the run.  I was glad that I could feel them again and truth be told, other than the occasional wind on my unprotected face, I was pretty warm.  Just slightly chilled but not to the point of discomfort.  Right after turning around to start the second half of the run my knee began to bother me.  It's been doing this so no big deal, so I stopped to stretch it out a bit.  Only took a minute or so and I was off again.

That's about the time I began to notice a little pain in my manhood.  I chalked it up to the tights, did some adjusting and went about catching up with the group.  Then I realized that the pain wasn't going away, in fact it was getting worse.  There was definitely something wrong with my peter and no amount of adjusting was helping.  What the hell was going on here?  Maybe I had somehow tweaked my tallywhacker and caused an injury.

But the pain was persistent.  All the way back to Vello's I had a burning sensation in my wee-man that was definitely not normal.  It wasn't until I climbed back into my truck and got ready to drive home that I finally realized what had happened; I'd frozen my John Thomas!  Quickly, I drove home, with a short stop for bagels, and began the rewarming process.  Luckily the damage was only slight and I was able to restore my old boy back to its usual self.  So let this be a warning to everyone out there, protect your vital areas in the cold because that totally sucked.

P.S. For those of you keeping score, there were eight different euphemisms used in today's post.


1 comment:

  1. I FUCKING LOVED THIS POST!!! Even the title made me laugh! And yes, I was counting euphemisms.... haha!
    Andy came in after Saturday's run with this look on his face that can't even be described. He just moaned and cradled the poor thing...
    Too funny! I'm so sorry, though! That's gotta suck!