Scratching An Itch

We've all been there haven't we?! Sitting in bumper to bumper traffic when we're hit with an inappropriate itch. Not that itches are ever inappropriate. But where they are might be and scratching them in public? Not a good look!

Yes, this happened to me today. Driving home from a run and it's peak hour. The traffic's not moving far or fast and I'm itchy. Maybe itchy's not the right word for it. The sensation was more like a sting. Or stings. Not a bee sting or a wasp sting just a sharp little stab that happened over and over again in my bra.

Instinct said to scratch. Decorum and training said restrain. There are just some things that a lady doesn't do in public. And I was in public. Whether I'm a lady is up for discussion but let's pretend, shall we?

When the traffic's moving slow, drivers get bored and look for any distraction. And I'm pretty sure that the business man in the next vehicle would have enjoyed the distraction of me with my hand down my shirt having a good old scratch. Same with the tradie in the ute who slowly passed. And that reminds me - why do I always end up in the slow lane?

But back to the itch. I tried the subtle rub with the upper arm while pretending I was stretching my neck. Made no difference at all. So I tried to mask a subtle but harder rub with the opposite hand. Still no good. What this itch needed was some nail action. And to do that I needed privacy.

So I suffered in silence for a good ten minutes. Ten minutes of strong impulse being denied. That's nothing for an endurance athlete. Except that it wasn't. I fought that impulse to scratch like I fight the impulse to stop three quarters of the way through every race.

And then finally I was out of the traffic and I could let rip. And it felt so, so good. So good in fact that I didn't realise that I was going through a school zone without slowing down. Oops! Thank goodness the police weren't there with a speed gun because it would have been awkward trying to explain why I was distracted. Would boob itch be a good enough excuse to let me off with a warning?

When I got home I went to shower and found out the source of my discomfort. Four little ants. Not sure how they got there or when but we're all regretting their decision. But at least I'm home alone and can scratch my welts to my heart's content.

In other news - I turn 52 tomorrow. And I'd like to announce to the world that I've finally matured. I was told that we were going to be running fartlek in our speed session on Tuesday and I didn't smirk, giggle or laugh out loud. Yay me!