Sunday, October 12, 2014

Biking in Clogs

For about seven years, I went to the gym regularly. Then I had a years-long eczema flareup, and the sweat and hot showers became too much for my skin. Then I had kids and basically gave up on life. It wasn't until I started physical therapy after ACL surgery that I darkened the doorway of a gym again. And let me tell you: it wasn't pretty. 

It was noon on a workday and my physical therapist's office is next door to my old gym. It was time to ride the bike, she said. Here are some shorts, she said. So there I am in blue size medium men's lacrosse shorts with ten days of leg stubble. I'm at work, so my footwear is (what else) brown Dansko clogs. And I've got a button down shirt on. Since I'm not a gym member anymore, the PT walks me in there with a green permission slip, takes me over to the bike, sets it all up for me, and says she'll be back in a minute. Every other machine is taken by someone in frenetic-spandex-lunch-break-workout-mode. So I get on and start biking. 

It's hard to quantify the level of embarrassment in having a medical professional hand you loaner shorts, escort you into a gym with a permission slip, and put you on a stationary bike in clogs. It's not the MOST embarrassing thing ever, but it's certainly not the least. I'd probably put it somewhere between "your parents asking the tour guide questions on a college campus tour" and "your maxi-pad leaking during algebra class." When it was all over, she gave me the green permission slip and told me to put it in my wallet for safekeeping. Apparently, I could use it to come back anytime.


  1. I found your blog on Jill Homer's site and just wanted to let you know that I'm enjoying it. You have a terrific sense of humor!


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