Chris’ comment on one of my posts recently reminded me of a story:
Last year I was in Athens visiting Chris, and one of the things we had promised each other we would do during my week here was to have a crazy workout schedule. We made a pact that above all else, workouts would come first (well, second to work. But definitely above drinking at the bars. Definitely.)
So imagine my dismay when, on the first day of my visit, I was unpacking my suitcase and realized: I didn’t have my sneakers. Instantly I pictured exactly where they were: on the living room floor, at my house in Charlotte. Crap. I called Jeff to confirm. “Yep, I’m looking at them right now,” he said.
What to do, what to do, what to do …
I did happen to bring a pair of Old Navy slip-on shoes that came closer to representing sneakers than any of the heels I had also brought. They had rubber soles, and they were pink and grey but they reminded me a little of the Keds we all used to wear in middle school (and by we, I mean girls, Chris! Right Lindsey?)
So, I decided I would wear the Old Navy shoes down to the workout room. I wasn’t crazy enough to run in them, as they have no support, but I would use the elliptical and the bike and the weights. Problem solved!
At least, so I thought, until I looked up at Chris and saw the horror on his face. “You’re going to wear those? To work out?” I confirmed his suspicions, to which he replied, “But there might be people down there … they might see!”
I doubled over laughing as I realized that Chris was trying to figure out how to not be seen with me in a situation such as this one. “If they are paying attention to my shoes,” I said, “Then they are not working out hard enough! Come on, let’s go.”
I dragged him down to the workout room – and to his dismay, there were others in there. I paid them no mind as I did my weight workout and then hopped on the elliptical. Chris chose the treadmill next to me (surprised he didn’t pick the one across the room!) and he started running.
Several minutes into the workouts, and all of a sudden I hear a noise coming from his direction. I look over, and he is doing a flip off the back of the treadmill! Not just a fall, but a flip. In which he ungracefully lands in a heap on the floor. “Are you ok?” I ask, and he says yes and unfolds himself, explaining that he was messing with the tv controls and lost his balance, causing him to do something between a gymnastics move and a 3-Stooges trick.
At this point, I start dying laughing. “And you were worried someone might see my shoes? Serves you right!”
For the record, we spent the rest of the week at the bar instead of the workout room.