Running Dream #2

My workout is going badly. A troupe of acapella church singers in beige t-shirts is using all the machines I need. They are way too cheerful. They are doing conga-line dances in between stations. I am hiding from Trainer Kevin so he won't see I'm slacking off. Hell with it, I say, I'll just get a chair massage.

The masseur touches my calf with his fingertips. Agony! It's like he's ripped the muscles off the bone. Wow, he says, go visit that table over there.

The guy at the table hard-sells me on some shoes, particularly a gruesome model that from the ankle down looks like a beige moon boot. It has a sole as elastic as a fruit roll-up and an attached beige compression gaiter. "You have the wrong woman," I say.

"But but but," he says. "Beige is scientifically proven. I have studies!"