Although I’m upset that I developed athlete’s foot well before any sign of athlete’s abs, I have still taken some pride in the development.  I have attempted to share this pride with others:

ME: I have athlete’s foot!

SHE: You mean the thing with the...the…

ME: ...fungus!

SHE: That is so gross.

ME: No. It means I’ve been paying studious attention to my physical health!

SHE: There’s other ways to get athlete’s foot other than being an athlete.

ME: Shut up.

SHE: Have you been wearing different shoes?

ME: Okay look, I never had it until I bought those form-fitting cotton socks from Costco. But I do not think they are the cause!

SHE: I don’t want to talk about this. It’s gross.

(The next day):

ME: Hello again!  Are you ready to discuss my fungus?

SHE: NO.

For a while I let the condition fester.  But the skin began to look red, scaly, and misshapen, as though I had accidentally stepped into a lobster that subsequently attached itself to my foot.  So I reluctantly started applying medicine.  This itself was educational—I had many potential medicines to choose from at the drugstore, and almost picked up one that said “FOR WOMEN ONLY.” Seriously, who says there aren’t fundamental differences between the genders? They don’t even get foot fungus the same.

And now the medicine is starting to work and my foot is going back to normal, and I sense a little piece of my specialness disappearing with it.  My only consolation is that I can probably get it back simply by going on some extended runs wearing Costco cotton socks.  I can tell you, that is a very nice feeling to have.