Day 175: Pants myself at the gym

Today I gave those exercising at the Northwestern gym on Foster Street a preview of my underwear selection.

This was an accident but was most certainly my own fault. Because the gym is about a quarter mile walk away, I wear sweatpants over my running shorts on the way to the gym, then take them off when I get there. However, the Foster gym does not have a locker room. Instead, everybody takes their winter coats and other clothing garments and hangs them from these big hooks on the wall, right next to the bank of 15 treadmills.

So, while peeling off my sweatpants, my thumb happened to catch the inner waistband of my running shorts. And down they came.

I had them at my knees before I realized what happened. To make matters worse, I was wearing bright, electric blue boxer-briefs from American Apparel. I frantically pulled them up and looked around to see how many people were laughing.

From what I can tell, no one saw. They were either too busy reading their magazines or too engrossed in the episode of “Skins” on the TV behind me.  So I think I emerged unscathed, although Stephanie is convinced someone on the treadmill or elliptical trainer today now has a great story to tell their friends in class tomorrow.