Let's move on to a different kind of clog shall we.
Namely my ears. They are clogged with the chlorine saturated water of the Court St YMCA. I was under the impression that YMCA stood for Young Men's Christian Association. Oh no. I think it really stands for You May Catch sight of Ass (and I'm sure Ester will be back me up on this). There is a constant stream of naked women ambling (and I mean ambling) through that locker room. I know this makes me sound prudish and seems counterintuitive considering my experience with organized sports, but I find it jarring to open the door from the humid stairwell, tired and dazed from my swim, only to come face to cheek with a variety of wrinkles, tan lines, and states of verticality. Didn't anyone's mother teach them not to bend over in front of people they're not biblically acquainted with? (I know, I'm stretching it a little too far because anyone who knows me would scoff at my bad attempt at biblical humor.)
The good news is that the only discomfort I've experienced thus far at the Y has been in the sea of nipples and discarded towels. My foot is holding up extremely well. No more clunky walking boot! I've moved on to the custom orthotics recommended by my GQ podiatrist. My walking speed still leaves something to be desired (especially when I'm trying to navigate the Naked Room). If I were living in some other half awake city this would be no problem, but around here the pace of pedestrians is so breakneck that I feel like I have to constantly peer around to make sure I'm not clogging up the sidewalk. (I'm rusty. Let me have my words.) I wish there was a way to let people know that while I have no visually evident impairment sans boot, I'm still not physically capable of sprinting through the subway stations. Maybe if I walked around naked people would give me a wider berth.