I walk a little more carefully these days, and I’ve been blaming it on my cranky knees. Now I know better. I’m wearing the wrong socks.
The revelation came to me during a moment of silence at the vet’s office. The overhead television, sound off, was flickering for those waiting for their pet’s appointments. I glanced at it casually to see a woman stroking her legs sensuously, a man tackling a treadmill with supernatural vim, and a 70-year-old jumping a hurdle as though he had springs in his feet.
They were all wearing white, knee-high socks. Exercise socks, according to the closed caption. And not your common or garden variety white athletic sock, either. These had magic fibers, or a magic weave, or something new and revolutionary enough that none of those people minded looking like total nerds with their knobby knees protruding from the top of the tight white casings.
One man looked into the camera, the very picture of sincerity.
“I was amazed at the difference these make,” the caption said. “They really do work.”
I sat there, staring guiltily at my knees, blamed for all manner of crabbed, mincing or measured steps on my part. I glanced down at my sandaled feet, bare toes visible, nary an exercise sock in sight. The trouble, I realized, is my muddled thinking. I thought eating right, taking glucosamine-chondroitin supplements and hitting the NuStep three times a week were all the tools available to keep me mobile. Little did I know it’s all about socks.
I know there are people out there who wear support hose, and
I have no intention of doing that. I know there are support socks, and compression socks, and something called nurse mates. They all fit into the “squeezer” category, and that rhymes with geezer and who wants to admit to that?
Exercise socks, now, those will catch on. Those hint at fit, trim, active, even athletic people. Take a look around you. That senior jogging down the road? I bet he’s wearing white, knee-high exercise socks. How about that gray-haired guy trying to get on the high school track team? Pay no attention to his bony knees; focus instead on those classy white socks, the ones with the death grip on his legs.
I’m sold. I’m going to run out and get me a pair of those wonderful socks just as soon as I can convince my knees they’re not done for the day. If I’m lucky, by the time I find some, they’ll have come out with full body apparel in the same fabric. This gal is ready to be renovated.