The calluses on the sides of your pinky fingers finally crack and bleed, staining your skate laces. You quickly cover them with the bandaids you always carry in your skate bag, so as not to get blood on your files at work later that morning.
You keep a fan at the office just to dry out your skates after morning ice. Oh, and air freshener. And there's a designated place in your office for your Transpack.
You eat your lunch at 2PM so you can practice jumps and spiral positions in the office kitchen while your food microwaves without risking bumping into others, both literally and figuratively.
You quietly take quick "stretching breaks" in a secluded storage room.
You wish your colleagues wouldn't ask "why the limp?" because you don't want another lecture about "skating at your age."
Your orthopedist knows you and greets you by name upon sight. His assistant, too. He forgets which parts he's already treated, and so do you, so numerous are they.
You cut your own music, and your coach never worries it may not be "family-friendly" or the wrong length.
The newbie skater kids at the rink ask if you're a coach. They want your instruction even after you respond "no."
The first time skaters at public ask if you're a professional, God love 'em, even though we know it's only because the really good skaters with doubles don't ever come to publics.
When you pass parents and skaters coming to the rink after work in - work clothes! - no one recognizes you. Similarly, you've skated in slacks or a dress blouse at least once, cuz you forgot to pack skate attire and you refuse to miss a session.
You see your skates as a long-term investment. In fact you may take such good care of them you don't get any of the usual visual cues of breakdown until it's too late. Which leads me to...
...you suddenly have spare time to participate in forums, 'cuz you injured yourself yet again and are off the ice OR ELSE!