A good friend of mine from high school shared this story with me, and I immediately knew it was blog worthy, just based how much I was laughing. So, I had to share her story with you.. enjoy!
photo from http://www.flickr.com/photos/zebrapaperclip/2988963345/ |
Death by Treadmill
Picture
this… four treadmills lined up. Guy using one on the far left. I
get on second from the right. Twinkie gets on the one between us.
I’m going to town, I’m hustling, I’m living in the old days. 3.5 with
some incline and 5.0 with interval – no incline. Couch to 5K- I’m blowing you
away! I’ve got the earbuds in, I’m rockin’!
Twinkie’s
friend, Ponytail, squeezes herself between my treadmill and Twinkie’s.
There’s no more than seven inches clearance. Ponytail’s ponytail is
dangling in my space. Twinkie shoots me a look out of the corner of her
eye. I see Ponytail’s ponytail is bobbing as her jaw moves. I
think, “yeah… they are talking about me.” I hit the silence button so I
can listen in.
“Yeah,
I’ll just stand here and bug her. She’ll get off soon when she finishes
her Air Supply.”
Uh
Huh. You don’t throw that kind of crap talk around a 47 year old woman without
repercussion. Besides, I’ll have you know I was listening to AC/DC,
at high volume, ¾ of max. That was followed up by a little ELO and topped
off with Eminem and Pussycat Dolls. Why not just ask me to move over to
the empty tread on my right? I would have. Now they’ve made it
personal.
They
will not win. I will continue my pace in my Pikes Peak Sports shirt,
complete with marathon runner, that everyone in the gym realizes I didn’t
win in a 5K, but damn it to hell, I’m going to prove them wrong.
Twinkies, rude twinkies, little weasels, weasels with ponytails. I will
beat you if I have to stroke out doing it. And let me tell you, they’ll
be no 1.5 mph , nope I’m keeping up the 3.5 / 5.0.
My
husband was on the elliptical at the beginning of this battle. Now he’s
walking the track. Every lap he makes, he looks at me like WTF are you
doing? I just give him the eye as I tighten my grip on the
silver-handled, heart exploding monitors and get ready to hang on for the
interval. 25 Years of marriage – he knows exactly what is
going on.
I
became concerned when the heart rate monitor was flashing warning. I
covered it with my towel. I didn’t want Twinkie and Pony to see that my
heart was on the verge of rupturing and in fact I was going to start bleeding
from my ears and eyes at any moment. For the LOVE OF GOD please get
off your damn treadmill!
Full
volume! TNT, Have a Drink on Me, Rollercoaster- Ohio Players and Chili Peppers
– and now Cake. I’m not going down. I Won’t Back Down! Pearl
Jam for inspiration.
Twinkie
shut the machine off. Yes, yes. Now go on around the corner.
That’s it. Keep walking. … Yes, they round the corner out-of-sight!
I turn off the machine and it rolls to a stop. I let the tread carry me
to the end. I get off. The room keeps going. I’m stroking,
I’m stroking. Last heart rate – I saw it with my blurry eyes – 222.
HAHAHAHAHA 222 is that calorie or brain burning? Explosion!
Danger Will Robinson!
The
room slows down. I hobble to a weight lifting machine. I collapse
into a sweaty seat just occupied by a nice hairy man. The leftover sweat
is oddly comforting on the back of my neck. Attendant walks by – she is older
than me. “Hey, are you okay? Your face is really red. “ No, no I’m
not okay. My heart is exploding and unless I have my beer goggles on, I’m
seeing two of you. My ear drums feel like they had three layers of fuzz
on them – oh wait that’s pooled blood from my aneurism. “Yes, all
good.” I kind of drooled. “I’m just paying for that Twinkie I just
ate.”