Death by Treadmill......

We interrupt your regularly schedule programming with a guest blog!

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.”