The last time I attempted to run on a treadmill I lasted two miles. Those two miles took an eternity. No exaggeration. If you ever start to feel like time is slipping away too quickly head to the treadmill. Defying all laws of physics, treadmill time moves four times more slowly than time anywhere else on Earth. That is a proven unsubstantiated fact. During my epic two mile journey I began to wonder if it was actually possible to die from boredom. I survived, so my conclusion is no.
It baffles my brain that people happily, regularly, and voluntarily run on treadmills. That they even prefer treadmills to the great outdoors. Treadmill running may be fun for animals in science experiments (and for the researchers), but humans on treadmills – even the ones who allegedly love the machine look terribly unhappy. I will run outdoors in almost any condition, really – almost any, to avoid the dreaded treadmill. Dreadmill, if you will. One of my few exceptions – I tend to avoid running alone in strange cities late at night. I don’t know where to run and I’m not normally organized enough to plan things out in advance. That’s where the dreadmill comes in.
Recent circumstances have again led me back to mechanized running. I learned my lesson and set my expectations low – aiming to stay on the conveyor belt until the 5K mark. Note to Self - remember to convert to miles in advance, on-the-run math is not your strength. 5K doesn’t sound ambitious, but my two-miler was supposed to be 5K and by one mile I wanted to see how far I would fling behind the machine if I stopped running, just to add some excitement to the run. Those thoughts amused me for a solid 1k. During this attempt, to my great surprise, I doubled my previous accomplishment and surpassed my 5K goal – four miles on the treadmill. By the end I entertained myself by counting footsteps. Here’s an interesting discovery: It’s easier for me to count every right foot-strike than it is to count every left foot-strike. My definition of interesting changes after four miles on a treadmill.
Like this:
Be the first to like this post.
My inability to remain on a dreadful treadmill for longer than 15 minutes is well documented. My love of Lego has not been documented. Until now. I love Lego. Present tense. I never outgrew my favourite childhood toy. You can imagine my confusion when I spotted a Legoland treadmill. Quite unexpectedly I found myself drawn to this instrument of torture, with its flashing numbers taunting me about how slow I’m going or how far I have yet to go. I actually felt an urge to use my gym membership, excuse me, my monthly “charitable donation” to the YMCA, and check out the road to nowhere. It has been a year. Maybe it isn’t as awful as I remember. In Lego scale suddenly the treadmill seems less a soul-sucking device and more a wonderfully fun activity. Am I converted? Not yet, but this video might push me over the edge. 
