Let’s get one thing straight: I hate treadmills. Don’t get me wrong, I find them handy – in fact, I run on a treadmill more than I run outside – but there’s something about working hard and going nowhere that hits way too close to home. If there’s something good on TV while I am at the gym I can force myself to run 40 or 50 minutes, but 20-25 minutes is usually all I can muster.
Especially when you’re hitting the treadmill on your lunch break. I planned on running with the Running Room group after work, but a last minute meeting forced me to reschedule my run for early afternoon. Missing lunch kind of sucks, but at least it forces me to eat light and work hard.
After a quick strip down in the Nubody’s changing room – another highlight of my day – I lugged myself up the stairs and into the gym’s second floor cardio area. It was jammed full of fast, fit women, which meant that I didn’t have my pick of the treadmill litter. Instead of grabbing trusty number eight (it has no time limit and I am usually able to stay on it indefinitely) I was forced jumped on clunky number two. Not only does the little bugger go into cool down mode after twenty minutes, it often shakes whatever I am reading right off the machine. Perfect.
I turned on the beastly contraption, set it to eight miles an hour, situated my paper into a perfect reading/not falling position and tried to get in the groove. It was not happening. Instead of breezing through the news section, I found myself watching the clock. Eight minutes. Ten minutes. Eventually I just put the damn paper away and stared blankly at the LED screen, praying for the run to end.
After an eternity, I hit the 5-kilometer mark (actually, it was 3.12 miles, but Canada uses the metric system and I am required by law to use it), turned off the machine and hit the showers. Next time I run at lunch, I’m heading to the park.
The only good news from the gym was my weigh in. I'm down to 147 pounds, which is three pounds less my last visit to the scale. 147 lbs might sound pretty light, but when you’re small framed, 5’5 and undefined, it’s not a pretty sight. I’ll feel (and hopefully look) a lot better when I’m under 140.
Tomorrow, I hit the track.