Treadmill: When You’ve Just Got to Run.

The Waif-ish Gazelle

Imagine yourself in a gym, surrounded by physically fit people 10 years your junior, lifting weights, running 2 minute miles on the treadmill, and checking each other out in the mirror. With each pump of the iron, that buff dude in the muscle tee is eying that waif-ish gazelle on the treadmill in her booty shorts and sports bra.

Now, shift your gaze over a little bit to the person who appears to be having an upright seizure, has sweated through her shirt, and whose face has become a shade of red that leads you to believe they may indeed pass out. Voila! You found me, I’m almost at a 1/4 mile. I don’t run on treadmills. I started running on a relatively empty, barren road where only the occasional car will pass you so you could more or less convince yourself no one was going to see anything (and you wore jeans so if you did see someone approach you could be all, “oh me? I was just walking…”) but you can’t hide in a gym. And when fears of flying off the treadmill lead you to flail your arms, or clamp them down at your sides as though they’re paralyzed, or simply hold on for dear life, you just look ridiculous. And there are mirrors there to show you how ridiculous you look. But when the temperature climbs to 90 degrees and 75% humidity and you’ve got a a half marathon in CA that you paid a ton of money for coming up in 4 weeks you suck it up. For some of you, you put on your big girl pants and you deal. with. it. Because damn, turns out you might look ridiculous in a video but you look awesome in your still race photos (no, really, I do look awesome in race photos, smile and everything, just ask my mom.).

And so my friends, as we start August I tell you: put on your shoes, your workout attire, and go into the gym shame free. Flail, dance, and sing along to your music because you no longer care if everyone sees you trying to do the time warp while you also attempt to run a 10 minute mile because soon cool, crisp fall will be here and you’ll still be able to run more than 2 feet.

Then go get yourself some onion rings with the special sauce ’cause you, my friend, have earned it.

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