View from a Treadmill

Several years ago, when I was training for a half-marathon, I hated the treadmill. Hated it. I was a treadmill snob: "I run outdoors, thanks. The view is better." The treadmill was only to be used as a back-up plan, the emergency indoor workout when outside was too wet, too thunderstorm-y, too icy, or during summer when there was no way I was getting up at 4 am to run in the cooler, 80-degree pre-dawn. Nope. Treadmills were B-O-R-I-N-G.

Well, here I am now, quite a bit fatter and in terrible, terrible shape, and now, guess what? The treadmill is my friend. True, the view isn't as spectacular as running outside - you don't get the vast expanse of blue skies with puffy white clouds, you don't have tall rustling trees and birdsong, there are no curious horses pricking up their ears as you come huffing over a hill.  You may not get these things, but what you get that I am Eternally Grateful for is this: Air conditioned comfort and a machine that keeps track of the time and calories. It's just what I need, for now.  

Here are some views - and observations - from the treadmill.

Ellipticals and the gym entry. Also, the cardiac rehab center is just over there. And if anything is going to make me feel like more of a schlub, it's those folks over there in cardiac rehab. They have actual, verifiable heart conditions. I have an eating condition and a laziness condition. Seriously.

The weight machines. You can't really tell what the lady in the yellow looks like because, duh, I was on a treadmill attempting to take pictures around me - but the lady in yellow is my new hero. She is about five-foot-nothing and bristling with muscles. I watched her on the fly machine - she put on 5 stacks of weights. FIVE. Dang. I am totally intimidated and totally inspired: I want to Be. Her.

The fitness class area. Right now they're doing Bodypump. If I weren't on the treadmill I'd be in that room. I hate the exercise they're doing right now; you have to use bands and get them on just the right way and do these killer lunges. It's hard to keep your balance AND keep the bands from whipping off and snapping your legs. Fun times. 

Since I am apparently unable to run (eh, jog - sllllooooowwwwwly) for more than five minutes at a time, I am doing this C25K program (Couch To 5K - that's cute, right, the acronym?) which involves mostly walking with some intermittent jogging. Hence, the treadmill. I do this 3 times a week. The other 3 days I do something low-impact - like Bodypump or a water aerobics class. 

After the treadmill I do the elliptical. 

My attempt to remain hidden behind rows of people on the ellipticals is foiled when all the other people LEAVE. That means, the nursery - right there! Clear glass! - has a direct view out onto the gym. Luckily the windows aren't full-length. If they were my little grandson would've seen me, and then it's Goodbye machine, hello screaming baby.

 While on the elliptical I could hear the occasional screech from the nursery. I know this screech quite well. It's my grandson's happy screech of joy. Hooray for a new place with new toys to play with!  Just wish the baby could be happy without the random, piercing, parrot-like screeches.

Faster than a Galapagos Tortoise

 

The great thing about technology is this: With just a few clicks, I can find out interesting facts about the Galapagos Tortoise, which I knew was a slow-moving creature, but until today I had no idea just. how. slow. that could be. 

Did you know it would take over six hours for a Galapagos Tortoise to go one mile? For real. I'm assuming that it would take a fair amount of motivation, as well. Food perhaps, or an especially sexy Tortoise of the opposite gender to wink knowingly and urge the poor beast along.

Hormonal tortoises aside, did you know it didn't take me six hours to go one mile today? I'm almost as surprised as you are. In fact, I covered just over one and a half miles in 30 minutes today. Hey, I can't help it if I'm setting land-speed records....for tree sloths...

I'm actually super happy I got to run today!  (Ahem. I suppose I'm using the term "run" loosely, as noted by the aforementioned distance and time.) So at this pace, I will be able to cover an 8 mile hellish obstacle course after approximately 67 years of training.

Seems legit.

Here are the treadmills at my gym, looking all pretty and bright underneath the skylight:

                                                                        

Here's my treadmill. I didn't get a shot of me while using it because, duh, I can't jog and take my picture at the same time.

That's my drink! (You care.)

Annnnnd...voilà, la pièce de résistance (which is a fancy French way of saying "This is the cool part"): My mileage. Isn't technology awesome? The machine tells important things like how much ground I would have covered, had I been on the ground (and not on a, let's face it, slightly easier smooth surface with a moving track to keep me going), and it tells me how many calories I burned. Today it shows that I went over a mile and a half! Most of which was accomplished by actual running. Well, maybe half of which. Okay, not quite half, probably just under half. Possibly a third. But it was running. Okay, it was jogging. Almost speedwalking but not quite. It was definitely a jog, even if it was slow.

Jogging happened here today! Well, something happened.

At least it wasn't Galapagos Tortoise slow.

 

Victory and Defeat in the Time of 60 minutes

Didn't do a class today at the gym, instead went on my own with the surreptitious plan of trying a bit of a jog on the treadmill. Surreptitious, as in, I was going to try to sneak it in on the body before the knee could figure out what was going on and put an end to it. 

First, 30 minutes on the Nordic track machine: 

 

Music: Interpol, "Say Hello to the Angels" - Killers, "Sam's Town" (not the crappy acoustic version either!) - NIN, "Head Like A Hole" - Pink Floyd, "Run Like Hell" and AC/DC "Dirty Deeds (Done Dirt Cheap)"

After all good and worked out on this machine, I figured it was time. 

Time to get back on a treadmill. Time to take the knee out for a little jog.

I should've taken a picture of how pretty that treadmill looked, bathed in soft white light from the skylight above. I grinned to myself as I got on the machine and started it up. 

After a slow start, I punched it up to a whopping 4.5 mph. Found out the knee is most definitely NOT down with that plan. Slowed down, increased the incline. For the remainder of the workout I kept messing with incline and speed, to make it just challenging enough that I was actually working out and not just lollygagging along at a useless staring-at-the-art-in-a-museum pace. 

Towards the end of my 30 minutes, I had this great idea: I would sneak up the speed little by little, till a slow jog would be achieved.  

Hooray! This seems to have worked! My new theory now is that the knee has to be gently cajoled into a jog, and the slower the transition, the better.

So, imagine me, smiling like a fool, this huge triumphant grin on my face as I am jogging along at a positively glacial pace, when all of a sudden the machine stops. Out of the blue. How did this happen? Not smiling anymore. Stupid machine. What in the world?....

And I see it. I see it. The stupid thing that keeps the treadmill on. Most treadmills I've dealt with have a sort of key you insert into a slot, and that's what keeps it on. But noooo, not this one. This treadmill - apparently all of them at the gym - have instead a ridiculous little bobbly thing with a magnet on it that sticks onto this shallow indention. That's what keeps the machine on. It looks like a little Pokemon ball. Apparently I swiped that thing by accident - must've been while I was raising my arms in victory, like a runner completing a marathon - and that's what turned my machine off.

I was just a tad bit miffed at that point. I slapped the stupid machine with my towel, then went to ask the manager if the lost information could be retrieved. Because, you see, clearly the most important thing is not the workout, but that I can take a picture of the readout afterward. Alas, the manager told me what I already had guessed: that you can't get the information back once it's been turned off. 

Man.

But hey! I got to jog a little! That was kind of awesome.