Tuesday, October 7, 2008

Confessions of a lost runner



So those of you who have been following along, I've started going the gym. And it hurts. But at least I have a new toy to keep my mind on other things while I make myself hurt all over (bet you'll never guess what it is).

One of the things I've noticed about my gym excursions is that I'm into the same kinds of things exclusively. Once upon a time, I used to be a runner - cross country, in fact. So where do I end up? On the treadmill. But I never go on the track; in fact, I hate it. I never did track in school, nor do I intend to now.

The treadmill is the closest thing I can find to cross country. Like my days of romping thorough the woods and mud, the treadmill is a long-distance style of running. You can change the speed at will, but mostly you run as a constant pace for a long period of time. The television in front of you ensures that you are always entertained by new images. The machine I use even cheers for me and tells me how much I have left until I'm done - kind of like an electronic fan/spectator in the crowd near the finish line.




It's bad for me, I know - it'll hurt my joints, etc. And it's probably not a good workout to gain muscle mass and core strength for ice skating. But (secretly) I have dreams of grandeur... like running a/the marathon one day.

My Monday/Wednesday/Fridays, however, will have to do until I decide that 30 minutes at the gym has equipped me for a 26 mile run. That's fortunately very, very far off.

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