Over the weekend, by a stroke of pure genius/insanity, I finally decided to get into shape. According to my plan, today would be the first day of exercise. I dusted off my old treadmill (aka clothes hanger), and went out to the shed to dig out my old sneakers. I’ve had them since 1999 and sadly they’re still perfectly fine. Only the slightly yellowed shoelaces and their somewhat squished appearance from having been stuffed under a box of books for a few years, gives any indication that they’re not in fact brand new. I mashed my chest into a sports bra that gave me a nice firm uniboob, and put on some old gym clothes. I made sure the TV was hooked up to the dvd-player so I could watch whilst exercising, and then I went back out to the shed to dig up my collection of The O.C. dvds. I was completely prepared for a good time.
I got on the treadmill (it still worked!) and started the easiest program and timed it to 40 minutes. The program said it would go over sixteen intervals, starting at 3 km/h, slowly build up to a top speed of 7 km/h, and then ease down to 3 again at the end. For the first five minutes it was all dandy. And then all hell broke loose.
It all happened in a matter of seconds. Instead of speeding up to 4 km/h, like we’d agreed, my treadmill decided to play a practical joke on me. It passed right by 4 km/h, which was supposed to be the speed for the next interval, and was moving up towards 5. Okay, I thought, Maybe I’ve misread the program overview. It’s all good. When it didn’t stop accelerating at 5, but moved swiftly up towards 6, I still thought I might have misread the program. As it moved up towards 7, I figured I’d simply repressed how quickly we were going to reach top speed. I was now jogging at a brisk pace (brisk for me, anyway), hoping this interval would be short. As the treadmill speed passed right by 7 km/h, moving towards 8, I knew the damn thing was fucking with me.
7 km/h was supposed to be top speed of this program, dammit! As the speed passed right over 8 km/h, moving towards 9, I was officially worried. Luckily, the speed stabilised at 9 km/h, because I don’t think I could have lived through 10. Not that 9 was treating me gently either. That might be a nice speed for more seasoned joggers than myself, but I was getting winded at 6. Hey, at least I’m making an effort, right? Baby steps. Anyway, I kept up for about fifteen seconds and then noticed that I was moving slightly backwards. I was running too slow. A few seconds more, and I would get thrown into the wall behind me. I hoped the neighbours – who share that wall with me – weren’t home. I grabbed for the treadmill dashboard and punched it till I hit the pause button. Thankfully, the treadmill figured it had had enough fun on my behalf, and slowed gently to a stop. I jumped off.
I called Boyfriend for assistance, as he’s somewhat of a tech-whisperer, and also, since the treadmill had worked just fine when he’d tried it an hour or so earlier. Of course it had. So he did his magic, and by that I mean he double-checked and confirmed that I hadn’t in fact chosen the wrong program. Then he restarted it for me, and walked for five minutes until the speed increased to the 4 km/h interval and stabilised there, before he let me take over. It worked fine from thereon out. Boyfriend wasn’t able to figure out why the treadmill had gone crazy on me the first time, but I know. It’s out to get me. But now I’m prepared, and I won’t be surprised at the next sneak attack. I’m going to get into shape even if it kills me. BRING IT ON!