...will do the running for you while you hibernate in stasis to preserve precious heartbeats.
Just when I was starting to dig winter running again, the temperature maple-dipped into my orange pekoe discomfort zone, and visions of treadmills began steeping in my dreams (I often dream of mechanical things, like mandroids, doesn't everyone?). I don't need warm weather for running, but I have my limits and those limits are shaking their old man fists in the air and barking orders at me right now. You'll keep us inside until the mercury rises like zombies at a brain party, a warm brain party, and not a minute before! Okay okay, take your hands off me and grab a kabob instead:
// Delicious array of Turkish delights (but not the actual Turkish Delight) // |
Yesterday I ran on a treadmill for 18k, and although I was really motivated when I started, I felt increasingly alienated from my goal and my entire body because machines are weird, and why can't they be more like robots of the future that will understand exactly what you want and then give it to you immediately. The machines at my gym are programmed to stop after 35 minutes, and OBVIOUSLY I've only been running for 20 years and haven't quite mastered the 18k in 35 minutes miracle yet OBVIOUSLY. After slipping into a nice groove and maintaining coordinates, the speed would suddenly slow to a crawl and after the shock of re-entering society after being inside my head for a half-hour, I would be faced with punching in my specs yet again, of course while keeping my head down to avoid eye contact with any treadmill-desiring gym person looking to perform a hostile but ultimately fair & legal takeover of my machine, and going through the warm up phase for the umpteenth time. And I had to go through this insane process four times because my hand accidentally made contact with the emergency bar at one point, and the treadmill froze up, thinking I was suffering a stroke and needed immediate assistance. Sigh. Back to the beginning. "What kind of run do you want? How much to do you weigh? Would you like me to run for you while you shave your legs in the steam room?" That's the question I never get asked.
This treadmill experience even affected my appetite. Usually by 18k I would have consumed at least one gel but I didn't feel hungry until I headed home, and by then I could have dismantled and devoured a treadmill by myself, bolt by bolt. I don't think I'm as aware of myself on the treadmill, but on a positive note I definitely have an increased awareness of the awesomeness of avoiding hypothermia! See you soon, TM!
1 comment:
The 35 minute limit is odd. Why not a rounder number such as 30 minutes? Is it 30 minutes plus a five minute warm up?
The premature stop is horribly jarring, at any rate!
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