The Dreadmill
12/30/2006 10:43 PM
In some crazed fit of goal setting I decided I would start running this year. I had made similar goals when I joined a flag football league (sore knees and rough housed by delinquent 20 year olds…on my team), biking…100 mile race (after 20 miles biking is kind of boring maybe if I had near fatal cancer or Sheryl Crow?). Bu this is 2007! My goal is to run in the Crazy Legs 8k in Madison in April which is roughly 8 more k than I have ever run before. In my training for doing this I have been following a program found on the net that promises to take me from couch potato to 5k in 2 months. I’m in week 3 of week 4 which is not so good way to start…I think the couch is gaining on me. Its almost of years of inactivity and drinking beer have had no benefit at all. I run on the treadmill at my gym there are a slew of 20 year old guys that run there too. I hate them…to add insult to groin pull (which would make a great album name) and I wouldn’t even classify myself as the same species as them. To say its disheartening is an understatement. They speed along and their legs move like gazelles over the rolling mat. I thunder on from behind them like a drunken rhino in pursuit. There is the soft pad of their feet on the treadmill nearly drown out by the thunder of my hooves. I’m the epitome of the song “Iron Man”…“Heavy boots of lead, Fills his victims full of dread, Running as fast as they can, Iron Rad lives again!”. I swear to god I hear that song over and over. The differences don’t end there they wear ripped and sleeveless shirts I wear grey t shirts from corporate outings “Believing in achieving!” …sigh. If I was them I would kick my ass on principle. Or when I feel really wild I wear my NYPD t shirt. Edgy. We sweat in the biological sense but they seem to have the sheeny glisten while I have more of an Amazonian downpour. In a new low I actually groaned during one of my runs and not the euphoria of the glad to be alive but rather in the euphoria of lucky I’m not dead. It’s a subtle difference. The positive is that I have fallen on the treadmill… yet. This can be mainly attributed to my near paralyzing fear of falling on the treadmill and being shot across the room. I can only imagine that’s not far off. Fate usually will wait until I’m comfortable before humiliating me.