March 4, 2010

The Dreadmill

I dislike runners. I don't dislike people who happen to run as a form of exercise, but I dislike people who say, "Oh God, I just feel so alive after a run and I need to do 13 miles a day to just clear my head and now let me tell you all about my special running underwear." I get it: these people like to run. As a human living in the 21st century though, I feel like someone needs to tell these folks how awesome cars are. It's faster than running AND it has air conditioning AND they charge your iPod!

I think I actually dislike runners because we got a treadmill for Christmas and it has quickly become the bane of my existence. Not only do I hate that piece of equipment, but I've grown to hate the entire act of running plus people who do it. The next step in my hatred progression: people who have feet.

Running is great exercise, though, so try to engage in it regularly. With regards to that aspect, running and I are okay. It's the act itself that gets me. I start running and I feel like I'm doing pretty well. I clip along at a high speed for a while and I think, "This is going great. I could be a runner. The time is just flying by on here. Heck, I bet I'm 20 minutes into this thing!" And then I glance at the clock and see I'm actually 27 seconds into it. From there, it all goes downhill. If I do make it to end of my 30 minute run without an asthma attack, I'm a sweaty, cursing maniac who shouldn't be trusted around fragile objects.

The part that makes it all the worse for me is that, even if I do manage to finish a 30 minute run, I don't get a chance to celebrate. It's because I have to get back on the damn treadmill in 2 days and do the whole awful procedure again. I would greatly prefer some radical new form of exercise that's so intense (think battling an adult gorilla), I only have to do it once a month. I'd actually accept the danger of gorilla fighting for a couple of hours if it saved me from getting on the treadmill and hating the world for 30 minutes every other day.

In spite of all of this, I've actually done a decent job at keeping up with the running and shedding the man belly. There is no chance in hell I will ever like it, though. From now until the end of time, the treadmill is known as the dreadmill.

Posted by Cody at March 4, 2010 7:20 PM