That dreaded treadmill!
Marathon training is relentless. It takes about the same amount of commitment as a marriage, a child and bank loan put together. In sickness and in health you are required to complete the prescribed run, and in the prescribed time. So on a recent trip with my young son I was just not sure how I was going to fit in my speed work and my hill runs.
I contemplated leaving him alone in the hotel room while I breezed off down he road, but that seemed a little like child abuse or definitely neglect, in the name of my marathon goal or not, I needed another plan. The hotel treadmill it had to be. Living in Jamaica a treadmill is not such a necessity, we get spoilt, if it rains stay home and sleep, there are more than enough sunny days in a week to catch up. So I have to admit I was dreading my treadmill run. Treadmill runs are just sooo dull!
So there I am doing my warm up, and changing channels sure that I need a good TV show to get me through this. I set my first pace, no Garmin for me to check, no need to push harder or strategize about my pace, all I need to do is stay on this confounded conveyor belt. Boring!
So my first repeat consisted of my son running on the adjacent treadmill where he picks up speed and is having a ball. I am slightly relieved as this is bound to wear out some of his endless energy that my leaving him bouncing off the walls on our flight later that day. Suddenly I notice a swift movement, I turn only to see my son catapulted off the end of the treadmill and left in a happy heap at the end. “What are you doing?” I ask with some amount of irritation the large grin on his face suggested he was fine.
“I decided to stop!” he says confidently. We both look up at the treadmill still moving at top speed, clearly this was a “user issue”.
The second repeat he announces he is going to the bathroom. I send him off with the room key to get back into the gym. Off he goes happily only to return with .4 of a mile to go. He tries the key and it does not work. I sign language at him though the glass instructions on how to open the door, he looks at me like I am truly delirious. After several non-verbal instructions he gives up. My son is wonderful but patience is not his strong point, so he makes several non-verbal demands for me to get off the treadmill NOW and open the door. I motion him to wait, neglect or not, I am going to finish my repeat!
By now I have certainly had enough excitement. I am by now engrossed in an NCIS episode where a boy’s father is missing, mother is dead, step mother is not allowed to see boy, boy misses step mother. More drama than a 5 mile run can take.
I went back to my room having revised my stance on treadmill running, far too much excitement for my liking!!!
