The treadmill is a necessary evil.
When it is too cold, too dark, too late or just too miserable to run outside you are left with only one option: Complain and then hit the treadmill.
1. I go to 24hour Fitness in the Pearl District of Portland known for its gorgeous gay men and its rather affluent, trendy gym goers. I don’t know about you, but when I work out I sweat, I get red-faced and ugly. I am not at my sexiest. So it requires Superwoman effort not to feel self-conscious when the girls with perfect ponytails get on the elliptical trainers or strut their perfect legs to yoga class.
2. The treadmill is not a good deal. It feels like it takes more so much more effort both mentally and physically than regular running and in the end I just know I’m not getting as good a workout.
3. It’s boring. I mean, really, really, boring. Thank the running gods for my MP3 player- the only thing that can keep me sane when putting in eight miles on the dreadmill.
4. A treadmill seems specifically designed to take all the pleasure out of running – you don’t go anywhere, the air isn’t fresh, you’re next to a bunch of other people who also aren’t going anywhere. There is no change of scenery and if you forget your iPod then you have to listen to the distasteful remixes that get pumped over the gym loudspeakers.
5. It’s self-inflicted boredom and frustration. I know that running on a treadmill is better than not running at all – so I go and I get on that damned piece of equipment and I plug in my time and weight and I zone-out to the magic of Busta Rhymes and Tupac.