Chuckie is tired. He's been flying back and forth to the North Pole every night for weeks now.
Mommy is also tired. (And quite thankful for the endless ideas on Pinterest). That said, he's only here two more nights.. I'm kind of bummed he's getting ready to leave.
On to the treadmill portion of today's post (try as I might, I can't come up with any kind of segue from a magical elf to a decrepit but beloved treadmill...).
It's no secret that I've been a part of the regular 5:30am crowd at the gym for eight years now. Early? Yep. Easy? Nope. Is there another option? Not one that works very well for this girl.
This 5:30 am crowd has remained virtually the same over these 8 years. Some have disappeared, others have joined. We don't know everyone's names, but we certainly know each other's faces. And. We know each other's machines. There's an unwritten rule that you don't get on someone else's machine - whether it's a bike, treadmill or elliptical.
There are many, many shiny, fancy new treadmills. They hook up to smart phones and have fancy TVs and amazing graphics and incredible cushioning. And until about 10 days ago, there were four very old beat-to-hell treadmills. Those four were next to each other. These things have no place to set one's phone, no way to know an average pace or to track one's run other than time and distance. Running on these machines is actually probably HARDER on one's body than running on the street. But these machines rock.
And between about six runners from our early morning group, those four machines were like gold. (Our schedules rotated enough that rarely were all six of us there at once battling for the machines).
About 10 days ago, one of these had an 'out of order' sign on it. And I knew the beginning of the end was near. I knew that it would cost more to fix that one than to bring in a new one. I was right. Within days - the broken one AND one that had been perfectly fine - GONE. Over the weekend, only two remained. I soaked up my Saturday run on one of them during a solid 6+ miles.
And today, sigh, only one of those two was functioning. It's as if when that first one went down those days ago, the others started to fall apart. Like those couples you hear about who have been together 60+ years ago and one dies, and the other dies within hours? Yeah.
Three of us runner girls were there this morning. One got lucky and got the only functioning old one. The other two of us were on the newer beasts. And we had an entire conversation about the demise of our beloved machines. As grueling and unfamiliar as it was, we got through our runs, the two of them on a speed workout and me on intervals.
Did I really take a picture of a treadmill? Yep. Am I being a tad over-dramatic? Yep. Will I live? Uh, yeah.
But am I seriously bummed about this situation? Hell yes. Eight years of a routine & a machine is a long time!!!
So as we near (at mach speed, I might add) the end of 2014, I suppose I'll welcome a new machine to my routine with the new year.
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