A discussion on boredom…

I have been asked on multiple occasions, “Don’t you get bored running on the treadmill?” My answer typically is fairly honest, no. But people look at me in disbelief as if I had just tried to pass of my knock-off Prada as the real deal. So I will attempt to take you through the process of an average treadmill run’s thought process.

Stage 1 – the warm up: First thoughts have to do with whether or not I have to go to the bathroom, do I have sufficient reading material, does my water-bottle rattle distractedly in the treadmill’s cup holder, what is my hair doing, what garment has the highest potential for chaffing, and most importantly are my shoes tided?

Stage 2 – actual running begins: Pain. Odd random pain in either foot, shin, calf, or hip. Nothing that lasts more than 15 seconds. My body’s way of saying to me, “Fuck you and all your damn running!” Again more thoughts on possible bathroom usage. Legs and hips are stiff and will remain so until mile 2 is complete. I find that I am continuously flipping through my magazine looking for something pretty and distracting (articles about shoes are the best). I must keep the red flashing numbers covered at all times, or I will watch them with the fever of watching paint dry.

Stage 3 – My profuse sweating is making my hair stick to my head and my shirt to my body. I look around for one other woman who is by chance as sweaty as I. A sister or a comrade in our sweat-dom. No such luck. My looks around the gym have caught the attention of the older woman in perfecting matching track suit sweat band combo. The look of utter disgust on her face as she sees my sweaty appearance is enough – apparently her gym clothes are not meant to be sweated in. I then start to visualize that I am running in NYC on marathon day. I am running through the barrows so excited and pumped. This little dream last about 5 minutes, before it feels stale. I check my running posture and the time. I still have approximately 30 more minutes ahead of me. I flick through the songs on my IPod and find that song. You know that song that back in the day you would dance to in the clubs with your girlfriends using your sexiest moves. The same song that if anyone you knew today heard you listen to, would mock you endlessly for having it on your play list.

Stage 4 – Make your self utterly deaf and do not make eye contact. A fellow gym member has decided to take up residence on the treadmill next to me. They causally glance at me and start their run. They are running faster than me, but that is fine. I have a distance race ahead of me, not a speed race. For some reason they pound their treadmill like a drum and the beat of their foot strike is utterly distracting. I turn up the IPod. It appears that the fellow runner has drunk a tall glass of milk. I assume this because they are now coughing and hacking something fierce. I continue my run hoping that they will finish soon and leave me in peace. What’s this? The runner has a friend! Great! Fantastic! Now he and his buddy (obliviously a milk lover as well) are loudly chatting, hacking, coughing and pounding the treadmill as if was pizza dough. Better yet, new runner has decided to wear lots of cologne. Its times like these that I wished I had a terrible case of gas. I get them. And they are the stuff of legend. But no, I can even muster up a burp at the moment, let alone a toxic gas event. I use my frustration to power me through my last 1 mile.

Stage 5 – Cool down: Total time on the treadmill 60 minutes. Now I have a cool down of 10 minutes. The guys have left their treadmills after their 15 minute runs. Too bad, I really wanted to know how the Blazers were going to make it to the final four this year. As my sense of smell starts too slowly return to normal – who still wears, no make that bathes in Drakkar anymore? Really! I realize that I am starving and think of dinner. Mmmm, I do love me some din din.

And that my friend, is what I think about when I am on the treadmill. No, I am not smashing atoms. It’s boring and repetitive. But you try doing complex thought on the treadmill. I have tried to do simple math and you would think I am trying to calculate the amortization schedule of my loans. That is how Chris end’s up falling off the treadmill (twice). No thank you.