The last time I got a really good sweat in was one week ago Monday, right before I kicked off my week of sluggishness.
Looking back, with the benefits of a fully rested mind and body, I am beginning to wonder if my last run may have been so traumatic that it left me a little gun shy.
On the Monday in question I headed out to the small gym at my condo complex. The gym features 3 treadmills, a stairmaster, an elliptical and a variety of weight machines, along with some free weights. Of the 3 treadmills, only 2 appear to be of the gym-quality variety. The other one looks a little flimsy, and like it was manufactured in 1942, so I never opt for it.
When I arrived, the place was empty. I jumped onto my regular treadmill and hit the Quick Start button.
The machine was ON, but it wasn’t moving. So I tried to program a run in.
Rather than futz with it forever, I gave up and jumped onto the other treadmill of the same make.
All good. Did my warm up and then settled in for a 20 minute run. Somewhere around the 12 minute mark, an old man entered the gym. There are plenty of old men there, so this wasn’t news. The residents of my condo complex tend to fall into two categories: retired couples – OR – single strippers (male and female). Of course, I’m totally guessing on category #2 – but based on their slamming bodies, and the hours they keep, I think it’s fair to assume that they work in jobs where physical appearance is important. And where the work is primarily done at night.
The old man comes in, says something (presumably good morning/afternoon). I nod in acknowledgement (earbuds in; Katy Perry telling me to Roar), and get back to my pounding.
I notice he heads to the treadmill that I had originally tried. He punches a few buttons. No dice.
He dismounts and begins poking around the front of the machine, and then starts handling power cords.
And then proceeds to unplug the cord from the wall outlet.
The cord that was powering not the sleepy treadmill but…THE ONE THAT I WAS RUNNING ON.
I wish I could tell you that I went flying off the machine. That would have made for a great blog post. Sadly, it doesn’t work that way. When a treadmill is abruptly turned off, by some geezer who pulls the plug, the belt slows down – but is still rotating based on the previous velocity.
I figured out there was an issue only when I realized my legs were getting slower and slower. DOH!
Okay, so I didn’t get hurt, or even that scared, BUT, I did lose all my workout information (distance, pace, etc.) – which, as we all know, means it didn’t happen. The run didn’t happen! Which made me want to hurt this old man. Badly.
I momentarily considered bitching him out. But then I remembered that he’s old. And probably senile. And definitely blind. So I let it go.
Yet another benefit of more regular yoga practice: the ability to fight off the urge to maim the annoying elderly. Score 1 more for yoga!