Monday, February 13, 2012

In the Long Run: Treadmills are Stupid.

This is the second installment between Triple T and myself documenting our Long Runs.
How I imagine I look at the gym.
The victim this week? Treadmills.

Treadmills are like Tim Tebow: Some love them, some hate them, and others are completely indifferent and wish everyone else would shut the fuck up.

While not in love with them, I'm familiar enough with the ones at my local gym that I have given them all names. (If you haven't guessed already, I probably need some help.)

With the weather being shitty, and it being well-documented that I'm a child-like whiner when it comes to being cold, my long run this week was done indoors while the wind and rain pummeled outside. Believe me, when I read about the weather Triple T runs in, I feel like I should turn in my man-card, throw my shoes into the river, and take up competitive donut eating full time.

But I digress.

We had a beautiful sunny day earlier this week, and I was able to corral the Boys onto their bikes while I hit the track. Much to my surprise, I blasted through 12 laps (3 miles) in just over 21 minutes. Feeling buoyed by this accomplishment, I wasn't disappointed by having to do my 7-mile run indoors when, in normal British Columbia fashion, outside went from sunny to fucking horrid in record time. Heck, I even figured I'd do a couple of extra miles just because it would be fun.

God, I'm a retard sometimes.

When I hit the gym, I was crushed to see that my usual treadmill (referred to in a previous post as "My Baby") was occupied - and by a walker, no less. I resigned myself to jumping on The Mistress (get your head out of the gutter - not as exciting as you'd think). As I was tying my shoes, He-Who-Walks-At-Gym decided he'd had enough of his blistering 3.2Mph pace and gave up the treadmill I wanted.

(Okay, treadmill haters, I can hear you saying "When's the last time you had to wait for someone to get off the road, huh?" - point taken.)

I jumped on and started getting into the Zone.

Of all the Long Runs I've ever done on a treadmill (the longest was 16 miles), the Zone is essential to prevent losing your mind to inescapable boredom - looking at the ass of the guy on the stairclimber in front of me isn't as fun as you may think.

The Zone wouldn't come.

For some reason, the minute I got just over a mile in, I became The Most Popular Guy In The Gym. For the next half hour, people I know kept coming in, stopping by, saying hi, and asking questions. When you're running outside, if someone wants to talk to you they either have to forcibly stop you or try and keep up. At the gym, every single lazy asshole who wants to say their two cents strolls by, leans on the machine and starts to espouse their worldview.

The good part was that it did take my mind off the clock and keep me distracted enough - not Zone levels, but close - they probably inadvertently helped my pace, as it was like I was running faster to try and get away from them.

Once I was left alone, the rest of the run proceeded smoothly. When you hit that moment on the treadmill when the right music is playing (Kings of Leon), you're running the right pace (7.2mph), and the finest set of back-dimples in the gym gets on the stairclimber in front of you, time just seems to fly by.

The endorphins were just from the run - that's what I'm going to keep telling myself.

Next week's Long Run is scheduled to be a 10-miler - my first double-digit run of this training program. I'm hoping that I won't have to do it on the treadmill, but if those conditions can come together again (minus the chatterboxes), it won't be too bad.

Check out how Triple T did with her battle against the machine here.



  1. OMG ... people talking to you at the gym? I'd be throwing punches.

    When I was in the pool with more regularity last season, there'd be a bunch of talkers. And they'd always screw up my lap count.

    No talking at the gym! It's adult quiet time!

  2. Gym Talkers rank right up there with walkers on the list of First-To-Go-Up-Against-The-Wall-When-The-Revolution-Comes.

  3. Once... and I believe it was last year, about this time and I may have even blogged about it, I was running around the track and sobbing. I mean, chest heaving, snot running down my nose sobbing and this older man stopped me to ask me what my tattoo said.

    SERIOUSLY???? How clueless was he? "Boy, that woman is really losing her shit. I think I'll distract her by making her explain what her tattoo says, why she chose those words and if she's ever regretted it."

    I should run with a gun.

    1. You're in Chicago - aren't you already running with a gun?