Learning to appreciate the treadmill

Maybe the machines aren't so bad, after all

As longtime readers know, I have a love/hate relationship with treadmills in that I love to hate the stupid things. Ours is a deep-seated adversarial relationship with mutual animosity going back decades. 

From my perspective, the pacing never felt right. Plus, the bounce from the belt left me preoccupied with my stride, and worried that at any moment I might get sucked into the gears and decapitate myself. (I can’t be the only one with this particular fear.) 

For its part, the treadmill probably looked at me like, Who is this dummy who doesn’t know how to run on me? A fair point, there. 

Regardless, it’s simply more fun to run outside. Give me the wonders of nature any day over a joyless room filled with a bunch of strangers huffing and puffing under fluorescent lights and blaring televisions. 

However, running in the winter can be dicey in New England, especially when you’re coming back from an injury and don’t want to risk any sudden twists or tweaks on sketchy surfaces. This past week, several inches of slushy ice on the ground forced me to come to a peace agreement with the dreadmill. 

You know what? It wasn’t so bad. In fact, running on a treadmill was, dare I say, enjoyable. Here’s how I came around.