Yesterday my treadmill died. Of course, it didn’t just die. It was murdered. Sort of. My eldest son decided to run. Now in all fairness I must explain that my treadmill had gotten temperamental. It worked for me, but had long since stopped working for Calvin. My best guess was that the motor couldn’t pull much weight any more.
When Luke asked to use the treadmill, I thought, what’s the harm? After all, if it won’t pull him and least he gave it a shot. What I didn’t count on was him forcing the treadmill. It didn’t want to be forced and decided death was preferable.
Luke had been working out at the university, and I thought he could run there. But yesterday they announced to him that he could no longer work out because he wasn’t taking summer classes. Luke explained that he was a full-time student, registered for next semester, and was in fact working as a teaching assistant in Chem Labs this summer. They didn’t care. (And for some reason alumni can use it during this gap in classes. Not sure where the logic is in this...)
For my run this morning, I had one option. Run outside. Along the evil ridge hills. Cal pointed out a run that was slightly less hilly—only four ridge hills, instead of eight. And since it’s not a circuit run, multiply it by two. Thus, it’s only eight hills. Anyway, I did it. Though I can’t imagine doing it when it’s 80 or 90 degrees instead of 65. In July if you see someone overheated and puking on the side of the road, that’ll be me. And I really miss reading a book while I run. Instead, I get to watch out for cars driving down narrow roads at ridiculous speeds. I’m beginning to feel a bit like Jonah when his vine died. But at least I’m not waiting for the Ninevites to die. Hmm. Maybe I need to change my attitude. How about: Running ridges in the heat is great. Nah. I don’t think I can ever believe that. How about: Running ridges in the heat is great because it feels so good when it’s over. Yeah. I can live with that.