With only a week left of school, some would argue it’s time to crack the whip about getting into shape for swimsuit season. My friends have been hitting the gym religiously for the past month; however, I have yet to join them. They keep pestering me to come running with them, but I say I am busy. The truth is, the gym scares me. In my defense, I have a fair excuse. The last time I tried to run on the treadmill, it didn’t end too well…
My sister Lauren is a runner; she takes after my dad in that way. I, on the other hand, am not very athletic at all. In fact, I am quite clumsy at times. So when my sister asked me to go running with her over winter break, it was only natural I sent her a hesitant-yet-disbelieving glance. She just chuckled and responded, “I mean at the YMCA.” I kept up my incredulous facade as my mind flashed back to high school gym class.
“Sprint, Dobias, sprint!” Coach Moore screamed at me from across the track.
“I am coach!” was my out-of-breath response.
“Your sprint is as fast as Troeger’s casual jog, now SPRINT!” he bellowed.
Lauren snapped me out of my reverie, and I made the mistake of looking into her pleading eyes. “Okay,” I finally managed to choke out. It was only the gym, no problem. And I didn’t even have to jog, I could power-walk. Yes, I liked that. I would power-walk, I reassured myself.
I started off nice and easy, just a slow jog to warm up my senses. As I grew more comfortable on the treadmill, I gradually increased my speed. About ten minutes into the workout, my clumsiness started to break through the surface. Jogging, because I am not athletic at all, tends to make me tired. When I get tired, I get awkward and lazy. My form loosens, and before I know it, for some inexplicable reason, I flap my arms instead of keeping them tight and in rhythm.
Well, while flailing my arms, I happened to hit my ipod earphone cord, flinging my ipod to the ground next to my treadmill. I glanced around me, hoping no one else had noticed my faux pas. Luckily no one had been paying much attention to me. My sister only shook her head and laughed.
I skipped off the treadmill and retrieved my little pink ipod. Then, I put it back again and started to get back on the treadmill. I, being the harebrained person that I am, forgot to pause the treadmill. Ergo when I tried to get back on, my feet flew out from under me, my head slammed into the control panel, and I landed on the running machine. However, my misfortune did not end there. I then proceeded to attempt to regain my foothold, along with my pride. Blind-sighted by the spontaneity of the moment, I kept trying to get up, and each time I slammed right back into the running mat of the treadmill.
I finally realized that it wasn’t working, and just let myself roll off of the running machine. I lay there, stunned, because I knew that this sort of thing always seems to happen just to me. The kind gentleman next to my sister leaned over to her and asked if I was okay, reassuring her that he was a doctor. Her response was drowned out by her hysteric fits of laughter. So I ran to the locker room, completely embarrassed.
Now you understand my hesitation at returning to the gym. But as I sat there in my room while my friends went to Lily yet again, I realized that I couldn’t let the fear of humiliation keep me from working out, let alone the perfect beach body. So I decided to try again.
All went well, although I avoided the treadmill all together. I did some cardio, weights, and some abs. I think that by the time summer rolls around, I will be in top shape for my afternoons on the beach. However, I’m not sure I will ever return to that dreaded treadmill.