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This morning, I woke up in a fog – I was awake, but still in a dream that I was aboard a cruise ship (never have) and was hosting a party in my suite.  A new-found friend was offering me a rose quartz pendant so I would remember her when she was famous.  Then I was staring at my weird Southern-style bedroom ceiling (the ceiling is “sunken” with empty brown picture moldings all over the sides?WTF?) – I was actually still in my bed wrapped in my comforter.

Well off to the gym after that kind of dream.  I arrived and promptly went to “my” treadmill.  I pick the one closest to the wall.  I feel more comfortable there as I am a heavy woman and just walking getting up to a speed of 2.0 is a trial for me – all I need is someone next to me pounding away at 90 miles an hour.  The treadmill next to me is broken and has been for a long time.

I brought my Kindle with me today on my self-challenge to get up to 2.0 speed, as I am now at 1.8.  Bringing the Kindle has helped me not to concentrate on the distance and time LEDs that are constantly telling me I am slow.  The broken treadmill has a sign on it taped to the display.

As I was nearing a new chapter at 1.8 speed, a woman near my age but much slimmer approached the broken treadmill, climbed on board and proceeded to push buttons.  Conscious of anyone near me, I turned to tell her that the machine was broken.  It went like this:

“Oh, Hi!  That machine has been broken for a while.”  “It has?  I thought something was wrong.”   “Yes, it happens sometimes.”  “Thanks for letting me know.”  “No problem.  I think there is one free up the row some.”  “Sure, I’ll check it out – you come here a lot?  “I try to get here four days a week.”  “Really?  That’s more than I can manage.”  “Well, I am retired, so that makes it easy.”  “I am too!  We could meet for coffee some….”

OR THAT WAS WHAT WOULD HAVE BEEN SAID – if the woman not had little white earphones in her ears and didn’t hear me when I said the treadmill was broken.  She stood there and kept hitting the buttons.  I tried again, but she kept hitting the buttons and not moving.  Just then she turned to look at me as I mouthed the treadmill was broken.  Without removing her earplugs, she pointed to the out-of-order sign and nodded her head and went away.

Tomorrow I get to 1.9 speed and Terry Goodkind’s book will be even interesting.  The road back to being healthy is a lonely road.

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