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.