Dear Treddy,
It’s been a long time since we’ve been together. We had such fabulous times together last winter when it was so icy and cold out all the time. You accepted me from the moment I walked in the gym doors. You wrapped your warmth around me and pushed me, pushed me hard. I have never felt like that with anyone before. YOU helped me reach my goals of a 1:50 half marathon, a 12 minute PR. I felt like you were the only one that understood me.
You get such a bad rap, and I stuck up for YOU. I told all of my friends that they NEEDED to be with you. I told them that they shouldn’t call you a “dreadmill”, “hamster wheel”, or even “Satan’s sidewalk” as I heard you referred to today over on Heather’s blog. I told them that you would give them what they needed. I gave them a list of reasons why they should be nice to you:
- You let us pick out any show or movie that want to watch. You let the moms who only get to watch Disney watch an adult show! Netflix, Amazon, ITunes, you don’t discriminate! You let us be treadmill potatoes instead of couch potatoes!
- You let us run FAST. And you push us to run fast. When we set our goal pace you don’t let us quit, you make us keep pushing instead of letting us slack off.
- You keep us warm and let us wear shorts or running skirts in the winter instead of bundling up and getting icycyles on our cute ponytails or eyelashes and you keep us free from frostbite.
- You let us run next to a bathroom the entire time we are running. We don’t have to worry about those inopportune trips to the bathroom because you are within throwing distance to the potty.
- You let us run with our friends. We can run with running buddies at many different speeds and levels and feel like we are on the same playing field because we get to run together.
But let’s get down to brass tax now. You have led me astray this time around. I am loathing you right now. I’m starting to buy into the definition of a treadmill:
Treadmill (n).
“A primitive torture device first imagined by medieval jailers and perfected in the late 20th century, designed to destroy one’s mind through sensory deprivation and monotony.”–Mark Remy, The Runner’s Rule Book
I don’t want to believe this, I know we can be happy again together some day. Please, please come back to me. I miss you and I want to enjoy our time together again. That is all.
Sincerely,
A mama that is resorting to cupcakes because she is depressed over our breakup
Reposted with permission from This Mama Runs For Cupcakes