The Treadmill won't work if you just sleep next to it!

Haven’t we all done it at least once?  Haven’t we all been tempted at some point in our lives to buy a piece of exercise equipment in a desperate bid to get fit?     Well, I am no exception. I am now the owner of a glorious treadmill that stands proudly beside my bed like a sentry on duty. 

I have tried the gym, but I’m not a fan.  I’m not even a fan of exercise.  I really wish I was.  I wish I liked it even a teeny little bit!  I’m so envious of those people who exercise with passion and fervour and actually enjoy it.  And then there are those even more amazing self-disciplined people who don’t particularly enjoy exercising but do it anyway!  These people think nothing of pounding the treadmill for at least an hour at a time and easily clock up 50k a week.   For my shame, my entire family seems to fit somewhere into these two categories, all of whom think nothing to running the Great North Run every year, and do so seemingly effortlessly. 

Well, determined not to be the family laggard, the order for my treadmill was placed.  Bursting with enthusiasm and, like the road to hell - brimful of good intentions, I awaited its arrival with eager anticipation.  I even dashed out and bought the ‘gear’ which I’ve since decided is far too nice to get all sweaty in, so I keep that for when I’m not exercising!

My confidence did not diminish on its arrival.  I started slowly – walking not running, building up nicely to 3k, then 4k, maybe pushing myself to 5k on the odd occasion.  As a result of all this I would float around the house for the rest of the day basking in the reflective glow from my halo, dreaming of the odd half marathon that would soon be within reach...

Then I’m not quite sure what happened.  

Whilst my treadmill is not yet masquerading as a clothes horse buried beneath hordes of dressing gowns, neither is it as busy as it once was.   Nigel, who has a habit of being annoyingly right, finally said, “The treadmill won’t work if you just sleep next to it you know!”

In a very short time this inanimate object has developed some rather disturbing characteristics.  As the first thing I see when I open my eyes every morning it greets me like an eager little puppy and pleads, “Are we going for a walk today...?”   I have developed many excuses for not going for that walk, all of them feeble and pathetic.  Whilst I pretend to look busy and grapple with my conscience it begins to look less like that cute little puppy and more like an admonishing headmaster shaking his head in disgust.  I swear I can hear it tutting!

I seem to have brought the personification of ‘guilt’ into our home and now spend my days trying to justify myself! 

Don’t get me wrong, we’re still friends.  I haven’t given up on it yet.  Maybe our relationship would improve if I were to give it a name?   Make it a bit more of a friend?  How about Trevor?  

Trevor the Treadmill .... well, it has a certain ring to it!