This is a significant symbolic event, but not really huge in terms of my day-to-day life. And to be completely honest, I did it partly so I can afford an elliptical after I move. Due to years of pounding abuse on my joints, my knees gave out at the ripe old age of 20, ending my career as a compulsive runner. I then had to switch to the stationary bike, and I hadn't used the treadmill in over a year.
It is strange to have it gone, though. We'd been through a lot together. Back in high school, I earned minimum wage (back when it was only $5.15 an hour, boy am I old!) cleaning cages at a vet's office, and had saved all of my nickels and dimes for a very long time so that I could buy it, freeing me from sharing the ones at the local YMCA with sweaty old men (my podunk town didn't have a real gym).
I purchased it my junior year, much to my parents' surprise and dismay when the delivery truck showed up in the driveway. I figured it was one of those situations where it was better to ask forgiveness than permission. I'm not sure if they were more shocked at the treadmill or that I had the guts to go behind their back and do that, because usually I was pretty quiet and compliant for a kid. Anorexia kept me out of trouble, I guess. But the audacity of an ED knows no bounds, so I didn't let their treadmill-induced fury faze me, and it blew over fairly quickly.
Funny-ish story* (remember when this happened, Tiptoe?): As you might have expected, I was/am/probably always will be a creature of habit. In high school, you could set your watch by me showing up at the YMCA after school, pounding out my miles, then zipping home so that I would arrive before my mom, so that she wouldn't see me coming home sweaty and in gym clothes. On her days off, I gave myself time to change and cool off, then made up an excuse for why I it took me over an hour to get home after school let out.**
Thus, I was part of the landscape in the cardio room in the afternoons. Once I had my own treadmill, though, I could go straight home to run. Bye-bye, salty smelling hallways and steaming carpets, sayonara to streaky wall mirrors and TVs that seemed stuck on Fox News and the Montel Williams Show.
On the third day of my new home-gym routine, I had just finished on the treadmill when we (myself and my two younger brothers, then ages 10 and 7) heard a heavy knock on the door. A big, beefy police officer had appeared on our porch and was looking suspiciously at the window blinds, which were twitching and jumping as my brothers crawled all over each other to peer out.
Mr. Cop said he had been called to come by for a "welfare check." Apparently the YMCA people had gotten concerned when I didn't show up for several days in a row, and called the police to check and make sure nothing had happened to me. He asked my name, where my parents were, etc. I explained to him that I had my own treadmill now, which was why I had changed my routine, and he accepted that and left without giving us any problem.
So, it was rather anticlimactic, except that it was a small town and of course soon everyone knew that the cops had come over to do a welfare check, which mortified my mom. She called the YMCA and threw and absolute (and probably justified) fit at them for not at least trying to contact her to check on me, instead of going straight to the police.
So, that was one rather random story relating to the treadmill. Which is now gone. I do miss running, no amount of pedaling or elliptical-ing can substitute for the rush I got from it. I would like to repair both my body and my behaviors enough to be able to run again in the future, we'll just have to see. I will definitely never get another treadmill, though, I think that is partly to blame for my knees. I have long legs, and Ihave to switch to an unnatural stride on the machine. Why not run outside? Because then I wouldn't have my LED layout of numbers, distances, speeds, etc etc . . . EDs love nothing more than quantification.
So long, treadmill, I hope there are many happy miles ahead for both of us, but in different directions.
*Not really funny as in ha-ha smile and laugh, but funny as in wow aren't people ridiculous sometimes.
**I don't know why I even tried with this charade, because she knew I exercised after school. It was a small town, and I knew she or someone she knew could (and probably did) easily check to see if my car was at the YMCA.
5 comments:
Wow, that is a pretty funny story about the treadmill. The YMCA must have known you all too well! Even if you weren't using it much as of late, it's a big deal you got rid of it. I've always thought exercise equipment is odd -- makes humans into hamsters, running but not going anywhere. That's my way of rationalizing not exercising on machines, I think. Haha. Anyway, it seems you've come a long way as far as knowing what your body can and can't handle. It's sad that it takes us so long to really respect our bodies, but when we can, it's a wonderful thing.
A friend said once about our hometown: "The thing about living in a small town is that if I don't know what I'm doing, someone else probably does."
It seems rather symbolic to be getting rid of the treadmill.
At the ripe age of 17, my knees are starting to go, too. Although I don't abuse them as much anymore, sometimes I feel like a granny trying to get up stairs.
Yes, indeed, I remember that story. It was a tad over the top, but people did worry.
It's a good thing it is gone now. Are you going to have a "no treadmill in my living quarters" celebration party? :grin:
Thanks, everyone, for helping me think about this in the right perspective. I talked to H. about this today, and I do think it's kind of symbolic of letting go of my disordered life, piece by piece.
And Tiptoe, G. is definitely enjoying the lack of treadmill in our living space! He was always wary of it, had to sniff me very thoroughly every time I got off of it to make sure I was still relatively intact. Now that it's gone, he has claimed that big chunk of floor in my office as his personal sprawl space. Despite his recent skinnyassedness, he can take up a lot of room when he tries! :)
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