Every morning, Stevie Wonder climbs on the treadmill, opens the blinds on the window, and kicks the treadmill into a steady speed. For thirty minutes he gazes out the window, and his brain goes into another dimension.
My routine is a bit more complicated. I am a fussier athlete. In order to get on the treadmill I require:
1. girly shoes (with pink accents)
2. music (not just any music, but rock music)
3. new spandex exercise capris with rhinestones on them
4. a timer (I don't want to spend one more second than I have to on Tessie)
5. a sweatband to match my spandex exercise tights (a girl can't have too much bling)
So every morning, while I prepare, Stevie Wonder climbs on, does his thirty minutes in silence, and climbs off a healthier person, basted in his own juices.
Then I get on, scan my music and decide which songs to play in which order. It makes a big difference, because if I start out with the fastest song (like the one I shared here) I won't last more than 30 seconds.
Next, I adjust the speed on the treadmill to the slowest possible slug-crawling-speed and start. When I started I lasted 3 minutes. And that is stretching it. I wasn't icky sweaty, but I did sport a nice glow.
This morning I climbed on. I am too bored to just walk, so I kind of dance around on the treadmill, as I gaze out the window. This morning as I danced gracefully around the treadmill, I decided to kick the speed up a notch. I was feeling great, and thought I was ready for the next level of competition.
As I twirled my hands around and rocked out on the treadmill, I got my left hand caught in the ear bud cord on my iPhone, and accidentally jerked it off and sent it flying off behind me on the treadmill. I panicked, afraid I had destroyed the iPhone, and turned around to look behind me to make sure it survived the fall. I forgot I was still moving on the treadmill...but Tessie didn't. She promptly threw my ass off the back of the treadmill, and I landed on top of my precious iPhone.
I grabbed the iPhone, dusted the bunnies off my butt (they tend to hide under the treadmill), and climbed back on like a determined bull rider.
Ten minutes and two songs later, I climbed off. OK, so I counted the three minutes it took me to pick myself up off the floor as part of that time. I figure as long as I was moving, time was clicking. I was so proud I hollered out my time to Stevie Wonder.
Steve came into the room, climbed on Tessie silently, and did 35 minutes.
I hate him.
~cath
Twitter @jonesbabie