Moms RUN San Jose

For Moms who run, by Moms who run…Moms RUN this Town!

The Treadmill – A Love/Hate Relationship

on December 10, 2012

Did you notice how I left you kinda hanging at the end of that last post?  That’s because my mom always told me, “If you have nothing nice to say, then don’t say anything at all!”

It’s not that I don’t have any nice things to say about running on the treadmill. I do. It’s just that there isn’t much for me to say.

[I have would included a picture of a treadmill here,

but I couldn’t find one that I liked.]

When I first started running it was on a treadmill at a local gym…because I was too embarrassed to be seen running outdoors. And by running I mean, walking really fast and then stopping to catch my breath.  I remember having a tape of military cadences that I would listen to on my walkman and trying to match my stride to the beat. It was inspiring to think that other people – in my mind, strong, determined soldiers – would run miles hearing these cadences. I would pretend that I was one of them instead of an overweight newlywed.

Eventually, I did transition to running outdoors and fell in love with the feel of air on my skin, the smell of grass and cows, the sight of the blue sky playing peekaboo between branches of tall trees, and hearing my footsteps thud against hard packed earth.

Even though, sometimes, the “scenery” at the gym can be good to look at, the smells, the heat, the sounds (you know what I mean!), the monotony of running on the treadmill, just doesn’t do it for me anymore.

I do still run on the treadmill but only under certain circumstances:

  1. I have to be at the gym to do another type of work out (like weights or a group class like yoga).
  2. I am not familiar enough (or comfortable enough) with an area to run outside by myself.

Notice how bad weather isn’t one of those circumstances?

I am in awe of people who can run mile after mile, hour after hour on a treadmill. Secrets of a Running Mom blogged about another mom, Kathy Sebright who ran for eight (8!!) hours on a treadmill while her son was having brain surgery.  That is strength and determination personified.

As a runner who became a mother, I’ve learned, you don’t really need some drill sergeant yelling at you to get you moving one foot in front of the other.  We find our inspiration and motivation from the parts of our lives that matter.




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