TREADMILL NIRVANA (Jan 11, 2005)
I'm going to try to attempt to put in words what Treadmill Nirvana feels like. I start out fully aware of my surroundings, people talking, machines pounding in asynchronous rythms, music in the background, 6 tvs on the wall in front of me, mostly tuned to news channels. I set my course to manual, enter my time and weight and off I go. At first I am aware of the sound of my feet pounding the tread, I adjust my posture, get my headphones chord situated. Soon I realize I'm thoroghly enjoying myself. My shoulders are back, chest high, abs tight. TIGHT! My legs feel like well oiled machines doing their thing without any input from me. They just move. The movement is fluid and free and effortless. I feel invinsible, I could do this forever. I have no cares no worries. I am not aware of anything in my life for this moment. No stresses, no anger, frustration. NOTHING! I'm no longer aware of the room, the people, tvs, sounds. My eyes are fixed on a little spec on the green floor. They've been parked there for 10, 15, 20 minutes. Who knows. Who cares. In my peripheral vision I can see green sneakers cycling. They are lime green. That makes me smile. I suppose they are attached to a person, it is of little consequence to me. The music in my headphones is the only thing my mind registers. It is fantastic. I don't remember it sounding so good before. Every song pumps me up more than the one before. SOmeone walks between me and my spec and I am jolted back to reality for a minute. Darn! All of the sudden I realize I am getting tired and I am tempted to look at the time. No don't look yet! Make it last alittle longer before you start the "30 second mind games". Alas, I've come to the 30 second mind games. I don't exactly know what it is I bargain, but somehow I bargain to make it another 30 seconds. I glimpse at the time again, phew, made it! 30 seconds more... until the machine kicks into cool down.
That is Treadmill Nirvana. That is what keeps me coming back when the workouts are blah and every ounce of my being screams, "I don't want to workout today".