Shaking Things Up

I've been a treadmill user for over ten years.

Up until last Fall, I was strictly a treadmill walker.

As in walk, don't run.

Run? Fuhgeddaboudit.

I don't want to get sweaty, thank you.

The only two reasons that could possibly make this body run were going to something awesome, like a giant sale at Old Navy. Or from something scary, like zombies.

I still don't know what got into me, but one day I decided to run for a bit on the treadmill.

Know what? I liked it.

Kinda.

I liked the big calorie burn and that made me decide that I could live with running.

On the treadmill. In my basement. With a TV hooked up to a satellite dish.


The best thing about running on a treadmill in my basement is the TV. I can watch Regis and Kelly. Or I can watch old reruns of Cheers. Or, with picture in picture, I can watch both.

That, my friends, is what Hannah Montana calls the best of both worlds.

Sometimes, not very often, but sometimes, I'm not feeling very TV-ish and I listen to really cheesy music on my iPod and sing along.

Loudly and completely off key, of course.

You're shocked, aren't you?

However, the last couple of weeks, neither watching TV nor listening to my treadmill playlist had any appeal. So, earlier this week I decided to shake things up a bit and run outside.

Like, outside outside. With the birds and the trees and stuff. All up in nature's business.

Know what? It wasn't that heinous of an experience. In fact, it was kind of enjoyable.

Up until the dead squirrel carcass.

That was a total buzz kill, but I'd like to think the squirrel was the reason for the buzzards circling over my head.

It's better than thinking I was moving so slowly that I looked like I was dead.

And that I smelled as bad as and could therefore be confused with a bloated squirrel carcass lying on the pavement in the hot July sun.

Buzzards and deceased squirrels aside, running outside was okay.

I've done it a few more times this week and it got a little better each time.

Translation #1: no more buzzards circled above my head.

Translation #2: no more bereft from life squirrel bodies.

Translation #3: no more complaints from the rest of my family about my off key singing of vintage Bon Jovi songs at top volume.

I just might be on my way to becoming a fan of running outside.

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