Why I despise the dreadmill

I really wanted to stick to my training plan and go for a run today. Considering my dismal performance on January 1st and the fact that the tag was still on my sneaker from the Turkey Trot (read: Thanksgiving Day), I really need to get back into the swing of things. Well, I would have gone for a run but with the windchill it currently feels like one degree out. Below zero. I figured I could suck it up and bang out three miles no problem on the dreadmill. Well there is a huge problem; I hate the treadmill with a fiery passion and have little to no willpower. I psyched myself up, drank some water, put on those black spandex from high school cheerleading that I still wonder why I kept, and made my way to the dreaded beast. Always Sunny was on so I took that as a great omen and started my warm up. Hey, 0.54 miles and I have had enough. So much for running today. I did jump around the kitchen while waiting for water to boil so that has to count for something, right?

I'm eating a giant bowl of pasta right now. Oh yeah, I went there. I'll probably have seconds. In my mind I am carbo loading for that run that I probably won't take tomorrow while mentally freaking out that I signed up to run a half marathon in less than two months and have plane tickets and condo reservations and very little training done.

Back to the dreadmill, I have always had a love/hate relationship with exercise to begin with. Growing up I danced 5 days away, was a competitive gymnast, and a cheerleader. Those were fun activities I got to bop around and yell and point my toes and not wear real shoes half the time. Due to chronic knee injuries I was advised by my orthopedist to refrain from running as to "save my knees" for other activities (he also deemed cheerleading "not a real sport" and refused to brace my sprained thumb and instead tore more fibers when he ace bandaged it to my hand because he wouldn't listen to me). During the off season in high school I would walk on an incline sparingly, if at all, and usually while doing something else completely unrelated. Like the time I ate an ice cream sundae while walking on the treadmill. In college I would go to the gym and walk on an incline while my roommate ran her little heart out; it wasn't until grad school that I signed up for my first 5k and started s l o w l y jogging around the Charles. My first 5k was in October of 2009 and since then I have ran, and trained for, 5ks and 10ks-all outside.

In sum, the treadmill is boring, watching television while running hurts my head, I like being outside, and I am easily bored. Being outside allows for spying into other's homes, "sleeping" animal dodging, and getting honked at by numerous males that you do not know.

Happy, Happy 2012!