Brand new fancy-schmancy NordicTrack C2155 treadmill down in the basement.
When I drove home from work today, the car thermometer showed 18 degrees. The stiff wind out of the northwest was strong enough to make the flag by the Knights of Columbus bingo hall stand straight out. So when I walked through the door and Tom told me that the new treadmill had been delivered, I decided to try it out.
Instead of bundling up and enjoying the sights of nature through the half-inch slit between my stocking cap and scarf, I watched “Cash Cab” on the Discovery Channel. And instead of inhaling the fresh, icy air of a late Minnesota afternoon, I inhaled the slightly stale air in the basement, punctuated with the aroma of the cat litter boxes in the laundry room. It took me a while to figure out all the buttons and digital read-outs; but the belt went around smoothly and the little fan blew an enthusiastic breeze on my sweaty brow.
I still plan to walk outside whenever I can. After all, we want to make this treadmill last as long as humanly possible. But the main reason I need to walk outside is the endorphin factor. I believe wholeheartedly in the theory that exercise produces endorphins, which create a sense of positive well being. However, for some reason, treadmills don’t bring out the endorphins in me. I can walk two to four miles on that treadmill, and all I feel is kind of sweaty. But when I walk the two to four miles outside, I feel downright happy. Endorphins are nature’s way of saying, “Now isn’t this fun?”
So God bless the fancy new treadmill—it will save me from frostbite and fractured hips on those bitterly cold days when the paths are too treacherous to navigate safely. But I look forward to any days I can be outside walking, radiating my sparkly endorphins all along the trail.