Burning Rubber

With a stubborn Halfer’s resolve and a lump the size of a cantaloupe in my throat I set off to conquer my Waterloo – the treadmill. A more soulless (and pointless) invention I have yet to come across.  Still, if I couldn’t best it the Half would be out of the question, and so I clambered on.

I set off burning rubber (at my weight, there’s even a little smoke) at a grand speed of 8Ks and quickly dialed it up to 11. It took a while to get into my “runner’s rhythm” but just as I started to get cocky, the wheels fell off. At the 12 min mark, my calf muscles began to lock and I went from a steady stride to a hobble in the span of a few minutes, and I climbed off the horse.

Yesterday I played squash with Kunz to test out my gimpy legs, and it reconfirmed my weak state, post the treadmill debacle. IT confirmed my biggest fears - these legs weren’t built to run, they were built to lumber into the kitchen and grab a quick bite.