I stare at the front of the treadmill determinedly, and move my arm to push
the button and up the pace. I feel my legs strain to catch up with the
whirling belt beneath me, and I feel the pain and allow it to drive me.
The rhythmic thud of my tightly laced trainers on the treadmills own version of a conveyor belt is beyond hypnotic, it's a noise like no other. I feel my quadriceps and calves protest, and I run more. I reach up to the keypad again, and suddenly have to concentrate on keeping up the pace at the same time. I flick the monitor for distance, and see that I've been running for just over 4 miles. I narrow my eyes. It isn't enough.
The display screen goes into random mode. I've been running for 26 minutes and twelve seconds. Not bad. Not good enough, not yet. My arms come up to my sides, as more effort is required to keep up the speed. 320 calories burned. I mentally pause.
320 calories? That's IT? That's all I've managed to achieve? How long have I been running for? I stare in disbelief at the screen, and suddenly feel my legs begin to give out beneath me. I grab hold of the handholds either side of the belt, and move my legs out to where they can stand on solid ground. My head feels... dizzy. I reach one arm up to the control panel and manage to hit stop before I stumble off of the treadmill and grab hold of the nearest training bar to hold myself up.
My heart is racing, pounding in my chest painfully, and my breathing is short and erratic. My legs feel weak, and my head is dizzy enough to fog my vision. I stare down at my shoes. It wasn't enough.
My limbs don't feel as exhausted as they should. Had I truly worked... I feel the familiar frustration building up, and I refuse to let it take over. I have more discipline than that.
/Just not enough to run further/, comments a small voice in the back of my head. 320 calories. I know that the calculator on the machine isn't accurate, and is more than likely very wrong, but only 320? I feel pathetic. /That's because you are pathetic/, I remind myself.
Suddenly, I'm very glad that there are no mirrors in the gym. I must look absolutely pathetic, bent over a support bar, breathing as though I'm at least 40lbs overweight, and unfit to go with it. My knees buckle again, and this time my arm strength isn't enough. I land on the floor with an undignified thud, and immediately lie back for minimal movement, to allow myself to breathe.
Closing my eyes to focus, I see colors of all varieties flitting across my vision. My breathing evens out, and my eyes open again. I narrow them. Something is very wrong with me. I should be so much fitter than this! My body just won't push past its limit, and my mind is too lazy to try. I sit up, violently, suddenly filled with anger at my audacity to lie on the floor and take a rest.
I look around the gymnasium, and spy a weight bench. Ignoring the growing throb against the inside of my skull, I steel my muscles for yet another harsh workout. I refuse to allow myself to leave this gym for another two hours.
The rhythmic thud of my tightly laced trainers on the treadmills own version of a conveyor belt is beyond hypnotic, it's a noise like no other. I feel my quadriceps and calves protest, and I run more. I reach up to the keypad again, and suddenly have to concentrate on keeping up the pace at the same time. I flick the monitor for distance, and see that I've been running for just over 4 miles. I narrow my eyes. It isn't enough.
The display screen goes into random mode. I've been running for 26 minutes and twelve seconds. Not bad. Not good enough, not yet. My arms come up to my sides, as more effort is required to keep up the speed. 320 calories burned. I mentally pause.
320 calories? That's IT? That's all I've managed to achieve? How long have I been running for? I stare in disbelief at the screen, and suddenly feel my legs begin to give out beneath me. I grab hold of the handholds either side of the belt, and move my legs out to where they can stand on solid ground. My head feels... dizzy. I reach one arm up to the control panel and manage to hit stop before I stumble off of the treadmill and grab hold of the nearest training bar to hold myself up.
My heart is racing, pounding in my chest painfully, and my breathing is short and erratic. My legs feel weak, and my head is dizzy enough to fog my vision. I stare down at my shoes. It wasn't enough.
My limbs don't feel as exhausted as they should. Had I truly worked... I feel the familiar frustration building up, and I refuse to let it take over. I have more discipline than that.
/Just not enough to run further/, comments a small voice in the back of my head. 320 calories. I know that the calculator on the machine isn't accurate, and is more than likely very wrong, but only 320? I feel pathetic. /That's because you are pathetic/, I remind myself.
Suddenly, I'm very glad that there are no mirrors in the gym. I must look absolutely pathetic, bent over a support bar, breathing as though I'm at least 40lbs overweight, and unfit to go with it. My knees buckle again, and this time my arm strength isn't enough. I land on the floor with an undignified thud, and immediately lie back for minimal movement, to allow myself to breathe.
Closing my eyes to focus, I see colors of all varieties flitting across my vision. My breathing evens out, and my eyes open again. I narrow them. Something is very wrong with me. I should be so much fitter than this! My body just won't push past its limit, and my mind is too lazy to try. I sit up, violently, suddenly filled with anger at my audacity to lie on the floor and take a rest.
I look around the gymnasium, and spy a weight bench. Ignoring the growing throb against the inside of my skull, I steel my muscles for yet another harsh workout. I refuse to allow myself to leave this gym for another two hours.