Treadmills Don't Go Anywhere

In cardiac rehab, I hated treadmills, one of the exercise stations the nurses at Potomac Hospital in Northern Virginia dutifully put us through every session. It got to the point that I would sweet-talk my favorite nurse into giving me more time on a stationary bike (which I like) and less on the treadmill.

It is not so easy to jump off the treadmill of life. Last week, I was wide awake at 3 a.m. almost every night thinking about deadlines (one just met for a complicated article, the other suddenly imposed for selecting a new retiree health-insurance plan following a corporate buy-out). But isn't life like that, always dictated by deadlines? Thinking about buying a car? Got to make a decision now, leasing or buying, or the deal will be gone. Got to refill those prescriptions, get to the store before it closes, and of course get the taxes done before April 15. Sometimes you feel like asserting, "Not so fast!"

Maybe the answer to deadlines is a time-out, or a period of meditation, or a nice leisurely trek in the countryside. Maybe just playing with the grandkids or dogs. 

I still don't like treadmills. I'll take the bike anytime, even the one that doesn't move.

© Robert G. Holland 2013