Witz Pickz: Standard Treadmill Procedure

I still can't feel my finger tip. For those of you keeping track at home, that's 4.5 days. Let the betting begin.

In other news, I was privy to the most frustratingly annoying thing ever at the gym. At my gym, there are about 10-15 treadmills and inevitably, if you go at any regular time, there's a line for those treadmills. The line usually isn't very bad, maybe 10-20 minutes at the absolute worst time, and most of the time it's in the 5 minute range. The other day, I managed to hit that anomaly time when EVERYONE running seemed to have started right before I got there, so nobody was finishing up. Except for one kid. While I stood next in line, waiting for a treadmill and watching the minutes pass, a skinny kid walked excrutiatingly slowly on a treadmill a few feet away. How slowly? Well, when I looked at his speed, it said ".5," which is approximately the speed at which turtles move WHILE SLEEPING, and coincidently, the speed at which my brain starts to slowly set itself on fire with rage. And he wasn't even reading a book or watching television.

I tried to come up with a reasonable explanation for why this person was "exercising" so minimally with so many other people around him. "Maybe he JUST bought some new shoes and is trying to break them in RIGHT BEFORE a really important interview or meeting that he can't be sweaty for." That seemed reasonable, but implausible, because he was running in sneakers (we'll talk about how some geographic regions of the country call them tennis shoes another day). My next thought was that maybe he was in some kind of a "Speed," scenario, wherein he was not allowed to stop moving, but had to be in constant motion or else a bomb strapped to family would explode. If that were the case, I would think he'd want to be out on a street so he could at least walk towards or near options of strategic use, or at least get some fresh air. I mean, regardless of your dire circumstances, it's kind of douchey to take up a treadmill for that long at a gym. It's called sharing.

My next two thoughts were long shots (not like those first two), but like to think they show significant thought and knowledge. "Maybe he's a Lost Boy of Sudan, and is reliving the tragic and seemingly impossible journey he took to refuge." I wanted this to be true, because of my previously mentioned secret desire to show Lost Boys how to use everyday appliances and technology here in the States, but I knew it wasn't true, for the same reason that I knew it wasn't, "Maybe his ancestor was on the Trail of Tears and he is taking that journey in his mind's eye." This would have been great and acceptable, only he was the wrong kind of Indian. It was far more likely that he was recreating his cousin's walk to the HP Tech Support Center in Bangalore. He looked like what one of the slave children in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom would have looked like during their awkward teen years...

Out of ideas, I simply stared, shocked, baffled, and severely pained by the event I was witnessing. Every few minutes or so, another calorie probably ticked off on the machine, and I started to wonder if this guy ever did anything else, or if he simply loped all day on a treadmill, maybe calling in stock deals every few hours, and then had a sandwhich delivered to him mid-stride. And it was right at that point when my migraine of frustration reached its peak, and my brain started plotting ways to kill a man without having 40 people around him notice-- when I honestly thought, "He may never leave that treadmill again,"-- that he simply stepped off and left. Like PEACED. One minute he was on the treadmill, the next minute he was off it and out the door.

I walked over to the machine, and stood standing there like an idiot, waiting for the machine to stop. It took me a few long moments to realize that the machine was STILL ON. He never actually turned it off-- that's how slowly it was going. It was impossible to tell if the machine was winding down to zero or if it was actually just moving at speeds that glaciers would mock. I looked back at the other people behind me for support and gave them the, "What the hell is going on, am I supposed to go on here or is he still using it," face, which actually probably came off more like, "I wanna get on this treadmill now, but really have to pee." Either way, I got a few looks of support and a few looks of consternation, so I turned off the treadmill and stepped on for my long-awaited run.

The problem with waiting 20 minutes for a treadmill is that you have to make it count when you get one. So even though I should have been relieved, I suddenly realized that I was in for a long trip myself. I immediately wished I had a sharpee so I could write "Championship Runner" on my t-shirt, so the next guy staring and loathing me from the sidelines would at least think that I was in training and not just a guy who really likes pizza and socially acceptable physical appearances. Oh well.

If I Could Run My Legs the Way I Run My Mouth, I'd Look Anorexic,
Witz

BRILLIANT QUOTE:
"I wish I lived in Ethiopia-- everyone there is SO SKINNY!" -Girl in my High School...

Witz DOESN'T Pick: Running In Place (Not A Metaphor)

They say some things get easier with age. Childhood drama, homesickness, the ability to purchase alcohol...-- but this is certainly not the case with running in place. When I was little, running in place was one of the worst things I remember having to do. You look goofy, you don't feel like you're getting any results from your efforts, and it's also harder than it looks. And yet every year in gym class in elementary school, they made us run in place all lined up so we could see each other. Maybe some people enjoyed running in place because they weren't good at running places, but I haven't met them yet.

So the other day, I had too much energy after being sick for the last week and knew I had to do something to burn off some energy and get my blood flowing a little-- maybe jump start my immune system with some movement. I did a few quick pushups, but that wasn't enough. I lifted some free weights, but again, not enough overall movement. So what did i decide to do? I busted out RUNNING IN PLACE. I got my light jog on in front of the tv and then took the party to the bathroom to see what I actually looked like. Lemme tell you something-- RUNNING IN PLACE has not gotten any easier nor any more attractive with age. In fact, I have only gotten worse at it and look all the more goofy for that fact.

And why should I be surprised? I mean, if I wasn't good at running in place in sixth grade, why would I be any better at it fourteen years later?? Why would I look any less goofy, as I stumble over my own feet, not knowing whether to kick my feet out forward or sideways or backwards, the arm movement the only real decent looking part of the picture. I mean, the body was not meant to run in place. The purpose of the movements in running or jogging or walking are to PROPEL ONE FORWARD. Running in place is counter-intuitive and anti-homosapien. I bet it might even be un-American. Progress-- moving forward-- that's America's way. Do you know why there's no such thing as "walking in place?" Because it is virtually impossible to do. Try it. I dare you. Stand up and walk in place-- nono, don't worry about open spaces, you shouldn't be going anywhere-- just, you know, walk in place. Try and mimic your WALKING movements without actually leaving one space and entering another. Just try it. Lemme know when that works out for ya.

You want to know the number one piece of proof I have that running, jogging, or walking in place is not meant to be and that people around the world despise is? Treadmills. Yeah, treadmills. If people were so keen on maintaining their own pace in one spot, why would so many people demand a machine to move the earth below them? Why would anybody need the rest of the land to move below them so they could remain in one place while running or jogging or walking? That shit's rhetorical. That's how strong my case is.

Settling for what you get in life might improve with age. Deciding to have kids instead of pursuing your own dreams might become a reality. Learning to put others before yourself and sacrificing might become something you do more of. But running in place will not get any easier with age. And you won't look any better doing it. Trust me.

Goofy + Stationary = High Comedy,
Witz