So, with only three months to go until the Boston Marathon, I need to start putting some serious mileage on the ol’ pedometer. However, the cruel forces of nature are not making my
altruistic pursuits easy. Now, believe me when I say I want to run outside (as much as I “want” to run anywhere). The Charles River is frozen and the geese like to take flying dives and slide across the ice, like they are children playing. The snow is blown into the sky, reflecting the sun like a thousand tiny diamonds floating around your face. And the city sparkles against a clear, blue sky. Surely, one would think, running in such a place would be inspiring, nay, life-changing.
That would be if this winter fairy land weren’t 10 degrees and falling. Tiny diamonds floating around your face might sound enchanting, but the allure fades when you realize that they are not in fact gems, but instead millions of demon-possessed knives bent on your utter destruction.
So, my other option then is to run on a treadmill. I find this utterly depressing, no matter what I
think about when I’m on the thing. I mean, you think you’ve made your way up the evolutionary scale. You think you’ve mastered tools, have a pretty good handle on language and have even negotiated the strangeness that is the opposable thumb. But then you realize that modern culture have made these advances mere trappings and vanities, because to “keep fit” you must become a hamster in an exercise ball. I feel that when I am on a treadmill, I am not pursuing an end to cancer; I am in fact a small, expendable animal who must keep the belt moving for my life to have meaning. And while I’m on my belt, the scenery never changes. Oh sure, there are televisions. But somehow I am not comforted by Nora Ephron movies. In fact, I think they worsen the situation. Just as Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan realize they are Meant To Be, my inner dialogue screams, “Vanity, Vanity, all is vanity!”
Anywho, the point is that running outside is better. However, when faced with the choice between hypothermia and an existential crisis, I am afraid I will have to go with the latter. Because a hamster on a belt is still (most likely) a hamster with a nose that has not frozen off.
So I’m off to the gym. *sigh*
Because it’s for a good cause.
« ...That's All There Is!
