A very scary thing happened last night (Michael Jackson scary, not Michael Myers scary). I was overtaken with complete abandon and a stickittothemanesque attitude and said “Hey, who cares that I weigh 355 pounds! I paid for that biatch and I’m gonna use it any way I see fit.” and turned on the treadmill. After all, it’s just paperwork. Say I was a 355 pound MAN…you know those directions would never have seen the light of day and he would have hopped on that treadmill all willy nilly (pause and giggle as you imagine a 355 pound man doing ANYTHING “all willy nilly”…aaaand continue) none the wiser. He would have lost the necessary 55 pounds needed to qualify for treadmill use (faster than any female…the bastards) and he would have been damn proud of it.
Now, I by NO means broke any records. I’m not looking to break the thing…just use it. When I got the notion to throw caution to the wind I actually didn’t even expect to be able to. I expected the contraption to spew forth profanities that even the likes of Emily Rose have not encountered and send me plummeting off the back as the belt snapped and it instantly folded back up into space-saving position. I didn’t even put shoes on just knowing it would have been completely pointless because this just WASN’T going to work. Before plugging it in and turning the power on I said a quick prayer to the treadmill Gods and sacrificed Lola in hopes of appeasing them long enough to not break what I haven’t even finished paying for yet.
I stepped on ever so gingerly and listened for any bursting seems or popping springs and there was silence. I took a deep breath (hoping it would make me lighter) and moved my feet to the side rails as is recommended before starting the belt. They moved under my weight and I thought for a minute that I heard someone say “Oh good Jesus, NO!” I started the belt at 2 miles per hour so as not to test the Gods and stepped on. It stuttered at the strain of my first few steps and then slowly plugged along. I then decided I would only test it for 10 minutes and grabbed the 2 pound hand weights off the built in weight rack (I didn’t grab the 3-pounders fearing the difference of the 2 pounds could make or break this deal) to up myself to a cardio level that 2 miles per hour surely wouldn’t accomplish.
After 8 minutes the biceps started to burn and I put the weights back down. It was at this moment I wished I’d had more faith and turned the TV on before getting on. I probably would have lost track of time and gone over my allotted 10 minutes because I was actually enjoying it once the paranoia subsided. I’m sure you’re wondering what motivated me to take such a leap and the best I can surmise is that I watched Biggest Loser last night and saw more people doing what I wished I could. One couple lost a combined 55 pounds in two weeks. I ached to get on my treadmill throughout that entire show and held back. It wasn’t until 10 o’clock that I determined I was the gamblin’ kind and gave ‘er a go. I know I’ll ware the poor thing out if I go balls out on it at this weight but I don’t see any reason why I can’t continue at the pace I did last night for a longer period of time. I think tonight I’ll do 20 minutes and keep it at that for the next week or so. So, what’s my response to the 300 pound weight limit? Tread on I say…ever so lightly.
(note: No animals were harmed in the making of this blog entry. Sacrificing of dogs to Treadmill Gods simply requires dressing them in pink shirts that have rhinestones spelling Diva Dog on the back and locking them in their kennels…which, to her, is a fate worse than death.)
Now, I by NO means broke any records. I’m not looking to break the thing…just use it. When I got the notion to throw caution to the wind I actually didn’t even expect to be able to. I expected the contraption to spew forth profanities that even the likes of Emily Rose have not encountered and send me plummeting off the back as the belt snapped and it instantly folded back up into space-saving position. I didn’t even put shoes on just knowing it would have been completely pointless because this just WASN’T going to work. Before plugging it in and turning the power on I said a quick prayer to the treadmill Gods and sacrificed Lola in hopes of appeasing them long enough to not break what I haven’t even finished paying for yet.
I stepped on ever so gingerly and listened for any bursting seems or popping springs and there was silence. I took a deep breath (hoping it would make me lighter) and moved my feet to the side rails as is recommended before starting the belt. They moved under my weight and I thought for a minute that I heard someone say “Oh good Jesus, NO!” I started the belt at 2 miles per hour so as not to test the Gods and stepped on. It stuttered at the strain of my first few steps and then slowly plugged along. I then decided I would only test it for 10 minutes and grabbed the 2 pound hand weights off the built in weight rack (I didn’t grab the 3-pounders fearing the difference of the 2 pounds could make or break this deal) to up myself to a cardio level that 2 miles per hour surely wouldn’t accomplish.
After 8 minutes the biceps started to burn and I put the weights back down. It was at this moment I wished I’d had more faith and turned the TV on before getting on. I probably would have lost track of time and gone over my allotted 10 minutes because I was actually enjoying it once the paranoia subsided. I’m sure you’re wondering what motivated me to take such a leap and the best I can surmise is that I watched Biggest Loser last night and saw more people doing what I wished I could. One couple lost a combined 55 pounds in two weeks. I ached to get on my treadmill throughout that entire show and held back. It wasn’t until 10 o’clock that I determined I was the gamblin’ kind and gave ‘er a go. I know I’ll ware the poor thing out if I go balls out on it at this weight but I don’t see any reason why I can’t continue at the pace I did last night for a longer period of time. I think tonight I’ll do 20 minutes and keep it at that for the next week or so. So, what’s my response to the 300 pound weight limit? Tread on I say…ever so lightly.
(note: No animals were harmed in the making of this blog entry. Sacrificing of dogs to Treadmill Gods simply requires dressing them in pink shirts that have rhinestones spelling Diva Dog on the back and locking them in their kennels…which, to her, is a fate worse than death.)
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