Outdoor, fair-weather running was my first and exclusive aerobic passion, and I enjoyed doing it for up to seven miles per run, five days a week. I luxuriated in the mental vastness I could enjoy on the outdoor trek, and each day there was something visually stunning to behold - Virga formations in the sky, the shadow of a hawk across the ground, the blaze of a sunset through spring trees, a fluttering mass of tiny yellow butterflies, a deer stepping out from a wooded stretch of road, or swirling snake tracks in the dirt through which I was striding. However, because the weather at times drove me indoors, and because the clay of Michigan back roads found my knees barking, I had to resort to the indoor version of running.
Crossing over to fitness machines was not something I was completely comfortable with - the treadmill was my logical choice at first, but I felt intimidated by a certain loss of control - would it be safe to run on such a machine at high speeds? Was it possible I might catch my shoe on the edge of the conveyor and fall?
As I eased cautiously into the activity, I watched how others handled high speed-stopping, an untied shoe, interruptions, or pushing a lot of buttons while going like a felon on a getaway. Some people seemed to do it while being able to check football scores, text and talk to the person next to them at the same time. Others just surged into the body mantra of forward motion, breathed and perspired, staring straight ahead. I did have a few mishaps (where I sprayed myself with my water bottle or caught the tread of my shoe on the edge of the spinning treadmill band), but over time I began to feel that utilizing the machines might help me to stay at a steady pace consistently - I realized that in using such machines I could mark my improvement, and of course the surface of the treadmill was more cushioned than the hard-packed clay and asphalt I had become accustomed to.
About a year into my indoor fitness endeavors, I had worked in the recumbent bike, the elliptical, the treadmill, the cycle, the spinning bike and the stair stepper into my rotation of aerobic workouts. I happened to be in the row of elliptical machines just behind the treadmills when a personal trainer and his new client approached the treadmill just ahead of me. I watched the client's reaction to the machine - her shoulders dropped back, her expression hollowed, and she swallowed hard.
"I've never used one of these before," she said with trepidation. She stepped onto the conveyor hesitantly, and the trainer guided her through the mechanisms and buttons that adjusted the speeds and levels of the machine. She held on to the handrails with a vice grip at first, walking slowly for a while until some of the tension eased out of her shoulders. At last she worked her way up to a quicker stride, with the trainer beside her urging her on positively throughout. It took me back to the moment I had experienced such uncertainty and newness, but watching the professional assisting the woman, I also felt the first telltale twinge of desire to become a personal trainer.
Crossing over to fitness machines was not something I was completely comfortable with - the treadmill was my logical choice at first, but I felt intimidated by a certain loss of control - would it be safe to run on such a machine at high speeds? Was it possible I might catch my shoe on the edge of the conveyor and fall?
As I eased cautiously into the activity, I watched how others handled high speed-stopping, an untied shoe, interruptions, or pushing a lot of buttons while going like a felon on a getaway. Some people seemed to do it while being able to check football scores, text and talk to the person next to them at the same time. Others just surged into the body mantra of forward motion, breathed and perspired, staring straight ahead. I did have a few mishaps (where I sprayed myself with my water bottle or caught the tread of my shoe on the edge of the spinning treadmill band), but over time I began to feel that utilizing the machines might help me to stay at a steady pace consistently - I realized that in using such machines I could mark my improvement, and of course the surface of the treadmill was more cushioned than the hard-packed clay and asphalt I had become accustomed to.
About a year into my indoor fitness endeavors, I had worked in the recumbent bike, the elliptical, the treadmill, the cycle, the spinning bike and the stair stepper into my rotation of aerobic workouts. I happened to be in the row of elliptical machines just behind the treadmills when a personal trainer and his new client approached the treadmill just ahead of me. I watched the client's reaction to the machine - her shoulders dropped back, her expression hollowed, and she swallowed hard.
"I've never used one of these before," she said with trepidation. She stepped onto the conveyor hesitantly, and the trainer guided her through the mechanisms and buttons that adjusted the speeds and levels of the machine. She held on to the handrails with a vice grip at first, walking slowly for a while until some of the tension eased out of her shoulders. At last she worked her way up to a quicker stride, with the trainer beside her urging her on positively throughout. It took me back to the moment I had experienced such uncertainty and newness, but watching the professional assisting the woman, I also felt the first telltale twinge of desire to become a personal trainer.
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