Tales from the Treadmill

Ah, the treadmill, my old nemesis. I finally went back to the gym this week, for the first time since running the Peachtree and finding out I was pregnant. Back in the day, I was a regular, hitting the machine at least three times a week in preparation for the 10K. It was awful. I'm just not a runner. The only time I can honestly say I enjoyed running was when Matt, my dad and I took a practice run around Lake Peachtree about a week before the real race. Now that wasn't bad. Pretty flat, nice scenery, encouraging company, plenty of friendly PTC people waving good morning. But around my lovely L-ville apartment, there just aren't many places to take a jog, so I resorted to the treadmill in the clubhouse gym. Most days, catching reruns of Fraiser were enough to keep me going until I collapsed, gasping, at the four mile mark.

Anyway, like I said, I was a regular this past spring and summer. Most mornings I would have the place to myself, save for the sweet cleaning woman who would pop in to wash the windows or tidy up. Over time, we developed a bit of a friendship. She'd come in, watch me pounding along with my red, sweat-drenched face, grin and say hi. I'd gasp out a hello in return. Eventually she asked me if I was training for something and I told her the Peachtree Road Race resolution. It wasn't much, but she always had a smile and greeting for me. When I returned to the gym after our trip to Texas and Yellowstone, she remarked that I had been gone and asked how my running was going. It was nice.

Then, the day after the Peachtree, I found out I was pregnant. I hadn't stepped foot back inside that gym until this week, when I finally realized that not having a job or school anymore pretty much left me out of excuses. So I hopped back on the dreaded treadmill, this time for a leisurely stroll rather than a heart-pounding run. And just like old times, the cleaning lady popped in as I was exercising. She seemed happy to see me, greeted me like an old pal just back from a long absence. And then "Oh my gosh, you're pregnant!" She grinned. I grinned. She peppered me with questions. "So were you pregnant back then while you were training for your race?" I admitted that I had been, unknowingly. She seemed genuinely pleased for me, this woman who I barely know, can't even tell you her name. It's funny, the people you brush by in life, the little bonds you can form without even meaning to. My family and friends, I know you all are happy for me, I know you mean it when you tell me. But this woman, practically a stranger, made my day with her warm, heart-felt congrats. Needless to say, heading back to the treadmill just got a little easier.