running. . .without being chased!

I had a breakthrough in my quest to whittle down my thighs. . .

I went running. Well, my workout started as walking, but ended running. And when I say running. . .that more or less describes the bounce, not necessarily the speed. But either way. . .it was activity.

We have the oldest working treadmill in the state in our basement. It's white, covered in Miami Vice-ish lettering and has a belt that is about 12 inches wide. It has an old pulse meter that you clip to your index finger. You turn a crank to incline the machine. The "handlebars" lost their spongy grip a long time ago and is now just exposed metal. If your arms hit the bars, it gives you an electric shock. It sounds like the subway when you turn it on. It's old, outdated, and seen better days but it works. . .just like me.

Yesterday, in the throws of a mommy melt down, I left Bill with the children and went to the basement. I started to walk. My iPod was blaring. . .I couldn't hear anyone yelling or screaming. It felt good. It felt liberating. I turned up my iPod a bit more. . .

I was listening to Dr. John's "Right Place, Wrong Time." I walked faster. "Off the Wall" by Michael Jackson came up next. Perfect. Magnet and Steel, Hollaback Girl, Jungle Boogie, even Xanadu. Yes, I own Xanadu. My playlists are. . .eclectic.

Anyway. . .the music is on the verge of hurting my ears and I turn it up even more. The treadmill sounds like a plane taking off. My thighs are burning. I start jogging. I can do this. I used to do this all the time. MJ is telling me to "straighten up my act and boogie down." I'm trying, MJ. . .I'm trying. It hurts in my chest. . .my knees. . .the back of my neck. . .my teeth. I'm sloppy. I keep getting electric shocks. My knees and ankles knock together. I keep running.

And then it comes. The rush of running through the pain. And I immediately felt better. Yes. I can do this. So I keep running. I run through one song, and the next and the next. I can't hear anything but the music and I feel good. I'm singing out loud. Playing the air drums. . .my mind starts wandering. . .

Bill set up this treadmill for me a long time ago. He tucked it neatly into a corner, put a DVD player and his old 12 inch TV/VCR combo (how's that for an old TV?) directly in front. He wanted it to be attractive for me to use. "The Young and the Restless even comes in down there." But it's also in the living room. . .on the couch. . .

I can see my reflection in the TV. I look good. Admittedly, the screen is dusty and dirty and that may have had something to do with it. But I don't care. It looks like I have good form. Every now and then I wander off the belt and almost fall. Ow! Another shock. I wonder for a second if the neighbors can see in the windows. . .

I started to look around the basement. It's filled with old hobbies and things I meant to get to. My bowling bag is staring at me. I used to bowl. Well. . .I used to enjoy bowling while drinking beer. Now those were good days, I think. I see a box of shells collected over years at the beach. My grandpa's banjo that I wanted to learn how to play. Scrap booking odd and ends. Cook books with recipes I meant to try. There are food dehydrators, crock pots, stock pots, and casserole dishes piled up in a corner waiting for recipes.

I watched myself run in the TV a bit more and thought that it would be smart to get back to some hobbies. . . instead of the "mom" hobby I've been engulfed in for 2 years. Soon Cole and I could go to kiddie bowling and I could work on my average again. . . join a league. I've certainly got plenty to scrapbook about. And if I could position a notebook somewhere on this treadmill to jot down more writing ideas. . .

It wasn't until I was seriously jamming to Styx's "Renegade" that I realized I'd run through my whole playlist. I quickly realized I was smelling burning rubber, too. How ironic. The treadmill and the electric plug were hot to the touch so it was time to stop. And when the music was off, the commotion upstairs instantly commenced. When it was all said and done, I'd run for about an hour. I couldn't remember a time that an hour felt so rewarding.

So I'll definitely make running part of my weekly routine. If for nothing else, than to leave the madness of what's upstairs. And I seriously recommend adding Dr. John and Off the Wall to your playlist. Okay, well. . .Off the Wall might be an acquired taste, but the Dr. John is essential.

That's enough of that. Here are some pictures I took of Tilley this week. . .she's already getting so big! She's smiling and laughing when you make faces at her. Cole's continuing to be the sweet big brother he's been so far. He kisses and hugs Tilley each morning but then could care less about her for the rest of the day. Fine by me.

She is giving us some trouble each night before bed, but Bill and I have now come to expect it. . .and it makes it easier to deal with.