A week ago, I thought of something to myself. I’ve never fallen on a treadmill. I’ve been on one hundreds of times. I’m not very graceful. But I’ve never fallen on one.
This week, I can say I have as I hang my head in shame.
I stepped onto my treadmill, last night, routinely as I do every night for my 30 minute walk. Water bottles in holders. Remote control. Safety switch casually hanging. Speed set at 3.7. Take off. My first step was a sign of danger. I stepped too far forward and smacked the actual treadmill. It caused my knee to give way. From there, things went in slow motion. I remember landing on both knees and thinking, “I’m falling. I’m falling. I’m really falling.” My knees skidded across the belt while I clung to my bar, hoping for a miracle at this point instead of just turning the machine off. After all, that would be too simple and too practical. I released my grip on the bar and fell to my side on the belt. A belt is short but that quick, dreadful tumble to the bottom can seem like five minutes. Frozen in time. You know what is about to take place and you know it’s going to be painful. You just don’t know unpleasant it’s going to be.
Unfortunately, my treadmill is right up against a heavy end table full of books, a couch and the wall. I was jammed, wedged at the base of it. In a scene that I can only describe as horrific. I felt like a hot dog in a gas station on one of those metal warmers, spinning indefinitely. Finally, I was able to bear down against the belt to get it to decelerate. Only momentarily. I felt a slight yank at my hair. Then a more constant one. Great, now my hair is stuck in the belt. I’m going to be bald before this is over. I yell. Scream. Moan. Something that caught Elijah’s attention in the front living room. He walked into the den and his eyes widened at the sight. He walked directly up to me.
“Mom, what are you doing?”
“Trying a new exercise out.” My hair was getting tighter.
“Does it work?” Seriously, Elijah, really?
“Turn it off.” I managed to squeak out as my head bobbed backwards with the pull of my hair. He managed to pull the emergency stop and I relaxed, laying my head straight back on the belt. I was wounded. Defeated by the machine. I was bloody on both knees, elbows and have road rash across my back. My hair, thankfully, was only trapped behind me. I could breathe. Elijah was laughing hysterically at this point.
“I saw you one minute and then you were gone and I heard thump, thump, thump.” He giggled.
For the first time, I had explain to him that next time he hears a thump, thump, thump where mommy is supposed to be…please come check.
