Goofy day. Went to a gym for the first time since the 80s. My friend, Lara, gave me a 7-day pass to her gym and since today was windy and cold, it was the perfect time to try it out.

On the way there, I had a brush with anti-greatness; I saw Danny Bonaduce. He and a pretty girl crossed the street in front of my car as I was stopped at a stop sign. They were looking at historic stuff along the block. I had him in my sights long enough to call Nick and tell him, “I can see Danny Bonaduce in my rear view mirror.” He thought I was nuts. Anyway, seeing him ranks up there with the time I waited tables on Tiny Tim, or saw Liberace in concert or Pia Zadora belting her guts out at Radio City Music Hall. Something about loony-tune pop icons, they’re so invigorating and life-affirming. Sigh.

So I was all ramped up by the time I got to the gym. They gave me the little tour and then I made my way to the treadmills. Having recently read a forumite’s post of joining a gym where she mentioned the treadmills have personal TVs now (how Jetsons!), I was uber excited to enjoy this bit of luxury for myself. Two seconds later, I’m all, “Wow, I’m running and I’m watching TV! This is cool!” then about a minute later, when I’m feeling quite unsteady and disgusted with myself for watching Inside Weekend Edition because running is one time in my life where I can assure myself I’m NOT ingesting crap, I turn off the TV. Three minutes have gone by.

Then I innocently start playing with things that hang off the treadmill, this thing that looks like a blood pressure thing, and I see there’s a slot for heartrate, so this thing must read my heartrate, but…wtf? why am I stopping, what did I do? Then I press the Pause/reset button one two many times, so the treadmill goes back to zero, instantly negating the half mile I miserably completed.

Because I am miserable. I am just standing in one place, running. I can’t keep my eye away from the Distance readout, as if watching it will turn the numbers faster. Finally I get a respite – some crazy guy hops on two treadmills down from mine. He must be carrying lead in his sneakers, because each footstep is punctuated with Bam! Bam! Bam! Which would be OK, if he didn’t start singing aloud with his ipod. And not proper words and tune, just random guttural notes that sounded like a seal being slaughtered.

Thankfully, half way through the hour, my friend Lara meets me and steps on the treadmill between me and the seal, which seems to calm him down. And for the next ½ hour, Lara and I chat while I stare woefully at the distance readout some more, wanting it to please, just be over. I end up doing some tempo miles so I can finish faster.

Now I’m home and feeling great that I got some miles in on this cold day, thanks to Lara – my only runner friend (non forum related, that is), the one who just about held my hand at my first 5K, and ran with me when I was slower than dirt. Thank you, Lara, for helping me to see that fancy little TVs do not make the run, and thank you for getting between me and the dying seal. Love you, girl.

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