When you are used to the freedom of being able to just put on your running gear and heading out the door, it is soul destroying to be confined to exercising in the gym. The soundtrack of crap, but always upbeat, music, people grunting and huffing (me included) and the “thomp, thomp, thomp” of the feet, of those able to run, on the treadmill. The gym I go to is in a basement so it has no natural light or view to the outside world. Yet, my physio tells me, this is where I will be doing all my exercise for the next 4 or so WEEKS!!!!!!
It seems that whatever I have done to my leg, is pretty serious. Or at least it’s taking it’s sweet time to heal. I can walk without a limp now but even a few running steps taken to catch up with my 5-year old son were enough to tell me I am not anywhere near running.
So I have resigned myself to the boring horror of smelling other people’s sweat instead of the fresh (as fresh as inner-city air is) air. No cursing at pedestrians getting in my way, instead I will be keeping my head down and pretending I belong (and know how to use the equipment). The only hills I will be doing, will be conquered in the virtual world of increasing resistance dictated by a computer.
Every time I swipe my card to enter the gym, my soul dies a little.
However, every now and again, I wake up in the morning from a dream where I was out running. My legs feel light and the running is effortless. My mind is free and I am happy, happy, happy. For the few, elusive seconds I am a runner again.
I just need to do my time in this over-priced, voluntary, prison and I will be out there again. And let me tell you, I can’t wait.