Flying on the treadmill

Okay it is an odd thing to love, most people see a treadmill as the end of the day chore and yes there is a part of me who wants just to go home for a cup of tea. In fact tonight, I nearly flatlined at 5 mins, but managed a cool thirty minutes. I even managed to fly for about 3 minutes (no hands holding on, which with my balance and having watched someone fall off a treadmill last mouth is no mean feet). I love the freedom of powering on  a treadmill as my mind can write in the energy of exercise. I try keep enough focus so I don't slide off, but my head isn't in the gym, it is 

dreaming of a world that I am standing in and loving life.  I feel that the treadmill is like a magic carpet, it can take me deep into my prose and the world of my characters, it can allow me to work out frustrations of a day but I always leave happier! I think it is because I channel the inner part of me who is motivated by straightforward goals. I have shared this piece before but here it is again.

Finding my feet

There is no colour. Clinical white surrounds me and that smell, it reminds me of mummy trying to clean up after I have been sick. The trouble is that smell always makes me feel sick again. Another thing I cannot escape from is the heat. It feels as though the sun is right above us. Mummy has already taken off my jumper and I wish she would take of my shoes. I hate wearing shoes, if nature wanted us in shoes, shouldn't we have been born with them on?

The group of adults is back again with notepads and pens. They don't allow me to draw - only them. There is an older man with a white beard and glasses - a bit like Father Christmas in disguise. He is busy talking to my mummy and two other ladies in white tops and dark trousers. It is odd to have an auidence when you are only three years old.

They want me to do the same as last week; to walk between the bars from one end to the next. I have not managed it yet so why should this time be any different? Mummy places me at one end and kisses me. No words of encouragement though can make me walk.

I can't do this. I stand there thinking that the end of the bars look as far away as the view of the hills from the kitchen window. My knees are still bruised from last week's try. I look back at my mum, her sweet smiles makes me want to crawl into her arms.

Suddenly, images of my friends appear, all running around the garden and me limited in my actions. If I did walk, I could play with my friends. No longer bound to the red & white push chair. I could be one of them, part of the gang, not stuck in the sand.

I take each of the bars in my hands. My palms are sweating already and I have to grip like a vice to not lose my hold. My legs feel unconnected to the rest of me. Come on brain, keeping the messages pumping through my legs, they are counting on you.

Heels down and then the toes. My first few steps are awkward. Each time I move one foot, I shake all over. All my concentration is being kept on where my feet are going. Any normal person would only feel this way I do now if they were standing on a boat during a storm. I sway to each side constantly. My audience is holding their breath and the plasters for when I go bump on the ground. Whatever they are feeling, I need all my focus to be on my legs and feet. I have only taken five steps and I already want to be at home eating ice-cream. What is so important about walking anyway?

My thoughts of vanilla ice-cream have distracted me and I stumble again. It's beginning to feel like any other Thursday. Time to bruise my poor little knees again. As I feel myself falling, I catch in the edge of my vision the end of the bars. Surprisingly, they are incredibly close, not out of reach. My focus comes back. I stop myself from falling. I keep going heel, toe, heel toe to reach the end of my first solo walk. But it is not enough when I get there so I turn myself around and walk back. Finding my feet are strong enough to carry me means I have stated my own walk to my personal freedom. Now, if I could just learn to talk properly there will be no stopping me.

It is as think in a world that can become over complicated with things, it good to enjoy simply things and remember that sometimes it is the simple pleasures that can lead to us to achieve our greatest dreams. And while I dream on the treadmill, I am also realising that my fitness, which I once thought I had lost forever, is coming back and that makes me want to roar!