Here is why:
It is my amazing Mothers Day gift. I wanted one all winter long as I fought through cold and icy runs. I wanted one when my kids were sick and leaving the house for a quick run didn’t seem possible. I wanted one when my husband was gone crazy hours. I wanted one as I thought of the long, hot summer days. And now I have one.
I have yet to run more than three miles on this contraption. I quit every time. Running on it bores me like nothing else. It’s far too easy to hear a squeal out of my kids and think, “I should quit now and see what’s happening”. It’s far too easy to quit when all I have to do is press a button, instead of running a couple miles back home. The treadmill is, in fact, a bust so far.
I’m going to try to love it. My husband would really like me to. I would really like to. My seasonal allergies would prefer I run inside these days. And the thought of possible marathon training all but insures that I will need to, at some point, learn to love the darn thing.