We were so happy.  The former owners of our new home decided to leave behind their treadmill.  We were so sad.  The treadmill would not work properly for anything larger than a tree frog.

Not one to settle with sad and considering that we are much larger than tree frogs, I called in a treadmill repair fellow.  Sure enough, $96 later, he had the treadmill up and running.  His advice, “This model really wasn’t built for running.  I would recommend using it only for walking or it might cause the (treadmill’s) deck to crack.”

With the repairman watching, I hopped on the machine in my slippers.  I turned the machine up to level 3 speed and sure enough it worked fine.  I was enjoying a nice walk.  Then I got to thinking (this is where it usually takes a turn for the worse…  even though you can only walk straight on a treadmill…  ha, the irony), why does the machine go all the way up to level 10, if it was only designed to operate at level 3?

Gaining confidence with every step, I turned up the speed.  Again.  Again.  Again.  Soon I was in full jogging stride.  Slippers and all.  I’m sure the technician was impressed.  Impressed, until we heard a “snap!”  Great fear washed over me.  Had I just broken the machine that had just been fixed three minutes earlier?  Was I a complete fool?  Exercising?  In slippers?  Well, yes to the questions about the exercising fool in slippers, but I desperately looked to the repairman for good news.  Good and comforting news of any sort.  A pardon from my stupidity was preferable.

Without a second glance, he reassured me that it had just been the plastic on the cover snapping back into place.  I had been spared, while returning to an appropriate speed of 3, still in my slippers and walking again as I should.

While I still don’t know why they would ever design a machine whose level 3 should actually be its level 10, I did know one thing.  I will never again enter any speed higher than 3, slippers or not.

Hubris sure isn’t a good running companion.  Word to your treadmill.