Friday, May 1, 2009

They Say Exercise Is Good For You

I am not a visual person. No, really - I cannot picture a scene inside my head to save my life. When I read, I don't imagine the look of the characters in the book. I had a hard time in my Bradley birthing class because I couldn't see "my happy place" during labor practice. When I was active in sports, I could never visualize myself executing the necessary moves correctly.

Oddly enough, I could *always* picture myself falling off the balance beam, scratching a serve, hitting the high jump bar, and other spectacular failures.

It seems this predilection has carried over to my current workout of choice, the treadmill. Without fail, every time I get on the treadmill I start having these visions in my head. Visions of me tripping (not a huge stretch, as I do this often), falling off, hitting my head on the metal shelving behind me and bleeding all over the gym floor, giving myself both a concussion and the need for a blood transfusion. Or my shoe comes untied and I step on the laces, causing me to fall forward, go under the front bar, hit my head on the rowing machine in front of me, break my neck and instantly die.

I see these scenarios and various others of the same ilk, always centered around my sheer klutziness and always resulting in extreme embarrassment, injury, and/or fatality. I see them in great detail, going so far as to observe the stunned reactions of my fellow gym goers and the staff members. I see them in color - high def even. I can hear the shocked gasps followed by the murmured conversations about my lack of grace (the women) and how I might have had better luck on a stationary bike (the men).

Am I alone in my calamitous visions of self destruction?

I feel like I may be all by myself on this one. It would seem to me that it takes a particular dose of crazy to have a front row seat at the Theatre O' Death & Dismemberment not once, not occasionally, but every. single. freaking. time! one gets upon one's treadmill and begins one's workout.

Sometimes I think this may be God's way of telling me to get off the treadmill. You know, like that joke about the guy who was caught in a flood and refused to get on the rescue bus, boat, and helicopter because "Jesus will save me!" And then he drowns and when he asks Jesus why, he gets told, "I sent you a bus, a boat, and a helicopter - what more did you want?!"

I wonder if I'll recognize that helicopter when it comes for me. I can see it now ... crash-landing right on top of me.

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