Today is the day.
After a year of anticipation, the new gym is finally opening a couple of blocks away. No more 15-minute drives. No more fighting traffic. No more “I don’t have time” excuses.
I go there first thing. The place is beautiful. Not too big, not too small. Not too crowded, not too sparse. The Three Bears version of a gym. Great weight equipment. Nice ellipticals. And then.
I see the treadmills. Apparently, they have found the company that provided treadmills for my apartment complex in Austin in the mid-1980s. They’re old and creaky, some broken, some just grumbling in the “you kids get off my lawn” way. I try one. The speed control doesn’t work. I try another. The incline doesn’t work. I get claustrophobia. They are jammed together so close that the elbow of the next guy threatens me.
I walk out, get in the car and drive 15 minutes back to the old gym. The old TM says hey, unaware of my temptation.
I run 3 miles, 13:20 pace.
Today is the day. It’s just not THAT day. Oh, well …