Sunday, January 19, 2014

Getting the Belt

I am a product of old school, lower middle class disciplinarian mentality that is nearing extinction in modern society. Back in my youth, when we messed up or broke the rules- such as talked out of turn, lied about our homework, made faces, borrowed daddy's car at the age of 7, cooked the family bowling ball for dinner, slaughtered some vampires for no particular reason, bounced on your bed and 'accidentally' shoved your brother's head into the drywall... I could go on for a while as there were a lot of instances of hilarity that needed correcting- we got paddled.

Nowadays, paddlins are few and far between in the world of discipline. There may or may not be a good reason for this and the conversation is very emotionally charged when it comes to paddlin philosophy. People in the anti-paddlin movement have a powerful lobby in DC and are ever aggressive in their tactics. Therefore, the discipline du jour seems to be non-violent timeouts, to grounding to your room (an oldie but a goodie), to no correctional actions at all (ya know, it's not the kids' fault they messed up).

Looking back and analyzing my own youth, I think I'd still rather have the paddlin. It's over with in moments and the anticipation was worse than the act. Timeouts or groundings can take hours, days, months, or years in some cases. I'd prefer to get on with life ASAP. Mommy had a number of paddlin tools available at her disposal and my bum felt it all (seriously, I was not an angel). On the list of paddles and the final fate of those tools:
  • wooden spoon (broken over bum)
  • cutting board (broken over bum)
  • Mom's hand (broken over bum)
  • hot wheels race car tracks (warped beyond use)
  • sticks (burned in the camp fire)
  • the belt (fate unknown but still have occasional nightmares )
Finally, I moved out. Nothing helps you avoid a consequence better than putting mileage between you and the consequence giver. No, I didn't become better behaved, I'm just as deviant as ever. At least the paddlins have stopped. Or so I thought...

The belt has returned to haunt my nightmares. And my daymares. No, my mommy has not moved in with me (yet). Worse, I'm getting belted again. The belt has grown. It's bigger. Stronger. And much more painful than ever.

You guessed it. I've started running on the treadmill. And I hate it. This vile, evil contraption is the spawn of the underworld. 

Sure, it's a great way to avoid the weather. Granted, you don't have to wear copious amounts of clothing. Yes, there are no objects of which you could trip and injure yourself. Admittedly, you don't have to worry about traffic and the bright lights, near misses, utter oblivion of motorists. True that the risk of encountering wild life, such as skunks, coyotes, bears, and herds of antelope is non-existent. Some even say that the ability to control speed and elevation make for better training. I'm not so sure it's worth it.

I'm am on the belt about 2 times a week. Typically, I use the trainer to add mileage to my weekly volume. I go slow, at roughly 60-90 seconds per minute slower than my easy outdoor pace. It's still hard. Not mentally. I have the Netflix to take my mind away to a happier place. But physically, the treadmill is exhausting. Unlike the belt from my arse, this isn't over in an instant. The pounding continues for 30-40 minutes.

To add insult to injury, the Garmin has no idea that I did any work. The Garmin is a global positioning system that triangulates via satellite communications. The 3 (up to 6) satellites that lock on to my whereabouts simultaneously can do so while I'm in the confines of my garage. However, from their lofty vantage point, I haven't actually gone anywhere. If the Garmin didn't see the workout, did it actually happen? I know that there is a periphery device known as the foot pod purposely invented to solve this problem. I'm too much of a pansy to add any additional weight to my feet.

One has to ask, why? Why do you do this? Because, in the world of running, volume is the key. The more miles I can put on my legs, the better runner I can be. And, let's face it, I'm not much of a runner. Any help I can get, I'm willing to take. And, I am fully determined not to suck this year. 

So, when I get off the bike and have a little bit of time left in my day, I get belted. My treadmill logs about 15% of my weekly mileage. It allows me to hop off the bike and get to the run without adding copious amounts of clothing to my body.

When I'm finished, I have to manually enter workouts to my Garmin Calendar. I like to leave myself little notes about how the treadmill run went. Here are a few:

Once the weather breaks, mid-July around here, the dreadmill's services will no longer be necessary. It will sit in my workout room collecting dust like everyone else's machine (let's face it- there's only a few of these devices relatively speaking that see much action). That will be a glorious time indeed.  Plus, should the anti-paddlin people get smart and force the paddlers to run on a belt, they may win the war.


  1. Very interesting analogy... I could add a few to the paddling list as well! Now my dad punishes me with indoor track runs. Only way I can get around that 200m thing is by doing intervals. He tries to punish me with 60-90min straight runs but I can't do it anymore. I'd actually like to try the treadmill more as thats how I got back into running after multiple knee surgeries and rehabbed at a friend's house. Haven't pulled the trigger on buying one yet...

    1. Dan- to be fair, it's not my dreadmill either. The Wife bought it ages ago off CraigsList. She's not running, so one of us needs to take up the slack to justify the purchase. Sucks that it's me.

    2. Well, if you need me to take it off your hands.... ;) Movies? I used to watch Chappelle's show when at my buddy's... he would come down and check on me because I was laughing so hard at times.

    3. The Netflix is strong in my workout room. Mostly bad action/ bad dramas. Sorta like an analogy for my life...

  2. BTW, you'll love IMMT if you haven't already done it...