The Running Machine.

I've heard people name their treadmills.  I never did that.  If I thought hard about what I called my treadmill, the only name that comes to mind is, "The Running Machine".  I started using it when the boys were little.  The word "treadmill" meant nothing to them, but the term "running machine" was clear and to the point.  And so, the name stuck, two little sisters have been added, and many years later, and still all the kids refer to the treadmill as, "The Running Machine".  The room where the treadmill is located, is called, "The Running Machine" room.



Sometimes, throughout the years I've wanted to nix the nick name and transition everyone over to calling it the treadmill.  It's so many fewer syllables!  But change is hard on kids, so I get soft with them sometimes.  Besides, I like thinking that I am a "running machine", and that I share that in common with my treadmill.  So it is a bit endearing, as far as names go. 

In 2002 we moved from Germany to Syracuse Utah, so that Darin could be stationed at Hill AFB.  Shortly after arriving, I decided I was going to train for my first marathon.  But shortly after we arrived, Darin got deployed to a war, and I got left home with two little toddlers, and a big dream about a marathon.  Thinking I would shelf the dream for another few years, I was talking to my mother-in-law about how I'd wait to run my marathon when life was "easier".  When she suddenly said, "We have a treadmill, it's sitting in our storage unit.  It's brand new, no one uses it.  Let me bring it to you."

The memory of it all can still get me choked up.  And I will never forget the image of Darin's mom and her sister, lugging this ginormous treadmill down the steep stairs of our first home in Utah after Darin had been deployed, just so that I wouldn't have to give up on my dream.

Tell me you're getting a little chocked up too.  I have a sweet, sweet mother in law, who has always believed in my potential.

I wish I knew how many miles I've logged on The Running Machine.  It has to be many.  George is 8, and I've had it since he was 1.  That running machine has turned me back into a runner more times than I can count.  As I have staged my come back training from pregnancy, twin deliveries, nursing babies, deployments, moves, marathons etc.  That running machine helped me invent my motto, "it's never too late to run."  And saw me log miles starting at 11pm on some crazy days of my life with little kids. 




I got on the treadmill today after the girls went to school.  It was raining, and I'm spared having to go to the public gym (I have germ issues, so being spared that outing is priceless!!), because I can just run in the comfort of my own home (I'm comfortable with the germs that live here with me).

I had a new TV show downloaded to my ipod, hooked up to my flat screen TV hanging on the wall.  I had the window open.  It was Monday, so I was feeling sluggish and tired, but knew the run was going to be my cure-all.  I had just passed the three mile mark, when I decided I was going to walk a minute before increasing my pace.  I was walking, and then suddenly I was jerked to a stop.  The belt stopped moving.  At first I thought the fues had been popped, that's happened lots of times here in Korea.  But, the TV was on.  I got down on my knees to flip the power switch and see what was going on, when I felt the heat radiating up from the motor and smelled a bit of a burning smell.

The power never came back on.

The Running Machine stopped.

It might be dead.

It's most likely dead.

I might not be ready to talk about it yet.

R.I.P. Running Machine 

You have no idea how much you will be missed. 

And should the power on The Running Machine choose to never come back on, it's memory will live on with me indefinitely.



That was a really sad way to start off my Monday.  And now I'm a bit at a loss as to my Tuesday.  My Tuesday consists of waking up, getting the boys off to school. Having breakfast with my ladies.  Getting them situated with some sort of activity or distraction, while I get on "The Running Machine".  It's our routine, we have it down, and we all love it.  Tuesday might be harder than Monday.

They say that time heals all wounds.  And I'll find a new way to live out my motto "it's never too late for a run", but it's not exactly the challenge I was looking forward to in my remaining 84 days left in Korea!

Besides, did you know that they took away Jamoca Almond Fudge from our Baskin Robbins??  If the universe is trying to send me a signal that it's time to bit Adieu to Korea, let me just say, "I hear you loud and clear!" 

No treadmill and no Jamoca Almond Fudge?  Seriously?!  I think my fabric budget just got increased exponentially for the duration of our stay here.  I have some wounds I'm trying to heal! 


I'll leave you with some happier images for your Monday morning.  Spring soccer, and George: 

Could he look any more studly?

An action shot.  He's been a very aggressive goalie so far this season. 

And finally, I like to call this one, "George and the ladies".  Because let's be honest, I think I'm going to have lots of pictures in his lifetime called, "George and the ladies".