Dancing On a Treadmill is Hard


Monday started off with a good pace. One thumbs-up song after another on my Paul Simon radio channel. I was burning calories and making inspiration through perspiration.

Too much? Fair enough. But sweaty feels good.

And when Tuesday tread time began with Blue Monday, the day just rocked on into a jamming 80’s dance party.

Although by Friday, I was holding on to those treadmill handles and barely able to provide back-up vocals to Take Me Home, Country Roads.

I took Saturday off from the conveyor belt for some pizza, beer, and leftover caramel Easter eggs.

I’ll get back on that tiny track tomorrow. Trusting in its promise to lead me forward into harmonious transition. Believing in its ability to deliver me into a zone where the dancing may be in my head, but the song is the rhythm of hope.

Sweat out the fear, the tragedy, the damage, the misgiving that tomorrow is too scary to train for because it may not exist.

Keep getting faster. Going further. Encourage the strength, tenacity, commitment, and conviction to boogie.


(Safety note: Please do not try dancing on a treadmill at home: …..unless you tie that emergency-stop-string-thing to your pants.)


(Please double-knot it, depending on how much you like dancing.)




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