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Treadmill love

Dearest Sole,

I know I have treated you badly in the past. It’s not your fault that you’re really a gigantic hamster wheel for humans. I’m really sorry for all the times I called you a Dreadmill because I really do not DREAD running on you, I just prefer things like breezes, sun, trails, and lovely picturesque landscapes. I know you wish you had more to offer than a view of the TV showing 1980 reruns of Dallas.

Even after the way I’ve offended you, you have always been there, standing tall and patiently waiting for your directives. Never judging (outloud to my face because you are a smart machine, aren’t you?), and never stopping because you get tired or you don’t want to miss an episode of Criminal Minds. I know you can’t understand why Miss Ellie who did NOT shoot J.R. Ewing would be playing instead of Derek Morgan and Garcia. I get it. I really do.

So thank you again for being there at 3:30 am when nothing would touch the insomnia. I just hate I tossed and turned for 2 hours when I keep forgetting how I took my first steps as a runner so many years ago. It was this time of year, actually, and insomnia would not leave me alone. I drove to a park in the pre-dawn hours and walked (waddled)/ran (shuffled) for a little while and came home to crash. At 4:00 this morning I crashed hard and nothing woke me again until my nifty alarm app that I wisely changed to the most obnoxious sound ever because the melodious pings of the harp or whatever wouldn’t wake me up.

Until we meet again, Sole. Be strong and stand tall. You know you freak out my cat when you change positions. Again, not your fault that when you first arrived, he hid under the bed covers for 2 solid days, risking one of his lives because that is a hard limit in our house.

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