It’s 8:30pm and I have just arrived home from a long busy day at work. The day’s journey has required the use of two hats, my corporate business top hot and my creative and shiny boiler hat.
Multiple hurdles have some what been successfully over come, the race against Melbourne city traffic won, and an audition for a Berlin art director accomplished and as the evening is coming to a conclusion I have just enough time to sneak in a quick run before crawling into bed for a little rest, relaxation and energy replenishment.
Now I am not a huge lover of treadmills, I much prefer the excitement and spontaneity of running outdoors however the combination of evening spring time chill and dark western suburban streets make the indoor running machine a friendlier alternative tonight… So I thought.
Fifteen minutes into my run I am feeling fantastic, my body feels light, my mind seems to believe that it can go forever and I decided pick up the pace. Had I been running out doors the simple task of going faster would just require my brain sending the signal and my body reacting but with modern technology being what it is the act of going faster on my running mechanism required press a button multiple times until I reached my next level of “super woman, I can achieve anything today,” intensity.
What happened next was not really what I had hoped my desired outcome of goal kicking greatness would be.
Firstly, I had to look down to find the correct button on the high tech touch pad in front of me. Then I had to break my arm and leg coordination to press the button for what seemed like forever to get the speed I wanted to challenge myself to. This led to me tripping over my feet, falling over myself, knees thumping onto the belt, quickly followed by my stomach and then chin, flinging me backwards in a ridiculous, all to quick manner.
Within that chaos of madness, in that few seconds of slow motion where you see your life flash before you, I remembered my mothers porcelain vase collection positioned beautifully only a few feet behind the machine. Not wanting my body to be flung into it and not wanting to deal with at outraged mother, I quickly grabbed onto the edge of the treadmill just in the nick of time, holding on for dear life, trying to quickly decipher my next move. Screaming in agony as my shoulder was burning beneath the speeding belt I army rolled over the top the apparatus and onto the freedom of cold tiles.
As I caught my breath I looked down at the layer of skin that had been oh so beautiful grazed of my shoulder and shivered at the burning sensation running through me I thought to myself perhaps the safety clip is not such a silly addition to the machine after all!