Today is Saturday, my long run day. Outside the wind is howling and it is 7°C with a feel of 4°C. I hate cold runs.
Some say treadmill running is not real running. Rubbish. It feels very real with the advantage of warm fingers and toes.
Those who insult the treadmill are often not seasoned runners. They have this warped idea that a 10km is spent admiring the trees and skies. No. A 10km is spent counting how many kms are left, looking at the ground to avoid twisting your ankle and dog poop, and dreaming of what you will eat after.
Of course on a balmy, tropical day in Trinidad, I would choose an outdoor run in UWI over the treadmill. I love the scent of Ylang Ylang in the evening, and the freshly cut grass in the morning. Even London with its 50 shades of grey, can be charming to run in on a warm spring or summer day. But today is not such a day.
As I wiggle my toes awake and sip my coffee, I hear my treadmill calling from the living room. "Come to me Simone. Put my incline at 1, set a gentle pace of 8.5km/hr, turn up the volume on your favourite tunes, and lose yourself in the run." "Yes!" I answer "to you I come."
There will be no battling with the wind today, no numb fingers, no runny nose. Just me and my treadmill.
