Treadmill Magic

When I was 20, my roommate and I started flossing late at night while watching 'Magnum P.I.' re-runs on T.V. I decided to floss one night, and it was so ridiculous that she said, "I'm going to floss too." Flossing with Magnum became a daily joke for quite a while. Then we did it in earnest.

I have been flossing ever since. True story. And the minute I started flossing, I stopped - for the first time in my life - getting cavities, and subsequently, fillings. Eureka. The grand discovery.

The cause and effect of this has become an innate truth for me, and I value flossing highly. (Who says that, "I value flossing highly"?)

And then there's the treadmill. If I walk for 20 minutes at a good pace on my treadmill for two nights in a row, I wake up on the third day with no pain in my feet. Eureka. This again is a clear 'cause and effect' situation. Who doesn't want to have happy feet?

And yet somehow I can't make it a habit. You'd think that I could squeeze in 20 minutes of treadmill every day. It's a battle of wills. Me against me.

Now all this being said, purchasing a treadmill has been a really good decision for me. I used to get gym memberships that I didn't use, and join aerobics/yoga/aquafit classes that I never went to, and I even jogged on the fabulous Saskatoon riverbank a few times (a. few. times.). With a treadmill in my living space, I can theoretically step onto it at any moment of the day or night. And this has meant that I've never quit doing it for more than three weeks at a time, since I bought it in 2007. That's pretty good, considering it's me.

Crappy T.V. shows help. Sometimes we set up the T.V. in front of the treadmill, and I can walk and watch trash and time flies by.

Perhaps I should rent some Magnum P.I. DVDs from the Library. Perhaps he's the catalyst. The squirrel tamer. My very own Richard Simmonds.