I revised my February 23rd deadline to run 5km. I had wanted my birthday {late March for those playing at home} but my brother insisted that March 12th is as far as he would allow it to be pushed. I agreed. It was an extra three weeks and off I went. I hit week five hard and it was beautiful. Well, to be really, totally honest it probably wasn’t, but it FELT beautiful. I was finally hitting my stride and even the imprending 20 minute run wasn’t phasing me.

Then BAM. My treadmill stopped dead almost throwing me off the back in the process. WHAAAAAAAAAAAT, I screamed, THE HELL WAS THAT!? It had stopped dead, without warning. The safety cord was still attached to me and to the dock. The display panel kept ticking over as though all was fine. The iPhone pinged ‘walk’ as it continued to play through the speakers. Everything was working as it should except the mat had stopped turning.

So I reset it and kept going. Soon I was again gliding {ha, shuffling} along at a conservative rate. Prepared to brace myself should it stop again. It didn’t. The run was over and all was fine. I dropped my arms to their usual position and finished my interval walk. ‘Run’ said the iPhone app and off I went, bumping the treadmill speed up and getting into my stride. I was well over half way into the program and I was ridiculously proud. Amazed at how far I’d come.

And BAM. The treadmill stopped dead and I stumbled. Almost face planting into the control panel in the process. WHAT THE {insert various words I don’t use on this blog but have a tendency to blurt out!}….. I shouted. I screamed for Hubby to come and see if he could fix it. Flopped to the floor throwing a tantrum a 2 year old would be proud of. There were tears. Frustration and annoyance bursting out of my face. I lie on the floor, facing the ceiling, sobbing. and puffing a little, let’s face it. Hubby couldn’t fix it. The next day it started again and was fine, until 15 minutes in. When it stopped dead and threw me off the back. Hard.

I never got on again. I’m not stupid. It turns out that it’s got a problem. Clearly. And it’s not going away until I can get the YORK people to check it out. So I asked Hubby to grab my parent’s treadmill that had been residing on their front veranda gathering dust for years. 5 days later, it still hadn’t stopped raining. 7 days later, I asked him to pleeeeeease get the treadmill. By day 10 I threatened to write it on his forehead if he didn’t bring it home. It took 2 more days but it’s here. It needed a little clean…

So now, here I am, with just over a week to go until I have to make my first 5km attempt. Instead of completing week 7, I’ll be making an attempt at week 5. Good on you treadmill, not only did you make numerous attempts on my life with that whole quitting out of no-where thing, but now you’re messing with my deadline. And let’s face it, my bro isn’t going to have a bar of it. His sympathetic response was hit the road.

No sympathy there. March 12th, ready or not, here I come!