August 31, 2010 By Lissa
Dear beloved, underused, abused Sportcraft treadmill,
You have been in my life for three-quarters of a decade. You patiently waited for me each and every day in the chilled and gloomy basement. Sometimes I would visit you, but more often not. You made move after move with me… North Dakota, Colorado, and then North Dakota once again. You have withstood the pounding of my children’s feet, of mine, and even my husband’s as he proved again and again that he will always be faster than me.
I had to bribe my husband to buy you for me, but thankfully he has a kind, forgiving heart because I rarely, if ever, followed through on my end of the bargain.
I love that you decided to go out as fiesty as ever. You caught me totally off-guard as I was taking a walking break (3.7 mph). What a sense of humor you had — haha, LOOK! She has to run at a full-out sprint just to keep up with me — TRICKY. I’m pretty sure that was no 3.7 mph. I think you did yourself in, though, judging by that burning smell you let out. And the grand finale? Just shutting off in the middle of my workout? I am guessing you wanted to go out with a bang? You will be missed during these harsh, long, North Dakota winters.
Treadmill is survived by my own two feet, in a pair of New Balance shoes.