Monday, September 27, 2010

Treadmill Fantasies

That’s right -- fantasies.

Sorry to disappoint, but they don’t involve sex.

As I’ve said before, I have a severe case of Cardio-Induced ADD, and I believe everyone has their brain as their biggest obstacle in exercise adherance.

Eight minutes, one second. Eight minutes, two seconds. I am so tired.

Not really. Just bored.

There is no scenery on the treadmill, so your mind is free (and again, bored). You don’t have to watch for stoplights, traffic, curbs, puddles or dog stuff you don’t want to step in.

So if my playlist is just right, I turn my brain from BORED to JAZZED!

How? Treadmill fantasies.

My top treadmill fantasies feature moi doing the following:

• Ballroom dancing, on Dancing with the Stars of course (with me in the place of Cheryl Burke).

• Me and Mr Right singing karaoke together and the whole bar cheering like mad. (Neither of us can sing, so this is an true fantasy.)

• On one occasion in a hotel fitness center, there was a weirdo staring at me. My fantasy that day was the stuff Charlie’s Angels is made up – I was a black belt and threw his slimy butt down the stairs. (There were no stairs, but I added them; you can do that in fantasies.)

• Teaching a cardio dance workshop a la Juliane Arney.

• Crossing the finish line at the NYC Marathon with my entire family and all my friends there. I’m running FAST and I’m sweaty but not limping or in tears like I probably would be if I ever did it for real.

• Me giving a speech at the United Nations (Angelina wasn’t available).

• Calling my husband from the car on the way to the state capitol to pick up my lottery winnings. Making plans with him about where to meet me (the airport), where we’ll go (Laguna Beach Ritz Carlton) and what to take (nothing, I’m buying everything new).

• Shaking hands with Regina Benjamin.

• Telling Oprah how I became so successful and why I’m giving all my money away a la Warren Buffet.

image via Landice Treadmills