One step beyond: The treadmill and me

HERE I go. It’s treadmill time – 7am.
It can seem far too much like hard work. That’s just the bending over to put my towel down as this expensive piece of kit has nowhere to put it.
The gym is quite quiet at this time in the morning. I lower my head to avert the gaze of the body builders and lycra-clad, super-fit, women who have also hauled their arses (or what there is of them) here as I step on. OK Go, I aint.

Now what speed do I want to start with?
This one must be in miles per hour. Thing is, the last (a while back!) was in kilometres. I feel giddy just thinking about it – having whizzed off the end before I had time to say: “Whoah.”
Aspiring to look and feel like Denise Lewis, wee Jimmy Krankie, with added girth of course, springs to mind instead.
This is relentlessly boring, though isn't it? Such tedium should be cured by watching one of the eight TVs in front or me, or choosing a radio station pumped through my headphones. Actually, I just need to find my headphones or shell out more money for a new pair.
I’m not that bothered about catching up with the Botoxed weather lady or listening to the clinkety-clank of the latest dirge from Hannah Montana.
Still, that could drown out the clankety-clink of my locker key pinned to my extra large T-shirt.
What’s this? Now it wants to display my weight, height and age. What’s a little while lie among friends?
Why can’t it have one of those signs that say: “Stand back, privacy is paramount.” I’m sure I’ve seen them at cash points – or perhaps Weight Watchers – why not here?
Having established that I am 22, 5ft 6 and eight stone four, I select one of the "pre-programmed" options. These will helpfully show the hills I have yet to climb and the distance left to walk or jog. (Did someone say jog?)
Even the “fantasy” me would get bored of that. But my time is livened up by another pratfall as my attention wanders to whether Lorraine Kelly will be on in a minute.
The running deck isn’t actually always long or wide enough for me to use my "natural" stride. As my energy flags, I tend to wobble more than usual. Bouncing off the sides is no fun and now people really are staring.
Going backwards up a "steep" setting as I have been advised to do, seems almost impossible. There should be a "are you sure?" button to stop the likes of me pushing themselves harder and getting stared at more than I should.
It must be doing me some good, though, right? I’d love to say I knew. The calories burned and heart rate display is on the blink again.
Why don’t I try pounding a pavement or running up and down stairs at home instead? Where’s the fun in that? At least here I’m surrounded by other poor deluded, wobbly souls.