Do People Fall Off of Treadmills at the Gym?

I can’t be the only one…

I'm not a gym guy. I've tried several times, but I can't make it work for me the way my friends can. My mind gets overwhelmed and discombobulated every time I enter one and try to use the machines.

I know, making it a habit would probably help. Over time I'd memorize how to use each one and gain more confidence.

But I ask you, is it really worth it to commit to a gym?

Why are so many people willing to spend their time and energy moving their bodies, sweating like the crazy, stuck inside of a building?

"Spinning" on bikes that don't move. Running on treadmills that go nowhere while watching HGTV.

What are we, human hamsters?

It makes me want to walk around, yelling at people, "Stop working so hard to go nowhere! I know it's cold outside but have some balls. Get a real bike and ride! Ride to an actual place. Move forward. Go somewhere in life!"

To be fair, I can see going to a gym as a win if it's the only way you get motivated to exercise.

You get to drive, not walk or bike, to a building that is enclosed, shut off from the real world, where you can escape.

Like taking a trip to Exercise Land.

Walking in, you see beautiful in-shape bodies, a few that could use some work, and the gym wakes up your senses. And your jealousy.

"I gotta spin and lift too so I can look like all of these Greek Gods."

You smell the motivation in the air. Or is that athlete's foot? Either way, you're pumped.

That's how I try to feel when I enter a gym. It's usually one a friend invites me to in hopes I fall in love with the overpriced sweat house.

It all seems so magical. So, encouraging. Until I walk up to my nemesis.

The treadmill.

Theoretically, I should be able to step on it and just start walking. I'm sure that's how they were back in the olden' days.

Everything has to be so damn advanced now that I have to anxiously go through pressing buttons and choosing settings just to start.

I only want to get moving so I can go nowhere like everyone else.

The super-fit woman to the right of me who clearly has been running for seventeen straight hours tries not to watch me fumble around with the treadmill motherboard.

The guy on the left just gives a smirk. I bet he's thinking, "Look, a new guy. What a loser. He probably wastes all of his time running outside. In...nature."

Once I figure out a setting that will make the treadmill move, I can finally start walking. The choices don't end there, though.

I have to choose a TV station to watch. Here I am taking a stroll and channel surfing. Trying to enjoy the multi-tasking, first-world problem of what to watch while breathing hard and sweating.

After going through all the channels, you know where I end up.

HGTV.

Walking turns to jogging. The feeling is incredible. The treadmill surface is softer than the hard concrete, so I get the false sense that I can run farther than I ever can out in the elements.

I'm jogging while watching a couple remodel their mid-century modern home. Continually checking how many imaginary miles I've completed here in this building of "No pain, no gain."

One mile. I ran one mile. It feels like ten. Probably because I'm still in the same place I started.

Slowing down to a walk again seems like an excellent idea. Change up the pace, like interval training.

Boy, was I wrong.

As I ease back into a walk, I start feeling dizzy. Do you feel like this on one of these things too?

Like a fool, I blame it on HGTV.

Changing the channel will help. I reach for the channel button, the room spins, and I fall forward onto the treadmill.

Or is it back as the moving surface pulls me down and onto the floor?

What do you know, the treadmill surface stops moving. No buttons to press. I just had to fall on my face.

The lady on the right looks surprised for a second but can't stop running, she's too close to completing her five thousand miles.

The guy on the left keeps running but yells out, "You okay, dude?!"

I get myself up slowly, give a shy wave to my super athletic neighbors, and hobble away in shame.

My knee hurts from the fall but not as much as—let's say it together—my pride.

Please tell me falling off treadmills is something that happens at gyms regularly.

It can't only be my failed attempt at running in place.