Day 154

More than once, I've contemplated ditching this blog, as it seems that the time I waste spend writing it might be better applied to other things: working on stories someone actually pays me to write, for example... or reading journal articles I need to understand for an upcoming workshop. Chopping veggies for tomorrow's dinner. Sleeping. Plucking my eyebrows...

But recently it dawned on me that it's kind of cool to keep all of these thoughts in one place so that, someday, my boys might read them and realize that, in addition to being the lady who wiped their *sses, read them books, cut their mangoes 

(and hosted Mos Def dance parties in the kitchen), I, too, was/am a person. A woman with hopes, dreams, fears and a mostly irreverent sense of humor. That said, the mom in me can't help but to use this forum, on occasion, to impart important life lessons. 

Lessons such as this: don't jump on a moving treadmill. 

Which is just what I did today. Yes, I am fairly certain that the literature that comes free with every treadmill purchase tells you not to mount, or dismount, a treadmill in motion. Here's my secret: I do it all the time. Sometimes it's to tie my shoe... sometimes it's because I left the water bottle on the weight bench. Today it was to take off my pants. Let me explain: My legs were incredibly itchy (this sometimes happen when I don't run for a week or so - it's AWFUL) and I thought that removing my spandex-y capris might help. Note: I was alone in my basement. Another note: My cotton boy-short "underpants" (as we now call them 'round here) offered more coverage than the volleyball shorts my BFF from college had to wear on court.

Anyway... while I've never had a problem hopping on a belt moving along at 7.3 MPH, today was different. Today, I was distracted by my iPod. Today, I bit it, and the treadmill dragged me along, "road"-rashing my left knee (as seen in this photo above), my right knee (which you can't see) and a sizable patch of my right hip (also concealed). I am fine. Actually, I immediately got up and started running again. In my underwear. Then I realized absurdity of the situation and also that my legs were still incredibly itchy. I wrapped up the run. Two miles. 

So, my dear boys and kind readers, let this be a lesson to you: don't jump on a moving treadmill. Literally. But I think there's a bigger, metaphorical lesson here too: like don't get swept away on the treadmill of life. But wait: you don't want to let life pass you by. Hmm...  Maybe what I'm really trying to say is make this your motto. Or just keep your pants on.