In an effort to encourage my high set goals of a triathlon this year, I have been spending more time then usual at the college rec center. Now, I know what your thinking.....college rec center, and every image that has popped into your mind, I actually see the live version of.

With my I-pod delicately shoved in my ears and music a pumpin I have to constantly fight the urge to sing out loud.

They can't hear the music. You are not a pop star. Now get through the song and don't throw up during crunches....

The treadmill is usually an off limits machine for me. If I want to run, I will go outside. That has always been my train of thought. Today? No train. Not only did I get on the treadmill, I was slamming with not only adrenaline, but Rage Against the Machine when I did. Still resisting the urge to sing loudly with the fast pace, I get a few minutes of fast walking in, and then slam my finger down on the speed button. I just couldn't stop myself.

Maybe 2 minutes into my all out sprint speed I realized:

a) This is waaaaay to fast for me. Dear god I'm going to break the mile record if I don't slow down.

b) Crap I'm going to have a heart attack.

Somewhere in my lack of oxygen to the brain I reach up to the slow down control button and tangle my ipod wires on my arm knocking it from the safe haven of a cup holder. My cute little green i pod is taking turns bouncing off of the 80 mph treadmill and the back of my calf. Still sprinting like a crackhead running from the police, I'm now trying to keep the pace, swing the ipod back towards me using the cords from my ears, all the while trying to focus my eyes on where that damn button has hid.......about maybe 3 minutes of flailing arms and legs one earpiece falls out I realize......

I am yelling out profanities.

Loud because of the volume of music in my ears, and very bad...very very bad words.

Mid 'Oh you mother'...I hear myself because the other earpiece is out of my ear from the wild swinging of wires, and screaming metal is no longer hiding my vulgarness from me. Still at a wild sprint, my split seconds are met by
....the price of my ipod as it continues to take a beating....
....the visual of every home video that I have seen of people flying off the ends of treadmills and slamming into walls....
....and the shocking looks I am getting from the ENTIRE line of people on treadmills and ellipticals to my left.

The profanity doesnt stop. Sweet.

Thank god for the ability of my brain to recognize a giant red panic STOP button directly in the center of the treadmill. I smacked that sucker topping it off by yelling

'NO WAMMIES!'

Instant spaghetti legs as my trama slows. Everybody's in on the show now. I'm gasping for air off the treadmill now, elbows bent with my hands locked on arms over my head. Still only having the wires of the ipod it's smacking me in the stomach, arms have lost all feeling, all the while knowing I have yelled out every bad word ever made, plus made some nice combinations. It ended, and I am instantly faced with the fact that if confronted I am going to have to claim turrets and continue my workout yelling out bad words.

I am committed to this plan and OK with it.