When The Treadmill Calls It Quits

What happens when your determination outlasts your exercise gear?

- Caron Golden

I’ve always envied people who can’t sit still, who live to exercise. Growing up by the beach, my idea of bliss wasn’t surfing or playing beach volleyball. It was sprawling on my bed with a big book and something to eat. I could do it daily for hours. The family joke was that to punish me when I misbehaved, my mum actually had to send me outside to play rather than to my room. When I was upright, I was probably cooking or baking. P.E. classes were to be endured. Running or jogging during P.E.? Well, you can’t imagine how many times a month I somehow got my period during high school. Oh, those cramps!

I wasn’t totally sedentary, and I somehow managed to grow up with pretty normal body weight. But the weight was always an issue and it ballooned once I hit my 30s. I joined gyms. I quit gyms. I tried yoga. I walked my dogs. I bought a treadmill for the garage, then let it gather dust. But none of it was enough. The weight just piled on to the point where I refused to be photographed and relied on clothes that had a stretch and no zippers.