So… the other night something pretty traumatizing happened.
I’ve been feeling lately like I need to switch up my workouts. This is really code for me needing to run more, but I often look for every excuse not to do that.
I was feeling a little brave, and knew that I needed to come home from work and have a good sweat session. I decided the best way to do this was to go for a run. Just do it. You know?
Because it was rainy, I thought I would hop on the treadmill. No big deal. It was pretty boring, pretty sweaty, and pretty uneventful. I was almost finished when my darling four year old walked in the room and asked if he could hang out in there with me until I was done.
I should have sent him on his merry little way. But hindsight is always 20/20, right? Instead, I agreed to let him stay. He wanted to hop on the elliptical. I know a lot of you out there are probably saying, “Hey! That’s a bad idea!” but really, it’s fine. He knows he’s not allowed on it without either me or my husband present, and he’s big enough now that he actually reaches both the foot pedals and the handles just fine. He can’t go super fast, and we’re teaching him healthy habits. He loves to exercise, and this is one of our bonding activities.
I gave him the go-ahead, but told him he would need to walk around in front of the treadmill to get to the elliptical. You see, there’s probably less than a foot between the back of the treadmill and our wall. I knew that wouldn’t be enough space for him to pass by.
After about two minutes, he started complaining about being hot and wanted to take off one of his shirts. “Hey, your call buddy.” I told him. “But mama only has four minutes left and after four minutes, we’re both done.”
He seemed to be cool with that, so he hopped down. Before I knew what was happening, and before I could wheeze out any instructions, he started to take a small step. That step happened to be on the moving belt of my treadmill.
I probably don’t have to explain what happened next, but we lived it so the least you can do is read about it.
He went flying into the wall. Immediately. I could hear his head bang against the wall followed by the loudest scream I think I’ve ever heard come out of his mouth. Needless to say, I lost my footing, and I went down. Think Apple Music commercial; Taylor Swift.
What’s more, the minute my body hit the belt, it flipped me over, and into him, and banged us both into the wall again.
I now understand why they encourage you to wear those safety clips while you’re on those types of machines. I wasn’t wearing it, and half of my body was still lying on the treadmill as the belt was still moving. I kept trying to brace my arm on the side, but my arm kept getting burned by the moving belt, and into the wall again we would go. As all of this was going on, I couldn’t sit up because my legs were pinned under the foot pedals of the elliptical. I kept trying to grab my screaming son, while yelling frantically for my husband, while trying to assess the amount of blood that I assumed was spilling from Cooper. It was horrible.
Thankfully, Chad heard us and came running. After we got the damn machine to stop moving, we were able to really sit up and assess the situation. Thankfully, I was more banged up than Cooper. After a lot of hugs, a quick trip to the doctor, and some vodka later – we were okay.
This is why running is always a bad idea.