When I was going through my intellectual hippie stage (circa 1973) I read a lot of the classics, including Dante's Inferno. After today's deadmill run, I can attest that he had it all wrong, probably because treadmills weren't invented in 1310. I did 8 miles on the mill because it was raining. I kept waiting, hoping against hope, that the rain would stop. It didn't. So here's my view of hell:
You are on the treadmill, and it's set for 8 miles. You have no tv and nothing to look at but a closet door. You get within 1/4 mile of finishing the run, and your treadmill suddenly sets back to 0 and you have to do it all over again. And again. And again. At least, that's the way it felt. And oh, yeah-your Ipod? Well you do have one, but the only song it plays is the Pina Colada song. Over and over and over.
That's what my run felt like. And about 15 minutes after I finished the run, the rain stopped. And my new tv was delivered later this afternoon. Sigh.