The Treadmill, Mickey and Me

 

You may be aware than I am a Disney fan. And I am always excited when we begin planning our next trip to Orlando.

Martin likes to make encouraging speeches at our meetings. “It’s a great physical challenge and I hope you will all take the time to prepare.” This inspirational message came several years ago – back when I still believed in magic. And when I believed I could become the athlete I hoped was inside me somewhere.

Jennifer was a member of a local gym at the time and agreed to help me get started.

“So, Nancy (the trainer and I were already best friends), what parts of your body to you want to focus on?” “Mostly the fat parts,” I quipped which resulted in his very weak smile.

“I assume you are not involved in any current exercise program?” “An astute assumption,” I replied. And received an even weaker smile.

“Your daughter has her membership fees billed directly to her credit card. Will that work for you?” “Yes, bill mine directly to her credit card, too.” At this point Jennifer kicked me under the desk. It was my first training injury.

If guests at DisneyWorld walk an average of 9-12 miles a day, then the treadmill was my path to success.

I stepped onto the belt and faced a dashboard with more buttons and lights than Magic Kingdom’s Mission to Mars. I set my pace on the electronic display and we chatted as we walked side by side in the air conditioning. I should have joined a gym earlier.

After 30 minutes Jennifer engaged “cool down” and the speed on her treadmill slowly reduced as she finished her walk. I followed her lead but my speed didn’t reduce slowly. It didn’t reduce at all. 

Jennifer glanced at the display. “It reduces to its minimum of two miles per hour but your fastest speed WAS two miles per hour. It can’t go any slower.”

I decided to switch to endurance training because I wanted to stay with the team as we made that winding trek from the gates of Hollywood Studios to Star Wars: Galaxy’s Edge.

I faced the Ski Machine with determination, knowing I was building my legs and upper body strength. I propped my book on the console and read as I trekked over the imaginary snow. Then, my machine abruptly stopped. I pressed the button again and continued my latest Grisham novel. And again, my machine stopped. Jennifer rushed over when she noticed me kicking the machine and offered her advice.

“Don’t prop your book on the stop button, Mom.”

My gym membership was short-lived.

I have never managed to go to DisneyWorld in good shape. At the end of each day in the park I have tired legs, painful feet and a strong desire to evict grandchildren so I can ride in the stroller. And yet, it is still the happiest place on earth.

NOTE - Some of my grandchildren are there today! I hope one of them eats an ice cream in the shape of Mickey’s head in my honor.

 

 

Coming summer of 2022 - a visit to Disney Paris.