I have my treadmill, and I love it.
It almost didn’t fit – the official measurements were a little off, and it took a lot of futzing to fit into its very little space (100 lbs of awkward). What we thought was condensation turned out to be lubricant leaking when it was transported on its side, and I had to let that outgas for a few days before I could work in my office.
It’s all good now, and I love walking while I work. I find it invigorating, and more relaxing than working out when I’m watching the time. Now my time is about writing, which I love, rather than exercising, which is an obligation (on a machine. If I’m outside it’s a joy).
My body feels comfortable and quiet, I have more energy in my hands, and ideas flow more easily.
I stand beside a window, where I can watch birds, and squirrels marauding in the garden. I think an early spring pot of flowers on a table outside might be a nice addition, in a week or two.
The pace for walking while writing needs to be slow, but I find the slowest setting glacial, like that exhausting stroll through a museum. So I turn it up, a little for writing, a lot for editing, if I’m mostly reading. Of course, cursor accuracy vanishes at that point… but it’s fun going faster.
The worst part has been stepping off the treadmill and staggering, as my body expects the ground to be moving. A friend suggested I slow it down first, to let my legs adjust before stopping, and that helps.
Complications I haven’t figured out yet: which glasses are better for this distance (computer or regular multifocals); how to drink coffee while on the move; and whether I need to put a phone nearby. I’m not one to chat on the phone, and I often ignore it if I’m working, but there’s an awkwardness to leaping off the treadmill to answer it, and perhaps I’d chat more if I was in motion.
Mostly I ignore those complications, and simply walk and write, as I discover that walking helps me travel longer distances in my head.
Maureen

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