I wanted to cover 3 miles on the treadmill. I warmed up and moved into my pace.

6.1mph.

There was this dude fixing an exercise bike ten feet from me, banging on a pedal with a hammer. Constant.

I gritted my teeth, lumbered, slowed.

4.5mph.

Then there was this heartburn. Perhaps warming some broccoli and onions in a skillet for lunch wasn’t such a great idea.

3mph.

The constant metal on metal pinging made my skin crawl. Too hot to run outside at this hour. I had to sweat him out of my system. I dug into some easy intervals.

1 minute at 7mph.

The pedal on the exercise bike finally gave in -- or he did, I didn’t care which.

2 minutes at 3mph.

Out the window, two portly dudes walked out of the chicken wing place next door, chatted in the parking lot.

1 minute at 7mph.

They sucked on straws that disappeared inside movie-size styrofoam cups.

2 minutes at 3mph.

They swished their cups in circles so they could get at whatever was left of their sodas. They were younger than me. Wide as a car door.

1 minute, 30 seconds at 7mph.

Maybe they had salads. Maybe that was Diet Coke in their cups.

2 minutes at 3mph.

Maybe it's in their genes. Maybe they're fit for their size. Have excellent blood pressure.

1 minute, 30 seconds at 7.5mph.

A third guy joins them. Tall. Thin. Full head of hair.

2 minutes at 3.5mph.

Gangly guy’s hands were stuffed in his pockets.

1 minute, 30 seconds at 8mph.

2 minutes at 3.5mph.

1 minute, 30 seconds at 8mph.

2 minutes at 3.5mph.

I went 4 miles, thinking and smiling at the lies we tell ourselves.