Treadmill. Generator. Zombies. And then it occurred to me. Maybe it's just me.

3 years ago

This post first appeared on Mona Andrei’s personal blog,


I don’t know what goes on in your house but one of the most common expressions in mine is:

You are NOT allowed to blog about this.

I hate that expression.

I get to hear it from my teenagers during evening meals together and during our “driving talks”. It’s both limiting and a privilege at the same time because while it means that I can’t write about what’s going on in their fascinating minds, it also means that we’re going through a family milestone of sorts. I’m a big fan of family milestones because they remind me of where I belong.

All that to say that I have a really good “unibrow” story to tell you but I’m under oath. You can thank my teenagers for that.

PS. If you know me in real life, feel free to ask me about it because my strict orders are to “not blog about it”. (Gotta love loopholes.)

And in the spirit of digression…

Most of you don’t know this about me but I have a love / hate relationship with the gym. I LOVE working out. Hate how I have to fit it in (almost) every day. And the reason for the hate part is because life is busy and it’s not always easy to find an hour and a half for yourself during peak hours. And by peak hours I mean any hour that you’re awake.

My biggest challenge at the gym is cardio time. Call it boredom . . . call it whatever you want but for those 15 minutes before and after my workout I have to play games with myself to override the hamster’s chastising screams about all the things I SHOULD be doing.

You know, you SHOULD be writing right now.

It snowed. You SHOULD be shoveling your driveway.

The teens will be home in six hours. You SHOULD be planning dinner.


So I have this game I play with myself while I’m on the treadmill to help minimize the boredom:

I pretend that the earth is under zombie attack.

In this scenario the entire world is not allowed to use electricity because it acts as a zombie magnet. My super-hero job during this fantasy is to run on the treadmill, which is actually a generator, so that everyone can enjoy the things that this particular zombie apocalypse denies us – like hot showers. (Possibly I’ve watched too many episodes of The Walking Dead.)

Why am I telling you this? Because something dawned on me while I was at the gym this morning …

You know how you take certain things for granted? Well I’ve always just assumed that the zombie game is how EVERYBODY gets through their cardio workouts. Until this morning when I said to this lady that I don’t really know but sort of know because we see each other at the gym almost every day and although we don’t ever actually have real conversations, we kinda do the small talk thing. Except I don’t think that’s going to happen anymore because she looked at me like I’M THE ZOMBIE today after I mentioned to her that, “if it wasn’t for the zombie apocalypse, I probably wouldn’t get past three minutes on the treadmill.”

Possibly I should start looking for another gym.


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