The consensus is that treadmills suck. Running outside is always to be preferred to running on a treadmill. To say that one likes to run inside is akin to saying that one enjoys prostate exams. A cold silence descends on the staff meeting when you trot either one of those gems out. From what I understand. Solid knowledge of one’s urinary tract (or is it track?) health is important, just like solid training during the winter months.
If you want to be solid, want to be exact about time, distance, pace, etc., nothing is better than a treadmill. If you want to run on a surface specifically designed to be gentle on hips, knees, and backs, the treadmill is the place. If you happen to have poor depth perception coupled with sub-par coordination and only passable balance, there are things you can do on a treadmill that you just can’t do outside. Like really descend into yourself during a run in a way that leaves behind the cold glass and hard concrete of the gym and the spiny bare limbs and grey grass outside the window.
Ten minutes into my treadmill to heaven this afternoon, familiar opening strains of Tibetan throat singers filled my ear buds. Mike D, MCA, and Ad-Rock were soon to follow with a rhyme about the new day dawning. Typically, this track ranks a skip when it shuffles up on my run. But Airman’s yet-to-be published opus contains a reference to the Bodhisattva Vow that led me to understand that it is more than a Beastie Boys song title. The Bodhisattva Vow is the pledge by the Bodhisattva (enlightened one) not to enter Nirvana (bliss) until all sentient beings are free from samsara (the cycle of life) and achieve enlightenment. The loving self-sacrifice I had previously assumed to be a unique characteristic of the Christ is nothing of the sort. It belongs to the Buddha as well.
Both, in order to enter fully into their identity, had to surrender their identity. How the hell does that work? Why would someone do that? What does it mean for me that the Bodhisattva is standing at the door, holding it open, waiting for me to go through first? Does he mind that I have stopped off for a Grande Half-Caf No-Whip Lowfat Mocha? As the rhythm of my legs matched the beat of the music, the throat singer and the Brooklynites entered that space in my head where experience transcends thought. The breath I drew into my lungs pulled the spirit into my chest. It was better to be inside on a treadmill.
when i enter such a dreamstate on a treadmill, i generally step on a non-moving part adjacent to a moving part and have an epiphany around my place on the continuum between movment and stoppage.
This is the cycle of samsara.