One of my many (albeit minor) fears is that as I run on the treadmill, I will slip and somehow get sucked off. I could only imagine how incredibly painful, not to mention embarrassing, it would be as I landed on my head, knee, arm or whatever while all the pretty people at my gym just continued jogging away, pretending not to notice the klutz in the shlubby outfit. Until last night.
As usual, I approached the treadmill from slightly to the side. I looked over my shoulder to tell Husband something as I stepped onto the belt, and then I was confused. Why was I falling? Why did I fall on my arm and leg again as I tried to stand up? And damn, where was the skin that used to cover my elbow? Help! I made some sort of pathetic noises and the treadmill sucked me down. The woman on the treadmill in front of me turned around as Husband ran over and turned the treadmill off.
No, I didn't turn it on. Some motherfucker just left it running. Of course, I should have looked before I got on it, but generally I don't expect the machine to be going. "Who the fuck left this one?" I muttered. (OK, it wasn't a mutter, but more of a loud growl that everyone around me could hear.) The woman on the treadmill in front of me turned back to her machine very quickly. Uh huh. I got your number, lady.
For the record, it hurts like fuck when you fall over and over again on a treadmill. I think this must have been worse than a regular fall, since I probably would not have tried to stand up again if I knew the damn thing was on and would just throw me back down. And yes, from now on I will make very certain that the machine I step on it not already in motion. My new bruises from the incident are shaping up nicely, though.