Because I learned my lesson

I hadn't run on the treadmill in a long time -- since that graceful night over a month ago when drinking water proved to be a life-threatening activity. Since that night, I have done many forms of cardio -- the bicycle, various elliptical machines with various training emphases, the stair-stepping machine and even running outside. But I haven't gone near the treadmill.

The scars are still there mentally. And on my finger. The little purplish, whitish line reminds me every time I look at my left hand that the treadmill is nothing to laugh at. It fights back.

On Wednesday night, though, I decided it was time. I had finished my circuit of back workouts, and it was time for cardio. After the previous night's leg circuit, I didn't know if the stairs would give me much of a workout before my legs turned to noodles.

I slowly walked to the treadmill and climbed on. I put my water bottle in the holder on the machine, and I began entering the info to begin my workout. As the treadmill started to move, I realized I was actually scared. My heart started beating faster, but it was too soon to put the blame on the speed of the moving belt below me. Still, I increased the speed all the way to 6 miles an hour -- the rate of speed I was running when it all went downhill.

I was freaking myself out with the possibilities of being back on the treadmill: What if I overstep and I'm too close to the front? I'll fall between the front of the treadmill and the actual conveyer. The belt will still move, and it'll skin me up and pull on my hair. ... What if I accidentally step on the edge with one foot? The other foot will hit the treadmill, and I'll fall face first and be flung off the back. The treadmill would manage to scrape me up in that case too. What if I somehow get distracted and get too close to the back? It happened before when I was running with K and looked at my iPod to switch songs. I was able to catch it and run back to the front. But it's different now. Better not look at my iPod. Otherwise I'll fly off the back.

I tried not to think about what I was doing. I tried to concentrate on my breathing as I ran -- three steps inhale, three steps exhale.

I tried to get into my music as Justin's "Damn Girl" blared out of my iPod. I tried to find something to take my attention on one of the 13 TV screens in front of me. But what if I got too into it and didn't realize I was too close to the back of the treadmill?

After five minutes of running, I decided it was a good idea for some water. And to slow down so I could make it through without panicking. After all, I did want to go 15 minutes for my first time back on. I slowed the treadmill to 4 miles an hour. I took a drink of water, and it went down just fine -- no choking.

I sped the treadmill back up to 6 mph. As I did that, I realized my fear was -- for the most part -- gone. I was still a little worried, but nothing like before. I could do it. I ran on the treadmill. For 1.75 miles. For 17 minutes.

Take that, treadmill!