I sprint, but I don’t actually go anywhere. It’s interval training, I turn the treadmill on high and leg it as fast as I can for 60 seconds and then hop off for 60 seconds, back on for 60, off for 60. I do this for 20 minutes.
A trainer told me it turns your body into a fat-burning incinerator for the entire day. It will just cremate whatever you put into it, like a piggish steam engine. Naturally, I will do my sprints on a Monday and assume that this means my body will continue to burn up fat at this supersonic speed for the rest of my life.
I have tried to do it outdoors but all the stopping and starting looks strange. I look like I’ve just heard a family member is gravely ill, but I keep changing my mind about how much I care.
The fat burning is one perk. I also love to sweat. The first few beads are the best. My energy levels sky rocket. Suddenly I’m totally prepared if the treadmill breaks loose from its floor fixtures and we head off out the door.
I’m a machine. I can’t stop, I won’t stop, I’m unstoppable. Until of course my 60-second interval is over and then I stop immediately because I’m not willing to do a minute more than what I agreed with myself earlier.
