HELP I AM FALLING NOT RUNNING

To set the scene. Imagine a sixty year old couch potato married to Mr. Fit. Love him as I do, there are times when I could willingly kill him. An example of this is when he tries to talk me into climbing mountains. Well, maybe hills not mountains, but when you are as unfit as me they may as well be Everest.

Let's get to the dreaded day I thought my life was coming to an end. I had previously agreed I needed to get fit and therefore joined our local gym. I got myself all the right clothing, leggings, trainers and nice holdall to carry all my new attire. Off we went a couple of times a week, Mr. Fit nearly killing himself on the treadmill, while I just did a nice comfortable walk for about fifteen minutes. "You will never get fit unless you start jogging on that machine" he informed me. "I know, I am working my way up to it" I replied.

We had a weekend away in a lovely hotel for hubby's birthday, and guess what, it had its own gym." Shall we go for a quick workout before dinner" my lovely hubby suggested. A nice massage in the spar was more what I was planning, but it was his birthday after all.
We decided to warm up on the treadmill. It was quite busy, so much to my delight we were a few machines apart. This meant I would be able to do my normal little walk, without the constant well meant encouragement to go a little faster.

I set the program on my usual level, or so I thought. I put my headphones on and started my walk to Rod Stewart. I was in my own little world. I could see Mr. Fit getting into his stride. He looked my way with that, put a bit of effort into it, kind of look. I just smiled and carried on.

I was just thinking about what I would have for dinner when the machine started to go a little faster. Before I could adjust my step, it moved up a level again. I didn't know what was happening but fear was taking over. The machine seemed to have a mind of it's own, getting faster and faster. I was breaking into a sweat like never before. My heart was pounding and I tried to scream but nothing was coming out. I was running so fast I could hardly breathe. Why was no one coming to my rescue.? I managed to hold on and turn my head towards Mr. Fit. I couldn't believe what I was seeing, he had a big smile on his face and was giving me a thumbs up.

My feet were sliding backwards as I let out a scream. The next thing I knew I was on the floor. When I looked up Mr. Fit was looking down at me, pale faced and anxious.
"Are you okay hon?" he asked.
"Why didn't you come and help me? that stupid machine was out of control" I screamed.
"I thought you were running to get fit like we agreed" he said. "You must have set the wrong programme".
As I looked at his concerned face, I started to see the funny side. "Just call me Mrs. Fit from now on" I laughed.

Two years later I am still a couch potato, but now I always double check the program when I go on the treadmill.