Tread Lightly

In today’s blog post, I’m sharing a short story I wrote years ago, published in Chicken Soup for the Soul: Laughter is the Best Medicine. We can all use a chuckle from time to time, and this is one of my fondest (funny) memories of my daughter Nikki.

Tread Lightly

“Are you sure you want to come with me?” My fifteen-year-old daughter couldn’t miss the doubt in my tone. Nikki thought exercise was on par with slow death by torture.

My weekday trips to the gym were always a lone experience. I taught the 5:00 a.m. aerobics class before I went to my job as a middle-school teacher, and no one wanted to join me on those early mornings.

But this was mid-morning on a Saturday. “Yeah,” she said. “I haven’t spent much time with you lately.” She shrugged into a sweatshirt, snatched up an oversized water bottle, and looked at me expectantly.

“Okay, let’s go then.” Doubtful or not, I was grateful my teenage daughter still wanted to hang out with me. I had assumed when she hit high school, I would no longer be considered cool.

We drove the ten minutes to the gym while Nikki chatted about a school assignment and her classes. Suddenly, I had visions of her becoming my new workout partner. We’d become mother/daughter gym rats and build a whole new relationship based on our mutual love of exercise.

The two-story structure was fairly crowded, as expected. Universal machines, racquetball courts, aerobics classrooms, and the administrative office were on the first floor. “I’m going upstairs to the treadmills,” I said. “What do you want to do?”

“Treadmill, just like you.” She headed for the stairs, and I followed.

The exercise machines were lined up around the perimeter of the loft-like second story, overlooking the first floor. Behind the treadmills, weight machines, dumbbells, and weight benches were set up in front of the mirrored wall—congested, mostly with men. I always found it a little intimidating to lift weights in that atmosphere, which is why I preferred the treadmill on busy Saturday mornings. As long as the men were behind me, I could ignore them.

We found two unoccupied machines, side by side. I placed my water bottle in the holder, hung a face towel over the handrail, and took off my sweatshirt. Nikki’s water bottle was too large to fit into the holder, so she set it on the floor and climbed onto her own treadmill, confusion knitting her brow.

Stepping over to her, I gave a quick rundown of the controls. “You might want to clip the safety key to your shirt,” I instructed her.

“Why?”

“It’ll stop the treadmill if you fall.”

She rolled her eyes. “That’s not going to happen.”

I knew from experience it was useless to argue with her. And really, I’d never actually seen anyone fall, so I figured she had a point. I eyed her sweatpants. “Do you have shorts under those?”

“Nuh-uh.” She fiddled with the controls.

“You’re going to get pretty warm,” I warned her as I climbed onto my machine.

She watched me set up my program. “I’ll be fine. How fast do you go?”

“Just start slow, kiddo. You’re not used to working out.”

Nikki wasn’t very competitive, so it surprised me she was mirroring my speed. When I increased mine, she increased hers. Sweat began to pop up on her forehead and upper lip, and her cheeks were turning a bright shade of red. Then I noticed her eyeing the water bottle she’d set on the floor.

“Don’t do it,” I warned.

She glanced at me. “What?” she managed to huff out.

“Don’t reach for that bottle while you’re moving. If you need a drink, stop the treadmill first.”

With an eye roll (which she’d mastered over the last couple of years) and a head shake, she ignored me. She managed to snag the water bottle, if not gracefully, at least competently. Maybe I wasn’t giving her enough credit.

I increased my speed again and focused on measured breaths. In through my nose… one, two, three; out through my mouth… one, two, three. I tuned out the weights clanking behind me and my daughter’s pounding footsteps beside me. Then I heard a loud thump followed by a rhythmic thump, thump, thump. It took a moment to realize the noise wasn’t coming from behind me, but beside me.

Looking over at Nikki, I was struck by the bizarre sight of her running on her knees. Thump, thump, thump… She had one hand clutching the handrail for dear life and the other holding the water bottle. Panic filled her eyes as she looked at me while desperately attempting to keep up the pace on her knees. If she let go of the handrail, she’d take quite a tumble.

I jumped off my treadmill and rushed to hit the pause button on hers. The machine slowed, and Nikki’s knee-run slowed with it until it finally stopped. I helped her stand as she hugged the water bottle to her chest.

“Are you okay?” I took her free hand and looked down to inspect her knees.”

“I’m fine,” she said with a grimace, her face beet red. No doubt a combination of exertion and embarrassment. “Guess I should’ve listened to you about the water bottle.”

A grin split my face as laughter bubbled up from my chest. I tried to stop it but couldn’t. It gained momentum, and the harder I tried to contain it, the worse it got.

“Seriously?” Nikki said, her own lips twitching.

“I’m sorry,” I choked out. “But if you could’ve seen yourself running on your knees…” After a few moments, I was finally able to control myself.

“That was quite a move,” said a voice behind us.

We both turned to see a young bodybuilder sitting on the weight bench behind us.

“What do you call it?” he asked with a good-natured grin.

Nikki had a pained expression on her face as she ignored the question. “Can we go home now?”

That was the last time Nikki joined me at the gym. My dreams of having her as my lifetime workout buddy dwindled in one moment of mishap. Her exercising days were over.

Share this...

Facebook

Pinterest

Twitter