Endurance

Ron Koppelberger

Endurance

The misery of frequent voyage into the realms of pain and adrenalin rush was the most powerful motivation in Tom Snaps blameless existence. He pushed the rational of preventive measure to its limits. The treadmill hummed and Tom pushed and pumped, strove and exhaled in near exhaustion. The quality of faith in the machine, in the substance of obsession and wild allay with the soul of a healthy belief consolidated his balance, the balance of desire for perfection and hazy mists of ascending vapor, passage to the sweaty besides of raging rebellion and good, healthy exercise.
The deeply satisfying bloom of flushed checks and visages of lean demeanor were the favored choices of those who exercised with ceaseless abandon he thought. Thirty-five miles and counting, the treadmill continued to hum and somewhere deep in the mechanism of metal essential, a stray screw unwound. The divine communion obeyed the holy orders of synchronous movement and straining sinew.
He jogged on the rotating rubber mat and the beast hummed in confederate accord. A shoelace, the fetters of expensive running shoes hung loose, bouncing from the rotating track to the top of his shoe. Tap, Tap, Tap,……the screw continued to unwind. He pushed and pushed until his exhaustion bode fate. The loose shoelace caught in the plastic and metal mesh, the gears of the rolling consul, of miles undone, at thirty-seven point five miles caused him to fall. Smash and a yank…….his ankle twisted and snapped with a dull pop. He fell into the guard rail and his forehead bore the impact. Delirious, he lay on the humming beast, the mat blood spattered and a scarlet veil trickling into his eyes.
The lockout key remained in place and the beast continued to hum, rolling against his skin in Indian burn and exacting tangle. Finally, after a moment that seemed to be hours he yanked the lockout key and the beast stopped. Smeared in crimson and maroon the black rubber mat cooled, settling in sated measure and degree. Crawling away he made it to the utility room where he kept his tools. Fumbling around for a moment he found what he needed.
Dragging himself back to the treadmill he swung the heavy hammer killing the beast and in turn reconciling his desire for perfection, in triumph of the obsessive demon in guise of utility.wolffray.blogspot.com