This week’s low is kind of pathetic. And by kind of, I mean extremely pathetic. 

I am a walker. By that, I mean that I like to process everything while I’m moving – information, emotions, conversations, etc. I feel like my brain can work better if I think and walk. Just thinking is too overwhelming. Walking while I think slightly distracts me from my thoughts – not enough to interfere with my ability to process them, but just enough to muffle the craziness and prevent me from getting overwhelmed.

Anyways, Sunday night, I was walking on one of the treadmills in the White building gym after my workout. I had my phone open, and I was half-heartedly scrolling through tiktok. I wasn’t really paying attention; I was reviewing econ concepts in my head and stressing about my test on Tuesday.

I was going down a mental spiral; it went something like, “I’m not going to do well on this test, then I’m going to get a bad grade in the class, then I’m not going to get into law school because my GPA was bad, then all of my life goals will fall apart and I’ll end up living in my parents’ basement and working some corporate job that I absolutely hate.” I was sweating; both from my self-induced stress and from the excessively hot and humid atmosphere inside the White building.

I had been in my own little world of anxiety for about five minutes when I got a text from the guy I liked. He said he was in the gym, and we should go get food after his workout. I told him I was there too, walking on a treadmill, and we agreed to meet up when he was done lifting.

I spent another twenty minutes alone with my thoughts. By that time, I was deep in my brain-panic zone, convinced I was going to fail my exam (and consequently, fail life). I was completely disconnected from what was happening around me.  

All of a sudden, I realized there was a person standing in front of my treadmill. The guy.

I jumped and let out an involuntary yelp of fear. I had been lost in my thoughts, and it was a shock to come back to reality and see him standing there. I decided I needed to stop walking to collect myself. 

Unfortunately for me, one cannot simply decide they need to stop walking when they’re on a treadmill. Treadmills don’t read minds.

I stopped walking, but the treadmill did not stop moving.

As I was pulled closer and closer to the edge of the rotating strip of fabric, I realized I had to do something or I would end up on my face on the floor.

I knew I had to step off of the treadmill, onto the side. At that point, I was in auto-pilot mode. My brain had shut off; there were no thoughts in my head. Unfortunately, I only managed to get one foot off the treadmill. I planted my right foot firmly on the side, on the little plastic strip next to the conveyor belt. Safety. 

My other foot, however, remained on the moving belt of the treadmill (very much not safe). It was being pulled away from my stationary foot at an alarming rate. I was dangerously close to doing a middle split, and I felt the muscles in my inner thighs straining as my left foot was pulled backwards, towards the end of the treadmill. My right foot remained on that little island of stationary plastic.

To avoid the dreaded split, or worse, falling and being ejected off of the back of the treadmill, my left foot was doing a little shuffle, trying to stay close to my right foot. It was instinct to hop my left foot next to my right, but since my left foot was still on the belt and the treadmill kept moving, I had to keep hopping to stay upright.

After about thirty seconds of struggling, I managed to move my left foot to the side of the treadmill, behind my right. I was standing on the side of that treadmill like a gymnast stands on a balance beam, panting, from exertion and panic. 

My shuffle-hop and almost falling on my face would have been embarrassing no matter what. Seriously, who can’t walk on a treadmill? But the worst part is that the guy I like was standing right there the whole time, watching the situation unfold. Now, he probably thinks I’m an uncoordinated, unathletic idiot. 

Long story short, I will never be stepping foot on a treadmill again – especially when someone might unexpectedly come and talk to me. 

My high of this week is that after it’s over, I won’t have any more exams until finals. Thank god, because I’m burnt out, and my economic textbook is ripping apart because it’s been opened so much. 

Side note: I got a 76 on my exam. I don’t want to talk about it. Yes, I cried.