I swore I would do whatever it took to get running again. I need to run. I was going to do whatever it takes, even if it meant running on that blasted treadmill every single day.

Of course, when I got on that treadmill the first day and the belt stopped on the fifth stride, I conceded that my willingness to “do whatever it takes” included sleep depravation, NOT cash depravation. I hadn’t really considered that my wallet would become a factor in my quest for runnability.

It turns out that it is pretty handy to be married to someone handy. One sweet request, accompanied by batting eyelashes, from me sent my husband into the garage to tinker with the treadmill. Looks like my “Do Whatever” attitude will be limited to sleep depravation after all.


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