Fuck the Treadmill

Despite advances in treadmill technology, the exercise conveyor belt still feels repressive and completely outdated. So fuck it.

Ascension
5 min readJun 3, 2019

A Brief History of the Treadmill

If the treadmill feels a little outdated and perhaps reformatory in nature, that’s not a coincidence. Invented in 1818 by English civil engineer Sir William Cubitt, the treadmill was originally designed as a paddle wheel that prisoners would step on to pump water or crush grain (hence the name treadmill). Similar to a modern StairMaster, prisoners would work in shifts of up to eight hours climbing step after endless step, often enduring injury and illness along the way.

An original, prison treadmill. Photo courtesy of PBS.

At some point, however, the times began to change. England soon deemed the treadmill too cruel, while other prison systems utilized harsher forms of punishment such as picking cotton or crushing rock. It wasn’t until the 1960's that treadmills would grow culturally popular again, fueled this time by the at-home exercise equipment craze.

The treadmill we know and love comes courtesy of William Staub and Dr. Kenneth Cooper. After reading Cooper’s 1968 book “Aerobics”, Staub set off to develop a treadmill for use at home that would allow anyone to train for Cooper’s prescribed 8-minute mile. Staub’s earliest models were built under the brand name PaceMaster, with wooden rollers and an on-off switch near the floor. They cost $399 in the 1970s (approx. $1,900 dollars today). By the 80’s he was selling them in larger quantities, and again the numbers exploded in the 90’s. Now more than 50 million people say they’ve used a treadmill in the previous year as of 2016, and the clunky devices make up 40% of all sales in the retail fitness equipment market.

Wholesale sales (consumer segment) of treadmills in the U.S. from 2007 to 2018 (in million U.S. dollars) Provided by Statista

Clearly treadmills are still serving a purpose. They’re organized in neat rows at the gym with motors humming as feet stomp in rhythmic succession. Your childhood friend’s basement houses one, perhaps collecting dust in the corner, or instead still in use by their mom. And Craigslist ads feature top-of-the-line treadmills for sale at astonishingly low prices, often described as “barely used”. They’ve grown to incorporate television screens, bluetooth, and some like the Precor TRM 885 Treadmill cost as much as a gently used car (spoiler alert, it’s $13,000). So why, given their consistent popularity and upgrades, should we be saying “fuck the treadmill”?

Because — in a word — treadmills fucking suck.

So Fuck the Treadmill

What is it about a treadmill that feels so good? What about it’s awkward and confining structure do we find so alluring? Is it the unforgiving surface that sends shocks through our calves? Or maybe it’s the incline/decline features and “training” workouts that promise results in as little as one week. Or maybe still it’s the subconscious fear that if you don’t look at your feet, chances are you’ll trip and eat shit with a sandpaper-like burn to boot.

Yeah…that all sounds appealing.

Chances are there’s a road outside your house with a sidewalk included at no extra charge. It may be hot out there, and there may be hills, but so what? Our ancestors that chose to run put up with a lot more shit than a hill and high temps in the 80’s. While treadmills may provide a safer or simpler environment, they’ve also become a crutch. They’ve led us to wimp out on the daily obstacles of running in exchange for air conditioning and a flat screen TV. They’ve simply led us to become softer versions of ourselves. And in that process, we’ve happily obliged.

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You don’t run — or even workout for that matter — because it’s fun, despite the “Fun Run” t-shirts available for purchase at every 5K event. Your head is pounding, your heart is racing, your feet are screaming, and something probably hurts in a manner that it shouldn’t. But as the singular organism that can outrun anything else on Earth based solely on distance alone, your body was built to run. It’s an ability we’re born with, and one we should utilize to the fullest degree. And when we do in fact choose to run, we should do so while exploring our world. Not as a hamster on the wheel.

So again, fuck the treadmill. It’s isolating and conforming. It’s loud and bulky. It’s bought and used perhaps ten times before being sold to someone else that will provide it with a similar fate; the cycle will always continue.

Before you choose to make the leap and buy a treadmill, ask yourself if you need it. If the only hurdle between you and running outdoors is cold temperatures, buy a sweatshirt instead. If you can’t stand the idea of hills, run them until you no longer care. And if your excuse to lacing up your shoes and heading out the door comes from a place of doubt stored deep within, grow up; surprise yourself, find the courage that you know you have, and run.

Leave the treadmill in a box at the store.

Note: No, not everyone can live without a treadmill. Some of us live in unsafe neighborhoods without access to running spaces, others in harsh environments of extreme heat or cold, and others still need something ready for use based on a busy or tricky schedule. Treadmills can still serve a purpose. But the difference between using a treadmill because it’s a necessity versus a luxury is obvious. Chances are high that you’ll know if you need a treadmill, or simply want one instead. There is a difference.

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Ascension

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