The Treadmill Ate My Ass, or How to Avoid Treadmill-Ass Syndrome

I normally write articles about the things I do in my kitchen, or my orgasm anxiety, but today, I am about to whine for the next 1,000 words about my ass.
Publish date:
April 17, 2013
fitness, body image, the gym, asses

I normally write articles about the things I do in my kitchen, or my orgasm anxiety, but today, I am about to whine for the next 1,000 words about my ass. So if you don't want to read another 989 words about my ass, maybe click here to see that picture of me cuddling a ginormous snake?

If you stay, and I hope you do, I am telling you upfront: You are going to read an entire article about my ass, and why I have come to loathe the treacherous treadmill. But first, a history on me and running, and the progression of my ass.

I have been into fitness since I was 14, but didn't start running until college. I was more of an elliptical person. But the spring break of my sophomore year in college, I tagged along with one of my girlfriends as she visited her grandparents in Florida.

We spent the week in a retirement community. It was great. I love old people. It also handed a much needed blow to my ego and kickstarted my love affair with running. You see, my girlfriend was an avid runner, and on our first day of chilling with Grams by the pool, she invited me along on her daily jog.

I was a cardio fanatic. How hard could it be, right? Wrong. I ran 2 blocks and was doubled over, wheezing. I was frustrated and embarrassed. How could I be “fit” and unable to run more than 200 yards without feeling like my lungs were trying to explode out of my throat?

I am extremely stubborn. I once fought for 20 minutes that dachshund was pronounced DASH-HUND. Turns out, I was wrong. Anyway, from that moment in the retirement home, it was ON with me and running. I was determined to get better at it. And I did, although it took a very long time.

Now, I love running. Like any exercise, it helps reduce my anxiety and depression, but because I didn't used to be able to do it, it makes me feel really powerful to see how far I have come. Oh and it also keeps my ass looking nice. See, I told you I am about to talk about my ass.

On the top, I am as flat as a 12-year-old boy. My boobs have been the same size since the 7th grade. (34 AA in case you were wondering.) While I like my ballerina boobies, when it comes to womanly curves, a bubbly ass is all I have got, and I cherish the thing. I have always had an OK butt, but running took my ass to a whole different level. In my opinion, my ass is really one of the best things going for me on a physical plane.

Need proof? Every person I have ever dated has been an “ass” man/woman. Also at the gym I the only dudes that have ever approached me have asked me what my nationality is. I tell them I am very, very Jewish, and if they want to know where my ass is from, they should just be more straightforward.

My love affair with running took me all through the blue ridge mountains in college and for several years beyond.

Unfortunately, I moved to a new city 2 years ago, and this city is NOT run friendly. So I started running on a treadmill in a gym. No biggie.

BIG biggie. Since I have moved, my diet has not changed, the amount of miles I run per week has not changed. I still do the same amount of cross training, and the same amount of squats and lunges. I have not gained or lost any weight, or changed the amount of time I spend at a desk, and yet my ass has pulled a Voldermort and dissaperated just when things were getting good. (Sorry, that is two Voldermort references in 2 weeks.)

But really, how ironic is that? I thought I was keeping my ass in shape by continuing to run inside, but really, my treadmill has been sabotaging my ass.

It took me a while to realize what was happening. I had had a temporary falling-out with one of my girlfriends, and she happened to be my favorite gym buddy. We took some space for a solid year, and when we reconnected, we resumed our gym routine. In the locker room on our first day back to BFF fitness sessions, she took one look at my ass and said “What...happened to your butt?”

I am not kidding. This is what true friends are for. I looked back and sort of whimpered. I went home and asked my boyfriend if my butt looked different than when we first started dating, and he sort of spluttered for a few seconds before spitting out “It's still a great butt!” Fuck.

After a bit of research I discovered that this is a thing! Treadmills use different muscles and do not support that bubbly runner's but. All of my indoor running has been ruining my butt!

Everyone must know about this -- their butts may be in jeopardy.

Google showed me that runners call this frog butt syndrome or pancake butt syndrome.

So I hunted down one of the trainers at my gym and was like “Hey, can we talk about my ass for a hot second?” He happily obliged, and told me that “Running on a treadmill doesn't use your butt or hamstrings, but instead pushes your legs back, which is the motion that your butt and hamstrings are responsible for. If you have to run on the treadmill, you're better off doing Romanian dead lifts first.”

My paranoia was justified. So I have been giving the treadmill the stink eye lately, and have been using the Stair Master instead, as well as doing Romanian dead lifts on the reg, which are not as scary as they sound. Also, spring is here, so I am forcing myself to run outside in this stupid city. I dislike that I have to stop every four blocks for a traffic light, but it's better than a pancakey butt! If I have to run on the treadmill, then I set it at an incline.

I still dig my bod and all. It's the only body I have and I love it for allowing me to do all sorts of amazing things. But...I miss my bulky butt you guys! I hope this shed some light on the perils of the treadmill so that you, too, don't mistakenly think you're doing your ass a favor when in fact you are slowly slaughtering it. OK, tell me how many squats you do to keep your ass looking amazing. Or tell me about your rivalry with the treadmill! Whatever you do, don't gripe about reading an entire article dedicated to my ass. I told you!

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