Laughter, Treadmills, and One Epic Fall

They say laughter is the best medicine—and I agree. I aim to have at least one good belly laugh every day. Sometimes that comes from a well-timed joke, other times from YouTube. But yesterday, a video of people flying off treadmills sent me into a full belly-laugh spiral… mostly because it triggered a memory I’ve never quite lived down.

Laughter Really Is the Best Medicine

The Daily Goal: One Good Belly Laugh

I’ve always maintained (as the Bible has) that laughter is good medicine. I try to make it my aim to have at least one good belly laugh a day. Sometimes you have to resort to watching videos, and sadly, the most laughter often comes from watching other people do dumb things.

The Trigger: A Compilation of Treadmill Fails

Yesterday, I stumbled across a compilation of people flying off treadmills at the gym. And I laughed—with extra gusto—because it brought back a very specific memory.

Back to the 90s: A Scene Set for Disaster

Not Sicily—But La Lucia

Picture it—no, not Sicily—but the Health & Racquet Club in La Lucia, KwaZulu-Natal, South Africa, in the late 90s.

The Durban North Gym Vibe

Granted, I lived in La Lucia, but people came from miles around to work out at this gym. It was the place to be seen if you were part of the trendy Durban North crowd. Think: “after work, before drinks”. Girls in matching crop tops and leggings barely breaking a sweat. Guys flexing like peacocks in mating season.

My Reason for Being There Was Different

No Fashion, Just Function

I wasn’t there to mingle. I didn’t have the fashion budget, and I never cracked the nod into those circles. I was there because I needed to exercise. And for me, sweating was inevitable.

Not Sporty by Nature

Now, I’ve never been one of those naturally sporty types. I need external motivation: a committed gym buddy or a good beat. Since I didn’t have the first, I relied on the second—my trusty “walkman.” Not the sleek cassette one, mind you. No, this was a portable CD player the size of a small stereo. This was pre-Bluetooth, pre-anything convenient. If you wanted to change the song or the volume, it required the kind of focus usually reserved for bomb disposal units.

The Treadmill Incident

A Blasé Mistake

I’d been doing this treadmill thing for a while, so I guess I got a bit blasé. One packed evening, I finally nabbed a treadmill. You only had 30 minutes, so I hopped on and got it going immediately. Then I turned to my walkman. Slipped the giant CD player into the bottle holder, popped the earphones on… nothing. Silence.

Distraction and Disaster

I figured the batteries might be dead. But by now, I was already moving at a decent pace and desperate for my music fix. While fiddling with the buttons—distracted and probably muttering under my breath—my foot strayed just slightly off center.

Takeoff and Impact

That was all it took.
My whole body catapulted off the back of the treadmill. The walkman flew into the air like a Boeing, soaring over the white railing… and directly toward the indoor pool downstairs.

The Fallout: Public Humiliation in Full Swing

Collateral Damage

That pool was not for show. It was full of serious swimmers—people who trained, not posed. And now they were being bombarded by an airborne stereo system.

Trapped and Mortified

Meanwhile, I had landed in the most awkward position imaginable: my backside wedged between the treadmill and the railing, the belt still moving beneath me. The noise alone was enough to stop conversations around the gym. I tried to untangle myself, all while burning with humiliation.

Oh Look—The Cute Rescue Team

And then came the rescue party—several rather gorgeous gym instructors who had witnessed the entire drama unfold. Because OF COURSE they had.

Bonus Humiliation: An Angry Swimmer

As I tried to pretend I wasn’t dying inside, one of the swimmers stormed up the stairs to berate me after almost being knocked unconscious by a flying walkman. Another returned the now very sodden device, having retrieved it from the bottom of the pool.

The Aftermath

New Workout Schedule, New Life Choices

Needless to say, I never went to the gym after work again. From that day on, I only showed my face at 6:00 AM—different staff, fewer people, and no eyewitnesses to my mortification.

RIP Walkman. I Survived.

As for the walkman? It never recovered. But I did… eventually.

Moral of the Story?

If you’re still using a device the size of a boombox while trying to look cool on a treadmill… maybe just embrace the silence. And always secure your electronics—or risk turning your gym session into a comedy feature for someone else’s belly laugh of the day.