I feel bad about farting on treadmills

I feel bad about farting on treadmills.

Actually I'm apprehensive about being on treadmills in general. They’re kinda tricky.

Whenever I hear the squeak of my tennis shoe hitting the back end of the belt and I see the wall in front of me slowly moving back, I start to have a heart attack.

One of my biggest fears, no. I retract that. One of my friends biggest fears, is the fear of publicly falling off a treadmill. I mean what do you do at that point? How do you continue on in society? How do you keep living?

I think if I ever fell of a treadmill (in public), then I should probably go fall off a building. I mean what does that say about me as a person. That I can't keep a normal pace of running? Running. Something as simple as running. An activity people have been doing since…..forever. Since cavemen and shit.

You’re telling me I can’t run with a moving belt beneath me? Give me a break.

But enough talk about my friend, back to me and the concern of flatulence.

Farting on the treadmill makes me feel terrible especially when there's other people running next to me. I know they smell it because I smell it. And there's something extra funky about farting when you exercise. They seem to smell extra, oh I don’t know. SMELLY.

Not sure why, but there have been several moments when I think “That's not me. that's not my smell.”

But it is.

“I’m sorry,” is what I want to say to the health conscious strangers next to me.

“I’m sorry I just farted and you’re inhaling the insides of a rotting carcass. I’m particularly sorry because you’re taking extra deep breaths because you have to because you’re tying to breathe in as much oxygen as possible so you don’t pass out.

But hey, here’s a big whiff of my farts. I promise it’ll put you out of your misery.”

Instead of smelling my poop soup, you might even miss a step and fall of the treadmill which would then lead you to the only possible course of action. Jumping off a building. I mean the public shame of falling would just be too much.

Suicide is the answer.

Then at your funeral I could really explain how bad I felt about farting on that treadmill.