How to buy a treadmill that doesn’t smoke, smell like burnt rubber, or overheat the first time you use it
Having been the victim of two errant treadmill purchases, I can now pose as an expert and share my wisdom with you (maybe I’ll even write a money-making e-book about it someday).
In any case, here’s what not to do:
Do not buy from people who wear overalls, purport to run nine businesses, advertise on Craigslist and offer to “bring it right over” free of charge. Taking your money is one of their nine businesses, and there’s a reason they want to get rid of the thing.
Do not simply turn on a used treadmill at the store, remark about how quietly it runs, and promptly take it home. Instead, get on the treadmill yourself and see if it starts complaining. You know, whining and making other strange noises.
If you want to try working while walking, turn it down to your preferred speed and give it an honest workout, right in the store. If you’re too embarrassed, get a big boy salesman to do it.
Loud creaky whines, smoke, and burnt rubber smells are a bad sign. If you qualify as portly (e.g. obese), make sure the motor has muscle to move your weight. Until now, I could never figure out why some treadmills were $3500 and some were $350. Now I know. Some were built to be run in gyms, by hefties and skinnies alike, for extended periods of time. Others were meant for people who mean well but will really turn them into a plant stand.
If you’re planning to walk while working, you need a quality treadmill. Take it from the voice of experience. My treadmill was only quiet in the store, just long enough to get the sale. Then, like my kids used to do, it started whining the minute it got through my door. I got to walk on my “gently used” toy for a whole .4 miles before it emanated a strong smell of burning rubber and ground to a creaky halt. And no, I don’t weigh 300 pounds (I’m not even close to that).
Moral of the story: if you don’t like rubbery smoke smells, buy a treadmill with a strong motor and check it out well first.
P.S. I’m taking my second treadmill back today—the second hand store I bought it from is a good place and I know they will work with me.
The Terrible Tale of Two Treadmill Desks
I’m not a natural multi-tasker (walking while chewing gum is a challenge for me), but this movement towards walking while working really caught my attention. Unfortunately, my first two attempts at setting up a treadmill desk have met with various shades of disaster.
Attempt number one involved looking for a cheap treadmill on Craigslist, just to see if I really could type while standing. After locating an apparently fine piece of equipment with a glowing description, I e-mailed the owner to see what I could find out. The fellow was gracious enough (for reasons I would understand later), even offering to “throw” the treadmill onto the back of his truck and bring it right to my door.
A rather chatty redneck-type, he soon arrived in my driveway, pick-up, treadmill and all. Unfortunately for my short and tumultuous relationship with this treadmill, it was disgust at first sight. I had serious questions about the viability—not to mention reliability—of this machine from the moment it graced my drive. The overalled fellow drowned my thoughts with his chatter, telling me that he ran nine businesses (another warning sign) and other miscellaneous facts I had no need to know.
I felt kind of bad, you know, sending him away after he’d driven all the way over (which fit right into his strategy, I am sure). And it was only a hundred dollars. He looked like he needed it more than me, so I doled it out more to get rid of him than anything else. I figured I’d get some use out of the rather antiquated looking beast, then send it on its way.
Things deteriorated quickly when we got the treadmill into the house and took a better look. My first sign something was drastically wrong was the light switch gracing the dashboard. The second alarm went off when we turned on the treadmill. It was kind of like walking on a freight train, if you know what I mean. I forced myself to use that treadmill for all of two minutes, before hitting the light switch power gizmo and shutting it off for the night. I never got up the gumption to use it again. It was simply too loud. Plus that, it made me feel gullible and mad all at the same time. The next time someone offers to deliver a piece of equipment to my house sight unseen I’ll have a ready answer.
They have a handy little service in our town where they pick up junk once a month. I thought about giving the treadmill to the Salvation Army, but couldn’t see why they would want it. So I dragged it out to the curb and felt a certain sense of relief when they hauled it away.
It took me a year to get up my gumption and purchase another treadmill. This one came from a second hand sports store, one I had done business with before. The guy is real nice, and after some consideration and conversation I decided on an inexpensive treadmill. This one cost $400, but the sales guy assured me that it was good quality (though used) and would last me for quite awhile.
I set-up the treadmill, hooked up my makeshift laptop table, and settled in for some writing. Things were going fine for about .4 miles. I did learn a couple of things. The treadmill, which was incredibly quiet when I turned it on at the shop, got noisy the minute I stepped on it (and no, I don’t weigh a ton). I learned that I can type and walk at the same time, although 1 mile per hour (as some people do) was quite boring. Two miles per hour was actually quite a good speed for me.
I was actually just revving up, thinking of how the pounds would melt away and how wonderful this new “walking while working” way of life might be—when a strange burning odor wafted up to my nostrils. My nose doesn’t work very well, so by the time I smell something things are usually bad. I was just looking around the garage, wondering what might be on fire, when I got my second signal that something was drastically wrong. The treadmill stopped. Overheated. Whirred, whined, and quit. And just like that, my second attempt at walking while working when up in a smelly, rubbery smoke.
Guess I’ll go see that nice feller at the treadmill store tomorrow. He’s a good guy, I know he’ll get me another. But I am starting to wonder, how many treadmill desks will I have to set up before I get one that works? Thus far on my treadmill journey, I’ve met one Craigslist scammer with a light switch gizmo, and one worn out second that burns rubber than grinds to a halt.
Hopefully for me, the third time’s the charm. Otherwise I’ll have to hang-up the idea of a treadmill desk, sink into my easy chair, and hang on to my extra pounds.