Running is an Ordeal

[Writer's Note: I realize that purchasing exercise equipment, in addition to having a job, is a luxury right now. If you get annoyed, skip this post.]

Near the beginning of March, Mark and I walked 30 feet to access our apartment gym--to find out that it was locked. This was before everything was closed, so we weren't sure if it was on purpose or if it was a mechanical error. Either way, we couldn't get in, which means I couldn't bike recumbent, and Mark couldn't improve his mile-time on the treadmill.
We've been taking walks through different neighborhoods, and have discovered what a beautiful area we have tucked behind retail and construction zones...but it doesn't much help our hopes to get-in-shape. We could, of course, do what most people have done for centuries and run outside, but at this point in the stay-at-home saga, we are rather low on self-discipline. It's easier to keep our butts moving if the ground (aka treadmill track) beneath us is moving too; it's like an expression of solidarity.
Therefore, after Mark researched weight capacity, size, durability, ratings, etc. of various treadmills, we purchased one for pick-up at a sporting goods store. Mark then measured our trunk space, decided it would sort-of fit, and off we went to Columbia, MD, to pick it up.
Except we discovered that when he had placed the order on the phone, when he said the store in Columbia, the salesperson instead chose the store on Columbia Ave...which is in the complete opposite direction, and a different state to boot. We did gain something from the initial trip, though; the Maryland store advised us to rent a truck, as they could not see the treadmill box fitting in our compact car.
So we put on our masks, brought along some hand sanitizer, and took our rented truck over to Virginia [btw, a lot of stores were not renting trucks in this time of pandemic, so it is a small miracle that we got one last-minute]. The store people were good enough to load the box into the truck for us, which meant we just had to handle the unloading.
Well, I think we underestimated how much work unloading (and transport into apartment) would take. A good chunk of the problem is that I'm still on lifting restrictions from my spinal fusion--nothing over 25 pounds. Which is 10% of the treadmill weight.
With Mark pulling and me pushing, we got the box out of the truck, but our plan to use the dolly-cart-thing (provided by our apartment complex) was dashed because the cart + treadmill wouldn't fit through the front door. Mark had brought along a very-small wheeled platform--intended to carry a potted plant--and surprisingly, this helped us for 10 feet before disintegrating under the weight.
By another small miracle, a Door Dash driver (or equivalent; I didn't ask which company he was delivering for) saw our struggles and volunteered to help us. God bless him. He helped us get it the remaining 5-10 feet through the door, but then he had to deliver the food because responsibilities.
Left to just Mark and me (and let's be honest; mostly Mark), we couldn't get the box from the lobby to our apartment around the corner, so Plan D was open the box, unpack what we could to lighten the load, then push the remainder to our front door. After helping Mark maneuver the base through the door, I cleaned up the trail of flotsam we had left in our wake.
It's kind-of meta that we got a workout before our workout machine was functional.