It's often said that "Pride goeth before a fall". With me it's more like "Pride goeth before the wall".

I don't mean the proverbial bastion of intestinal fortitude otherwise known as the 20-mile mark of a marathon. No, I mean the wall of my basement that resides behind my treadmill.

On those cold winter running days which are capable of producing the lovely feeling of frozen lips and jaws, I resort to the treadmill. Unfortunately I still have the mindset of a young runner with the declining speed and energy of an aging one. Not a great combination when you also throw in those twin qualities of groundless ego and stubborn pride.

My seasonal difficulty is that I keep the speed settings on the exact same pace that I used when I began indoor running five years ago. And every succeeding winter I find it slightly more difficult to maintain that speed. But I battle forward with the mindset of a maniacal runner and constantly hear Winston Churchill saying, "Never, never, never give up." I doubt he had a treadmill in mind as each time I use it I come upstairs and through gasping pants say to my wife, "That thing kicked my butt." Oxygen depletion then causes me to hear a little chuckle coming from a piece of exercise equipment in the basement. The Treadmill Zone.

But, like most runners, I'm equally as strong with dedication as I am with a very proficient ability at rationalization. I consider myself quite the expert in the explanation of SPR, otherwise known as Slower Run Performance. Outdoors, I have a plethora of excuses, including the wind was gusting, car traffic slowed me down, or the course was hilly with too many turns.

Indoors poses a slightly different challenge with its constant climate and the inherent difficulty of claiming you were boxed in on the treadmill. When the treadmill running first became more difficult, I began with a scientific excuse. I determined that there had been an increase in the current coming from my electrical outlet causing greater voltage to the treadmill and a higher rate of speed, though the actual set pace remained the same. Yeah, yeah, that's it! I sounded like John Lovitz as the Pathological Liar from the old Saturday Night Live.

Next year I went with a geological theme and claimed that there must have been a shift in the earth's crust beneath my home, creating a higher grade of incline under my treadmill. A year later I concluded that by adding a room onto our house I'd diminished the quantity of available oxygen.

Finally, last year, I came up with the fact that since my children were now playing in the basement more there was more carbon dioxide being exhaled, making running more difficult. The old invisible vapor justification

I'm not enough of a dunderhead to think that I will, for all eternity, be able to maintain the same speed on the treadmill. I know that, if certain accommodations aren't ultimately made, the treadmill pace will overcome me and I'll fly off the back end of my revolving belt into my basement wall. I can envision slowly extricating my body from a six foot hole in the wall, kicking the plaster chunks from my running shoes and shaking the paint particles off the back of my head.

As I explain the situation to my wife (who's responded to the sonic boom sound from the basement), she'll delicately ask, "Well then, why didn't you just slow the pace down a little?"

Ah yes, I think to myself. I just pulled myself out from being lodged within my basement wall and you offer logic! We're not talking logic here; we're talking running!

You want sound reasoning from a man who Vaselines his nipples before a long run and who can run an hour of fartlek but can't get across the family room quick enough to get the phone before the fifth ring! You want logic from someone who's been known to pour an energy drink on his Corn Flakes and who showered in his new Gore Tex suit to test it's water resistant abilities! Logic escapes me faster than the sprint for cinnamon rolls at the post race refreshments.

My less than pragmatic runner thought process dictates that I come up with a solution other than simply slowing the speed down. The conclusion I arrive at may seem a little expensive but there's no price for a runner's peace of mind.

It's time to get a new treadmill. Recognizing the variance between treadmills and the actual versus stated speeds, it's time to begin again with a new speed setting on a new treadmill. And this time I'm going to pick a pace that I should also be able to handle in five years. I'd hate to have to replace that wall again.