Our Family's Warmth on the Home Use Treadmill

That home use treadmill at our place was a gift we picked out together for our 5th wedding anniversary. Back then, my wife had just given birth to our second child, and she’d often say she had no time to go out for walks with the kids to look after. I noticed her shoulders growing tighter by the day and heard her complain about backaches now and then, so I suggested, “Why don’t we get a home use treadmill? You can hop on for a little walk whenever you’ve got a break from the kids—it’ll loosen you up.”

At first, my wife used the home use treadmill most. Every day after our little son fell asleep for his nap, she’d step onto it, set it to a slow pace, and walk for half an hour. Sometimes when I came out of the study to get water, I’d see her walking, gazing through the living room window at the small garden downstairs. Sunlight fell on her profile, and her brows were relaxed. When our older daughter finished her homework, she’d wander over, stepping on the side of the treadmill to sway along. The two of them would chat lazily about school their laughter mixing with the soft hum of the home use treadmill.

Later, I became a regular user too. After tucking the kids in at night, my wife and I would take turns—while she walked on the home use treadmill, I’d stretch on a yoga mat nearby; when I ran, she’d sit beside me folding clothes, occasionally looking up to say, “Slow down a bit—don’t get a stitch.” Once, our older daughter woke up at midnight, saw the living room light on, and wandered over rubbing her eyes: “Mom, Dad, I want to exercise too.” That night, she walked on the home use treadmill at its slowest speed for five minutes, her little cheeks flushed, declaring herself “the family’s exercise champion.”

Now the home use treadmill sits by the living room window, like an old friend. I run on it for half an hour every morning before the kids wake up; in the evening, my wife does “parent-child walks” with our older daughter; sometimes on weekends, after a big housecleaning, we even race to see who can walk the steadiest, longest on it. It never became a dusty leftover—instead, it’s a thread weaving together our family’s exercise time. Every time I hear its steady hum, I feel a quiet warmth tucked into these ordinary days.