Dream was the word I associated with exercise machines in the old days. Not the dream of ownership, but the dream of possibility. The machine promised the ultimate transformation. I was going to become the new me.

Now, at my advanced age with dashed dreams, I am giving up. I decided that this old me will not be owning a new-me machine. Ever again. Although I can’t say I didn’t try.

In my late 40s, I decided that I was starting to slip. A few pounds a year had crept on and I wasn’t liking the side view in the full-length mirror. What to do? I went to Weight Watchers – for probably the 6th or 8th time. I lasted the usual 6 to 8 weeks and dropped 6 or 8 pounds. But I don’t do well on deprivation. I’ve had a lifelong problem walking past a fresh éclair.

I tried walking with a few different partners over the years. Fun, but eventually, we would each have excuses – early meetings, kids’ needs, dentist appointments. Whatever. Walking usually lasted 6 to 8 weeks.

Lots of people suggested swimming. And while I like the water, I do not like changing in and out of a bathing suit in front of other people. I’m an outgoing person, but it has never included removing my clothes ah … er … socially. Personally, that’s one of those “Shoot me now” scenarios.

A quick side story by way of explanation: Way back a thousand years ago, in my high school gym class, we each had individual dressing rooms.

They were stalls with a bench, a small upright locker, and, thank you Lord, a thick canvas curtain. Leaving class, we all ran downstairs to the locker room grabbing towels along the way. Changing out of our gym uniforms, we wrapped ourselves in the towels heading for the showers. Individual showers. With the same heavy canvas curtains. Ahhhh. Perfect.

A quick scrub and rinse, return to the lockerette, and back into school clothes and the next class. That four-year regimen, added to being an only child – no brothers or sisters to invade my space – created a need for privacy. Modesty became a lifelong habit.

So, when I finally realized I needed to exercise alone, not on someone else’s schedule or plan, I was around age 50. I’m a slow study sometimes. That’s when exercise machines entered my life. The first, a Nordic track ski machine, lived in the guest room. I could fold it up for storage when we actually had guests. I was beyond enthusiastic with the sleek “Scandinavian” machine. The first few weeks raised havoc with all my leg muscles, and then it seemed they were getting stronger. And what’s this? I was breathing easier. I noticed my clothes were a tiny bit looser.

But the guest room was upstairs. Eighteen steps. After running up and down with laundry and kids’ needs, some days I didn’t make it onto the machine. Then the exercise days got further apart. I was terrific at it for about 6 to 8 weeks. My commitment weakened, the quick runs upstairs tapered off, and the mighty Norse life-changer slowly became a dusty clothes hanger.

Lesson learned, I thought.

A few years later, when I got the bug again, I rationalized that the ski machine was only good for my legs and my breathing. I needed a shoulder/arm workout too. Enter the Cardioglide, which resided in – surprise! – the guest room. Although seated, it worked both upper body and legs in a rowing-like motion. I loved it and felt so virtuous. Some days, I used it morning and night, always trying to add more time to my daily charts. It was wonderful … for about 6 to 8 weeks. And then … well, you already know what happened. I did feel guilty as it entered its clothes hanging era.

Skip ahead 15 years. Another house, another life. When Dear Richard and I married in 2013, we decided to buy a treadmill together. We both knew we needed the exercise. He had owned an Aerodyne bicycle that hadn’t make the move to Warren. We were both convinced

that walking is the best exercise for people our age. I was thrilled with the idea of its benefits. We set it up in – surprise! – the guest room upstairs. I used it enthusiastically for about … 6 to 8 weeks! Richard sheepishly admits to walking on it a few times. Today it is the major storage component in the guestroom. gets dusted occasionally, and desperately needs to be moved. Out.

Dear reader, if you know anyone who would enthusiastically enjoy a very low-mileage ProForm treadmill, have them contact me. The only price is the removal – and in this house, that’s only 14 steps up. That’s right – a free treadmill to the first person who has 6 to 8 weeks of enthusiastic training in mind…or maybe a totally changed life. A dream fulfilled.

Marcy O’Brien can be reached at Moby.32@hotmail.com.