So there I was, trotting away, and since I can now handle a 15 degree incline at three miles an hour without reaching my target heart rate, I said to my self, “Self, I wonder what it takes now to max out?”
Smart people hear that little inner voice and strangle it before anything bad can happen. I’m not that smart.
So your humble blogger started to speed up. And up, and up. I managed to get up to 3.4 MPH at the 15 degree incline and hold it for two minutes. The bluegrass banjos coming through my earphones helped.* I got my heart rate up to 178 beats per minute, which is rather higher than is strictly good for me. And boy did I feel it—aching chest, not quite panting, unhappy legs, the entire package.
After that, drop set shoulder presses to failure were rather uneventful, among the other physical follies I committed while at the gym. I think the gal walking beside me at three MPH on zero incline thought I was nuts, though. I walk at three MPH on the flat for hours. I needed to test myself, and I did.
*Yes, the soundtrack from that movie. “Paddle faster, I hear banjos!” indeed.
Quick edit to say think you! Language of the Land is #11 in the Steampunk-science-fiction category.