Newton’s Laws of Motion

All through last week, there was one task on my to-do list that I kept avoiding. In fact, it had been there for weeks. Every time I saw it, I simply pressed the imaginary Jump and Pass key.

It worked beautifully... until last night.

What happened last night?

Hmmmm...

This thing developed legs and started chasing me. The crazy part was that I was running, but I was going nowhere. I was shouting, but no one could hear me. Then I looked down.

Treadmill.

The display cheerfully announced my speed. 

8 km/h... 10 km/h... 12 km/h. 

Calories burned: impressive. 

Distance covered: 0.0 km.

I pumped my legs with everything I had. The task didn't seem impressed. It simply kept pace, pursuing me like a determined debt collector. 

The only thing increasing faster than my speed was my frustration. Sweat was pouring. Progress was not.

I kept running. Speed increasing. Position constant.

My lungs filed a formal complaint.

Out of nowhere, my old physics teacher appeared, hands behind his back, as though he had been supervising my suffering all along. Physics textbooks floated around him like loyal bodyguards. He watched for a moment, shook his head, and burst into laughter. Then, one by one, the textbooks disappeared.

He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, "Newton's laws! Newton's laws!"

I dug deep into the dusty shelves of my memory, past nursery rhymes, multiplication tables, and WAEC survival strategies.

Somewhere at the back, Newton was still waiting.

It had been over thirty years since I tucked those three laws into my brain. They had faithfully seen me through every internal and external examination.

Surely they could rescue me now.

As I searched desperately for the external force that would save me, I heard a sudden bang.

NEPA remembered my street.

For the first time in my life, I was genuinely grateful for a power outage. 

Darkness. 

Silence. 

The treadmill jerked to a stop.

I was flung into the air, missing my wardrobe by inches and the ceiling fan by what felt like divine intervention, before landing on my bed.

I bolted upright, pulse racing and sweat pouring. I remembered the treadmill and jumped out of bed, heading straight for the scale.

Mass was constant.

I hissed. 

"All that running for nothing!" 

My alarm reminded me that dreams had ended and reality had resumed. It was a weekday, and I had to go to work. I still had a task waiting for me.

When I got to work, I remembered Newton's third law. It was time for a reaction.

I opened my laptop.

Thirty minutes later, the mountain I had built in my mind had become plain. The task that had chased me all night quietly disappeared from my to-do list.

For the rest of the day, I found myself humming a victory song.

"Gym tomorrow?" my colleague asked as he packed up to leave.

"I've had enough exercise for one week," I replied.

He looked at me, puzzled.

There was no need to explain.

All I could think about was catching up on a good night's sleep. After all, there was no task left to chase me.

— Abimbola Writes