I used to love the cross trainer. Out of all the cardio machines of death The Beast used to torture me with, the cross trainer was my favourite. Not because using it makes me feel like I'm training for a secret mission involving long-distance alpine skiing (although it does). Not because it makes everyone, no matter how cut, gorgeous and fit you are look absolutely fucking stupid when they use it (and it does this too). No, I used to love the cross trainer because you can coast on it. You can take it easy. You can pedal away on this stupid contraption for hours and you never feel like your legs have turned into rubber and that you're about to start shooting feces from either end. Well, like all great relationships, my love affair with the cross trainer was doomed from the start and is now over thanks largely to The Beast. To commemorate the occasion, I've composed a short poem.

Ahem.

Oh cross trainer, you of easy cardio work-outs.
Oh cross trainer, you with the decent screen and working headphone jack.
Oh cross trainer, you accomplished what the treadmill and bicycle couldn't
Namely prevent my beer belly from bouncy around like I was carrying bag of suet under my shirt.

Oh cross trainer, you with levels 1 through to 14 out of 20.
Oh cross trainer, I can go as high as 14 with much sweat but no asphyxiation.
Oh cross trainer, at 15 it was still okay.
Even though my lungs felt like someone was pouring rock salt into them.

Oh cross trainer, why did you allow The Beast to turn you against me at level 18?
Oh cross trainer, your pedals that feel like I'm wading through tar.
Oh cross trainer, you handles feel like I'm pulling ten ton weights.
People are staring because they think I'm going to turn one deeper shader of pink and then explode like Michael Ironside in Scanners.

Oh cross trainer, what's that high pitch-whistling sound?
Oh cross trainer, is it the nerve-endings in my legs about to snap like cheap guitar strings?
Oh cross trainer, is it wind escaping from my body through my arse?
Because it's certainly not going into my lungs like it should.

Oh cross trainer, you have betrayed me
Oh cross trainer, we had something special
Oh cross trainer, but now it is over because I have discovered your true, treacherous nature.
There's obviously a reason you were designed to look like a giant metal praying mantis

Cross Trainer Betrayal!!!!!!