Likely Normal

VR treadmills are what happens when engineers who’ve never met a human try to solve the problem of “how to walk in virtual reality without walking in real life.” The result? A bizarre contraption that makes you look like a drunk astronaut training for a moon mission that will never happen. These over-engineered hamster wheels promise the freedom to run through digital worlds—but mostly deliver the experience of trying to ice skate on a treadmill while wearing a blindfold.

The first problem is the learning curve, which is less of a curve and more of a sheer cliff. You step onto the slippery, bowl-like surface with all the grace of a newborn giraffe, arms flailing as the machine misinterprets your desperate wobbling as sprinting. Suddenly, your VR avatar is zooming into a virtual tree while your actual body is just trying not to faceplant into the wall. The harder you try to walk naturally, the more you resemble a malfunctioning Roomba.

Then there’s the social aspect. Nothing kills the immersion of slaying virtual dragons like the realization that, to any bystanders, you’re just a sweaty person shuffling in place like you’re fighting off invisible bees. The noise alone—a constant slap-slide-thump of sticky shoes on plastic—sounds like someone angrily mopping a floor. Don’t you dare try to jump in VR, because the treadmill absolutely will not make it feel real when you land early. Instead, you’ll perform a sad, earthbound hop while your digital self soars majestically, creating the tragic dissonance of feeling like a superhero while looking like you’re struggling to get onto a step stool.

After 20 minutes of this, you’re exhausted—not from the exercise, but from the sheer mental effort of convincing your brain that sliding your feet in a bowl counts as locomotion. Meanwhile, your VR headset is fogged up with your own frustrated breath, and your knees are begging for mercy.