Chapter 20 – “The Treadmill” begins with the weary voice of a woman crushed beneath the weight of her daily obligations. Her letter outlines a life dictated by endless engagements—sporting events, committee meetings, fundraising luncheons, music lessons, and obligatory dinners—all leaving no space for reflection, rest, or even a moment with a book. Her schedule, far from being leisurely or fulfilling, reads more like the itinerary of a public figure than that of a private individual. This exhausting routine is not born of necessity but of social obligation, crafted by invisible rules that demand constant visibility. Through her experience, the author unveils a broader social dilemma: the pursuit of self-cultivation is constantly disrupted by the demands of conformity. The treadmill becomes a metaphor for the cyclical burden of participation, where slowing down is viewed as negligence, and withdrawal as failure.

Another striking example features a portrait artist frustrated by his subject’s inability to sit for even one uninterrupted session. This woman, admired for her beauty and social charm, is so swept up in engagements that even the act of being painted becomes a logistical nightmare. Between theater outings, charity banquets, and calls from admirers, time for personal stillness is perpetually sacrificed. The artist’s patience wears thin, not from artistic strain but from scheduling battles. This story mirrors the earlier complaint, emphasizing how modern life trades meaning for motion. Artistic pursuits, which require quiet and attention, cannot compete with the allure of social status or the compulsion to “stay seen.” The portrait, never completed, becomes a quiet symbol of how beauty and potential can be lost in the current of constant busyness.

Chapter 20 – “The Treadmill” digs deeper to uncover the root of this exhausting loop: the inability to say “no.” Politeness, habit, and fear of exclusion drive individuals—particularly women—to accept every invitation and fulfill every request. This unspoken rule turns once-optional social customs into mandatory events, with people attending out of obligation rather than desire. Over time, once-meaningful rituals, such as New Year’s calls and formal afternoon teas, lose their purpose and become theatrical routines. Interestingly, the chapter notes that men have quietly begun to step back from these conventions, choosing instead to spend time in ways that feel more personal or restorative. Their subtle resistance suggests that the choice to opt out is possible, and perhaps even necessary.

The chapter doesn’t condemn social engagement altogether, but rather urges a more conscious approach to participation. Sending cards instead of attending every call or gathering is proposed as one practical solution, especially when such customs offer little emotional reward. These alternatives preserve connection while allowing individuals to reclaim time for creativity, solitude, or meaningful conversations. The emphasis is on intentional living—choosing activities that nourish rather than drain. By advocating for strategic withdrawal, the author does not promote isolation, but balance. This perspective encourages readers to break the cycle of performative attendance and rediscover the value of time spent authentically.

In many ways, Chapter 20 – “The Treadmill” offers a surprisingly modern critique of social burnout. The parallels to today’s culture are striking: digital calendars filled with back-to-back meetings, social media that rewards constant activity, and the lingering fear that missing an event means missing out on relevance. The treadmill has evolved, but its mechanism remains the same. Social pressure, whether face-to-face or virtual, continues to dictate the pace of modern life. This commentary is not nostalgic for simpler times—it’s a call to action. The message is clear: fulfillment doesn’t come from the number of boxes checked on a calendar, but from the quality of what fills one’s time.

Chapter 20 – “The Treadmill” ultimately invites readers to pause and ask what drives their busyness. Is it genuine connection, personal growth, or the quiet pressure to maintain appearances? It encourages people, especially women, to assert agency over their schedules and create space for what matters most. Rejection of outdated customs and the adoption of thoughtful alternatives is portrayed not as rebellion, but as self-respect. The chapter closes not with resignation but with possibility—the idea that stepping off the treadmill is not abandonment, but a conscious choice to walk in one’s own direction. When the rhythm of life is chosen rather than imposed, meaning can re-enter even the simplest moments.