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At work last week I felt like a hamster running on a wheel. Sure, we all get that feeling sometimes, but I had the sore legs to prove it.

I walked 16 kilometres on the FitWork Walkstation, a treadmill-cum-desk, while doing everything I normally do at work - making calls, answering e-mails, writing stories and enduring taunting from my colleagues.

The manufacturers claim this is the future of office furniture. The human body isn't designed to sit in a chair for eight hours, they say, and gentle exercise keeps obesity at bay.

But my idea of improving a workstation generally involves a recliner and cupholders, maybe a mini-fridge. Could a happily sedentary office worker learn to love constant motion? How dorky do these sneakers look with my suit? And how much work could I really get done on this thing?

(Quick answers: Maybe, very, and some.)

The Walkstation, which retails for about $4,500, went on the market in Canada this month, and already the Michigan-based manufacturer, Steelcase, has sold 200 here.

The philosophy behind it is non-exercise activity thermogenesis (NEAT) - Mayo Clinic researcher James Levine's coinage for all the daily activities we do while we're not "working out," from climbing stairs at home to tapping our feet during a meeting. His groundbreaking 2005 study found that NEAT influences our weight more than the time we spend formally exercising.

The treadmill-workstation hybrid is supposed to boost one's NEAT. Dr. Levine has estimated that if obese people spent two to three hours at a Walkstation each day instead of sitting, they could lose 44 to 66 pounds a year.

My tread-desk experiment started promoting better fitness at my workplace right away, as co-workers rose from their desks and walked over to investigate.

"Gives new meaning to the term 'rat race,' " a business writer said, regarding me sympathetically.

I learned the life of an early adopter is never lonely - I reunited with old friends and met new colleagues, all of whom banded together to mock me as I stumbled along.

"You can go faster than that!" exhorted the Review

editor.

Laugh it up, desk jockeys, I thought - I'll have the last laugh when I've walked my way to legs of steel without breaking a sweat.

But after one day of walking, my muscles felt more like mush. The top speed of 2 mph was too brisk for me to read and type. Even when I slowed down to 1 mph, multitasking was out: Attempting to place a phone call while simultaneously checking e-mail sent me listing dangerously to one side and grabbing the desk for support.

At the end of the day, I limped home on aching legs and told my husband he had to walk the dog because I gave at the office. The next day, Kathy Smythe, Steelcase market manager for Ontario, explained the allure of the Walkstation.

"It allows people who are chained to their desk to move and burn calories," she said. "People feel rejuvenated and energized at the end of the day."

"Really?" I asked. "Because I just felt tired."

"You must have been going too fast," she said.

No, I told her, just 1 mph. "But I did it for five hours and I went five miles," I added quickly.

"I wouldn't necessarily recommend that you walk all day," she said.

Canadian companies buying the Walkstation include food manufacturers, Internet firms and financial services companies. Ms. Smythe said many have purchased a few for the whole office, so people can take turns using it while they're checking e-mail, reading websites or doing other work that requires less than total concentration.

The wisdom of this approach became clear as I adopted Ms. Smythe's recommendation, hopping on and off the Walkstation during the day.

Sometimes it was as easy as, well, walking. Story ideas sprang to mind quickly and phone conversations were imbued with extra liveliness.

But when I tried to read a Statistics Canada report, I had to hit the stop button before the second page. Making sense of statistics requires sitting, preferably with a cup of bitter cafeteria coffee in hand. There's a reason people say, "Stop and think." Rodin didn't sculpt The Thinker playing

volleyball.

One thing I hadn't counted on is that once you become Crazy Treadmill Lady, your public expects a certain level of commitment.

"You're sitting? Excuse me!?" said a colleague when she saw me at my regular desk, in the tone you'd use if you saw your vegan friend tearing into a bacon cheeseburger.

For motivation, an anonymous co-worker thoughtfully taped a plastic carrot above the treadmill.

Despite the heckling, it's easy to see the attraction of the Walkstation; exercising without risk of spandex exposure has got to be a good thing. Walking while working probably boosted my creativity, improved my mood and made me a bit healthier. I felt a proud burst of accomplishment when I hit 10 miles. And for once in this arctic cave of a newsroom I was not completely freezing at work.

Maybe it was the carrot, though, but I just couldn't shake that mental image of a small rodent scurrying around an exercise wheel. Employers talk about wanting workers

to be happy and healthy, but really they want us to be productive.

The Walkstation marketing material emphasizes benefits such as more focused employees who take fewer sick days.

Why do I have the sneaking suspicion that future prototypes will include food pellet dispensers and feeding tubes filled with caffeinated sugar water?