Who here has done a spinning class?
Not that kind of spinning, silly! You know, there's nothing like riding a bike nowhere but somehow ending up in hell.
"It's the best exercise a girl can get" beamed the little pixie behind the counter at my gym. "It'll tone your whole body aaannnnnddddd it's fun." Hmm...okay? Thanks tiny little toned lady, I think I'll check it out. (Skipping and singing and waving at other gym-goers).
My heart sank as I entered the dimmed room filled with sinewy, muscular ladies. When I saw the other "students" in the class, who were dressed as if they were going on a real bike ride, I knew I had made a mistake. A Jack Palance look-alike was my instructor and he had enough gear on for a three week trek into the Andes. I couldn't help imagining me sitting on his handlebars giggling during the class, holding a parasol, and drinking lemonade.
"Get ready to climb some hills, ladies!!! Everyone get in your saddle."
Uh-oh. Saddle? Now I was really worried. I walked to the front of the class. "Ummm, excuse me sir? Can someone who's never tried spinning before take this class?"
"So, you've done an intro class before?"
"You've never done a spinning class before?"
"I just haven't."
"So, this would be your...seee...cond..."
"First time..." (shaking his head as if he doesn't understand me)
"Yup. I should probably just go and do something elll..."
"No, no. It's fine. Hop on up. First time huh?"
Anywho, he plopped me up on my bike in the front row, so that he could save me if I fell off. At first I was a little too high up and I couldn't reach the pedals at the bottom. But my weathered teacher adjusted my seat. I immediately was aware of how uncomfortable the seat, oops excuse me, saddle
was. It genuinely felt like I was sitting on the edge of a brick, where the edge went right up my hoo hoo. And there's nowhere to adjust so that you have any relief. The genius is though that you don't want to ever break because sitting down is worse than standing up, so you work harder.
The next hour passed as a fog of peddling and trance music. About twenty minutes in, I truly believed that I was on some Swiss Mountainside with a gang of Olympic cyclists. I only broke out of that fantasy when I realized that my legs were burning as if I was being slowly scalded with chicken broth. Biking is hard! Remember when you used to "ride bikes" with friends? When did you get so fat and lame that riding alone in an air conditioned room was such a fucking nightmare?
Afterwards, I walked like I had been raped by pygmies. But afterwards, my old instructor gave me a high five and said, "good form! Like a pro!," which made up for my lower back pain, piercing thigh pain, and terminal blindness.
And so children, the moral of this story is: "You can do anything you put your mind to...especially when your mind is slowly deteriorating."