I'm Spinning, Whoa-oh oh ohhh, I'm Spinning...

Last Friday I decided to try a spinning class offered at my gym. I have been curious about it for a while now, but I was reluctant to try it namely because I have watched defeated class attendees drop like flies 10, 15, 20 minutes into the hour-long class while I'm on the treadmill and elliptical outside. Once the class begins in the corner room, separated from the rest of the gym by a glass wall and door, the bass starts pumping from inside, and the shouting voice of the instructor becomes audible. Almost immediately, the glass fogs up, obscuring the cyclists from the view of the other gym patrons. Shortly thereafter, an observer, such as myself, will see the door fly open a handful of times as exasperated cyclists almost fall out of the room, half crawling, half walking to the refuge of the drinking fountain or locker room. Needless to say, that class is no joke. So I was afraid.

Friday, I took the plunge. I showed up the requisite 1-hour prior to the start time in order to secure my spot in the class (I then went home to change and have a snack). When I came back, I entered the dark room (lights were never turned on the whole time), and got on my bike. I had to adjust it quite a bit to fit my short legs and arms. This required assistance from a very friendly gentleman with shiny black spandex.

The instructor was very peppy and amicable and displayed superb muscle tone. She danced to the beat, and easily demonstrated the proper way to execute each move on her bike, which was positioned in the front of the room, facing all the other bikes. She even came around with tissues for people who had runny noses, all the while screaming for us to pedal faster, and display some rhythm. The soundtrack for the class was loud music which consisted of a mix of popular songs that were set to a much quicker tempo than normal with way more throbbing bass; enough to encourage a fast paced work-out for sure.

I could hang with the basic pedaling, but as soon as I was directed to stand on the bike while continuing a quick pace, I felt my legs start to object. This heavy leg syndrome increased as we started to do “jumps” which required standing and sitting repeatedly while pedaling rapidly. All the while, the bike seat acted as a jack hammer, pounding incessantly into my pooper. Not so comfy.

Not long into the class, I noticed that my body was producing an obscene amount of sweat which started dripping into my eyes and mouth. My hair became soaked, as did my tank top and sports bra. I was feeling the burn, so to speak. About halfway into the routine, I started to lose my vision. Things got very cloudy for me, then totally black for mili-seconds at a time. Then came the fight or flight reflex! I was certain that I was going to either vomit onto my bike or fall off of it, setting in motion a nasty domino effect of falling cyclists (this was a tiny room with all of us in tight quarters). At this point I decided to ease up a bit. Up until then, I was increasing my resistance every time the instructor would demand a “turn to the right” on the knob which controlled the tire grips. I have this pride issue which makes me feel like I have to be as good as or as strong as the other people in the class, ESPECIALLY if I perceive them to be older or larger than me. Well, eventually I dripped my pride onto the black rubber floor along with my sweat, and focused on simply NOT having a heart attack! It worked, and I was able to finish the class like a champ.

Surprisingly, my legs were not sore the rest of the weekend. My butt hole, however, is a different story :(. I’ll do it again…but with padded spandex!