So I promised to go to a spin class. I don’t know how it happened. I posted on the gym’s facebook page about being totally intimidated by the loud shouty class and suddenly an instructor was talking back to me. Telling me to come to her class. I lost my mind and said I would.
I have never spent a whole day dreading a class. I kept thinking: I don’t have bicycle wear. I don’t have my own padded seat. I am a fat chick! A hefty honey! Spinners are goddamn creepy looking machines!
I don’t break promises; even those made to total strangers on the book of face. On the appointed day, I left work a little early (necessary because class is a bit early) and got to the gym with 15 to spare after changing. People were already in the class and going.
I had looked up a bit of info on the net over lunch and knew that I had to adjust the bike to hip height. That was it. The first bike was broken and I either looked so new or pathetic that some dude came over and set me up with a different bike. Thank you friendly Missouri guy! I did not adjust the handle bars, and that may have been an issue, but who knows.
The instructor came in, saw me and another chick and explained some things. YAY for explanation. YAY for “I am going to be up here giving SUGGESTIONS. You do what you can, but PUSH YOURSELF!”
Thank the Gods because I could not do the moves. I could Sprint. I could pedal. I could NOT stand and pedal for more than a few seconds. I could hover for SLIGHTLY longer, but not appreciably. Go thighs!
My heart rate stayed in “the zone” for over 45 minutes of the class. This is awesome. The only thing about yoga is my heart rate rarely gets to my GP’s goal.
Spinning hurt my fanny terribly, and I could not do half the bloody moves, but it was FUN! It was loud and weird and strange and I got to watch sweat fall off of me and onto the floor. It also sparked a vendetta. A VENDETTA even.
I will eventually do those moves. One day a week at a time, I WILL get there. I want to have as much fun as those creepy machine women.