1 Hr. Hellish Cardio + 1 Sadistically Designed Bike + A Lot of Techno Music = Spin Class

Recently, a very nice couple moved next door. My boyfriend and I finally got to meet them while we were all working out in our yards. A little conversation caught on and I found myself thinking that we might just become good “couple friends.” Anyone that’s in a serious committed relationship understands just how great it is to find similar couples to have dinner parties with or watch the game or even just share some beers. Imagine my delight when I was leaving the gym with my boyfriend and I popped into the female half of that couple. We excitedly gabbed about how we didn’t know the other also went to this gym and of course realized we could be going together. I hate going to the gym alone, but when I don’t go alone it’s with my boyfriend and all he ever wants to do free weights. It’s a little intimidating doing weights with a guy. Compared to a lot of women I know, I do pretty well lifting weights. Still, I could never equal my boyfriend and it just dwarfs all my little successes. So, we decided to meet up for spin class on Tuesday nights.

This week was my first spin class. I was doing a bunch of stuff around the house, when I realized that spin class would be in half an hour. So, I rushed around and got my kids together and ran out the door. If you’re from Jacksonville, you understand how miserable the weather has been. Buckets upon buckets of rain were slopping down and, for some ungodly reason, everyone in the world wanted to be at the gym. So, I had to park fairly far away. I was daunted by the task of getting myself and my two daughters through all that wet and decided “Why not just leave my purse in the car? It’ll make it easier to carry one kid and hold an umbrella, while the older one carries her own umbrella.” So, that’s what I did. We ran as fast as we could and managed to not get completely soaked. Time was running out, however, so I had to hurry them into the gym’s play area as fast as possible. I managed to get to the spin class just in time. I asked the instructor to help me adjust the bike. He did a lot fidgeting with it and measuring where my knees should be. The bike still felt off to me. At this point, a great many questions were forming in my brain. Why are the handlebars so low? Why is this seat designed to constantly hurt? What do you mean position two is standing and position three is standing while bent over the handlebars? I’m not entering the Tour de France!

Unfortunately, I had no time to ask these questions because the instructor was quickly back on his bike already starting the class. At first, I followed his instructions diligently. I pedaled as fast as I could and then stood up for position two. Position two is awful. It puts all of your weight on those poor little pedals. For the strikingly thin and fit young women around me, this probably wasn’t a huge issue. But, I was probably dealing with forty pounds more than they were. Pin pricks of burning hot pain shot through my hips and I was so relieved when he told us to go into position three. Position three, while taking some of the weight off, also made me a bit dizzy. I do not like bending over or being upside down. I get easily disoriented and feel like I will throw up. Still, at least there weren’t knives stabbing me in my joints. Then, he told us back to position one. I was so happy to be sitting again, until my bottom finally touched that horrid seat. It feels like it’s trying to pry your bones apart. Again, I ask, why would someone design a seat this way? Shouldn’t there at least be some padding? We were all going as fast as we could. Admittedly, that was starting to get more and more pathetically slow on my part. Just when I was beginning to feel like I was doing well, he yelled out that we should up our resistance and go into position two. So, I did. More pain. I looked at the clock. We had been doing this for only ten minutes and already I felt like I was in Hell.

I really wanted to quit right then, but I assured myself that it would only be a few more minutes. These gym classes are usually around twenty minutes. The longest I’ve known one to go was thirty minutes. I could make it. Still it felt it was so far away. I just wanted to leave so badly. So, I weighed my options. I could continue trying to do the class his way and probably pass out on my bike. The paramedics would come. Someone would have to pick up my poor children and watch them for me. Everyone in the gym would see me being hauled off to the ambulance. It would rank right up there in the worst moments of my life. I could quit and leave, making it one of the most embarrassing moments of my life. Or, I could half ass it. I could just stay seated at my bike and keep pedaling, however slowly. I would finish my workout, even if I didn’t do a stellar job. I sat back down, hoping no one would notice. I really wish I hadn’t decided to sit up front.

Five minutes later my asthma attack began. Where was my inhaler? It was in my purse, which I had left in my care because of the rain. I started to panic a little, which caused the attack to grow worse. I noticed that everyone had towels and bottles of cold, refreshing water. I was so ill prepared! All I had brought with me were my keys. I looked around to make sure no one was looking my way and stopped pedaling. I closed my eyes, placed my hand on my heart, and concentrated on slowing my breath down. The cold hard knot in my lungs began to melt away slowly. So, I opened my eyes. My neighbor was looking back at me.

“You doing alright?” she asked, with a worried smile.
“Sure,” I laughed, “I just suck at this. Taking a little breather. No big deal. I’ll be back to pedaling in no time. Ha ha!”
“You’re doing great!” she said, “Don’t give up!”

Great? Really? I’m not even pedaling. Then the lady seated next to me began to look worried and asked if I needed help. I gave her the same assurances I had given my neighbor and wished like Hell she would let it go. By this time, my breathing was back to almost normal and my heart rate had gone down somewhat. So, I began to pedal again. I hoped it would look like everything was fine, but that hope quickly evaporated as I saw the instructor get off his bike and approach me.

“You okay?” he asked, filled with concern.
“I’m fine.” I said smiling, trying to pedal faster. “Just had a tiny asthma attack. I took care of it. It’s gone. I can do this.”
“Well, just listen to your body.” He suggested, “Just stick to position one for the remainder of the class.”
“Sure, I can do that.” I responded. I guess he hadn’t noticed that I had stuck to position one for the last ten minutes.

At this point, I realized that this must have been one of my gym’s longer thirty minute classes. That was alright. I could slowly pedal on an unbelievably uncomfortable bike for ten more minutes. I had gone into labor twice before after all, and the seat sort of mimicked that pain to a slightly lesser degree. I tried to distract myself from how soggy I was with sweat and how much my butt hurt by watching my classmates. At first I was intimidated. One woman was even smiling and laughing the whole time! I couldn’t figure out if she was just really that in shape or had some sort of psychiatric problem. My observations began to pan to the back of the room where I noticed people that reminded me more of me; slightly overweight and definitely not enjoying themselves. I longed for their camaraderie, but it was too late now. In just a couple of minutes, it would all be over. I couldn’t help smiling with relief as slightly slower techno music played and our instructor told us to get into position one and pedal slowly for a while. I knew the signs of cool down. It would be just a couple of minutes now. I saw the clock and realized that our thirty minutes had come and gone. Oh well, it wouldn’t be too much longer. We were just running a wee bit long.

Then, the instructor told us all to pick up the pace and followed that with a call for position two. I couldn’t believe this nightmare was going on. Still, I couldn’t just quit, especially after all the embarrassing attention I’d already gotten. I don’t know how, but I made it through that class. It lasted an entire hour. I wished I was dead the whole time, but it did finally end. The horrid music was turned off, the lights were brightened, and people wiped off their seats and handles. I was cleaning my bike, when my neighbor turned to me.

“So, are you okay?” she asked.
“Oh, yeah.” I answered, “More embarrassed than anything. Forgot my inhaler and I was feeling crampy earlier so…you know.”

She nodded and smiled. The instructor walked over.

“How are you feeling? Are you going to be alright?” he said, still concerned.
“I’m totally fine now, thanks.” I answered, “I thought I’d be ready for this, but I guess I wasn’t very good.”
“Oh, no. You did great!” my neighbor chimed in.
“She’s right.” He nodded, “You did great for your first time. Most people just walk out. Didn’t you notice people leaving about fifteen minutes into it?”
“Uh, no.” I stammered. You mean I could have left? I probably didn’t notice because of the asthma attack. I stayed a whole hour and I could have left after fifteen minutes! I tried not to let the painful slap of irony show too much on my face.
“Just be sure to bring some water, a towel, and your inhaler next time.” He said smiling and walked off.

I made it home with kids in tow. My legs were spaghetti and the onslaught of post-asthma attack coughing began. Just a raspy wheeze here and short bark there. I’m nearly over it today, actually. I know I’ve been complaining this whole time about working out. I’ve also been griping about a class that many people are positively addicted to. Still, I wanted to make a point.

That class blew. I hated every moment of it. I still did it. I didn’t give up. Looking back, I don’t think I would have left if I had seen the others leaving. It wasn’t just the embarrassment that kept me at that class. It was my sense of self-worth. I didn’t keep up with the regulars. I even had to stop at one point. I did my best though and I’m proud of that. I don’t have to look back at that moment and regret anything. In fact, I can laugh at it now. I might even go back. If I do though, I’m packing heavy. Anyone know of any super comfy padding I can easily put on and take off a bicycle seat?