Oh, Spin class. How I long to go sweat in places I have never imagined and breathe in the fumes of others sweating in places they never imagined. There is no feeling quite like the pain you feel in your ass cheeks after being mounted on that bike for an hour, or the aches you get in your wrists and forearms from propping up your body on said bike. But there is also no other class that reshapes your body and burns 4279382039232 calories per session, leaving your face looking emaciated from nearly perspiring to death.
I haven't gone to Spin in (eek) about a year. I think the last time I went was when I was preparing for my wedding, last winter. When I woke up this morning, something came over me and I felt compelled to go. It was 8:45 am, and I was on my first cup of coffee, curled up in my silk leopard PJ's, squirming at the creepy banter between my local newscasters. It was my fifth day off in a row from work, and though I had been hitting the gym regularly, I felt like I should take advantage of the empty schedule ahead of me and just go power through the class. I looked at my gym's website, saw a class slated to start at 9:30, and immediately slammed my coffee and left the house (don't worry, I changed out of the silk leopard PJ's).
I get to class 15 minutes early, and immediately stake out the best seat in the house. Far enough away from the instructor so I won't get yelled at for sitting when I should be standing, and close enough to the door should I have to bolt outta there if I feel death is imminent. 9:30 arrives faster than I expect, and before you know it, the strobe lights are on and I have mounted the bike of doom, ready to tackle the next hour without suffering from a severe heart attack.
I start pedaling, and I'm totally feeling it. The music is pumping, and I'm not winded - yet. The only distraction was the fact that the instructor is about 4'5 and 90 pounds, and she's cycling so fast she looks like she's about to take flight. Aside from that I think I can handle this without being too distracted of freaked out.
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Fast forward 25 minutes later. I am DYING. Actually, dying is an understatement. I am beyond death at this point. I actually don't know how I haven't fallen off the bike, and I keep looking in the mirror envisioning myself slumped over as hot firemen come in and try to revive me. I contemplate leaving. Could I do it? I'm never gonna see this people again. It won't matter. No, don't go, you wimp! Stick it out, bitch. Plus, if you get through this, you'll burn enough calories so you can drink an entire bottle of Champagne tonight.
I keep pedaling and praying to the gods of Spin for something to give me the boost I need to make it through the next 35 minutes. Then all of a sudden, BAM. I hear the first chords of "Easy Lover" by Phil Collins, and immediately I am transformed. If you don't know by now, I am an 80's music FREAK. I love the 80's. LOVE LOVE LOVE. My iPod is comprised of every 80's song you can imagine - from the obscure to the embarrassing to the downright amazing. Hearing a familiar beat literally breathed life into my veins, and suddenly I went from fat girl (who gets sent home on week 1) on The Biggest Loser to a leading competitor on the Tour de France. I'm spinning away, up, down, out of the damn saddle and loving every minute of it. And it wasn't just me - I caught the girl next to me mouthing the words as she cycled, so it was clear this retro pop infusion was just what the doctor ordered.
60 minutes later and I finished the entire workout. Legs shaking, body soaked from sweat, but I did it. I kept thinking what a horrible way to start the New Year by skipping out on my first workout of 2012. I powered through, and that, my friends, is what Monday MOET-ivation is all about.
Now on to pop that bubbly...I earned it, baby. Every last drop.
Cheers!
Cara
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