It took me a solid decade to contemplate joining a spin class. I’m not one to leap into things—unless, of course, it involves diving into a chocolate fountain. You might wonder, what is spin class? Picture a group of people pedaling stationary bikes in a dimly-lit room, all while loud music blasts. Imagine a nightclub atmosphere, but with more sweat and the possibility of heart palpitations.
Naturally, I had my reservations:
- The group dynamic
- The exercise itself
However, if you want to strengthen your “quads” and achieve something called “cardio,” spin class has been touted as a solid choice. I decided to approach this experience with less anxiety than I had on my first day of high school. I was an adult now, and it was time to don my spandex with confidence.
The first obstacle was making a reservation, which felt like a VIP pass to keep all the non-enthusiasts out. The next step was to actually show up. I realized too late that I should have also purchased those peculiar velcro biker shoes that make you walk like a penguin. Panic set in when I wondered if I also needed padded shorts. Luckily, my naturally cushioned rear end saved the day.
Upon entering, I gravitated towards the back of the room—oh wait, we were avoiding high school metaphors, right? I then approached the instructor, pleading for help with the bike setup. To my surprise, these bikes resembled none of the Barbie models I remembered. Instead, they looked like props from a horror movie, complete with metal parts and an uncomfortable leather seat that you awkwardly straddle. There was also a screen displaying RPMs and resistance, which was soon obscured by my perspiration—definitely not tears.
As I embarked on this cycling journey, I quickly learned that I was the resistance. If “RPM” stands for “Revolutions Per Minute,” then the ride felt reminiscent of the French Revolution, with me battling for the right to eat cake. Initially, the soft Sarah McLachlan remix lulled me into a false sense of security, but at just 2 minutes and 30 seconds in, my enthusiasm plummeted from “Let’s crank up that resistance!” to “Oh dear Lord, I can’t breathe!”
The instructor, full of pep, urged us to “CLIMB CLIMB CLIMB!” because apparently, we were gearing up for a mountain. When it came time to “rise up out of the saddle,” it felt less like riding and more like an airplane struggling to take off. My legs felt like lead as I took flight, desperately trying to maintain speed while my landing gear malfunctioned. Each descent onto that unforgiving leather seat felt like a crash landing.
As I climbed my own Mt. Everest with Bruno Mars belting in the background, I envisioned various scenarios: a vintage prop plane landing in a jungle or an Airbus adrift in a river. At one point, I thought maybe I could just hover above the saddle for the entire class! But alas, my quads had other plans.
When I finally got to sit down after that initial hill, I felt victorious. Sure, I reeked like a funky disco ball, but I only had 48 minutes left to survive. Surrounded by a class full of AARP members who were outpacing me, I had to reflect on why my heart was racing so rapidly.
On this inaugural spin class day, I discovered a few harsh truths:
- Cycling truly is an impact sport—just ask my rear end.
- I have zero desire to do this on the open road unless it’s a leisurely downhill ride on a Huffy adorned with streamers.
- I’m with Lance Armstrong on this one: the only way to endure cycling is with some pain relief.
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Summary:
In summary, my first spin class was an eye-opening experience, revealing that cycling is indeed an impact sport. Although I struggled through the class, I learned valuable lessons about fitness, perseverance, and the importance of proper gear.
Keyphrase: Cycling as an Impact Sport
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