Back In the Saddle

As we await amid the suspense of the election returns, I will recap for you day number two of the fitness challenge.

Spin class. Have you done this? I have been a gym member for years. Sometimes faithful, sometimes not so much, but in all those years I have never engaged in such an endeavor. It’s by no means a new phenomenon, so I’m not sure why it’s taken me this long but tonight was the night I decided to jump in the saddle. (Bad pun intended, of course).

First off, I heeded many a warning as to the butt kicking potential of a spin class. I have always enjoyed riding a bike—my beloved mountain bike in particular, so this is no new machinery or sensation to me by any stretch of the imagination. But I guess when you combine being overweight and out of shape, it makes things interesting. In my last post I suggested that the instructor might be a sadist. Actually, that is wrong. Not only is the instructor a sadist, but the students are as well. It’s basically a really intense bike ride to jamming music. Simple enough. Right? Wrong again. Last night before the start of my yoga class, I sat next to a very kind middle aged woman, who had not attended the yoga class before. She asked me a few questions about how the class would go and I feel I gave her some good pointers. She mentioned that she, too, is taking part in the fitness challenge.

“Have you done the spin classes?” I asked.

“Yes", she replied. "I started about a month ago. It’s very challenging".

“I haven’t taken one yet”, I told her. “Tomorrow is my first go”.

She then lowered her voice, looked around to see that no one was listening and then leaned toward me and said, “When I first started, I found that my crotch was really sore from riding on the small hard seat”.

Wow! Too much information, I thought to myself.

“Really?” I asked.

She nodded and then added “it does get better after a few classes, but yes, your rear end really takes a beating in the beginning”.

I then recalled many a ride through the red sands of Moab or Gooseberry Mesa and the accompanying soreness at the end of the day. By then class started so our conversation was left at that.

That very same kind woman was in my class again tonight. Before the class began, she asked me, “Jaime, would you like a gel seat cover”. “Yes, thank you!”. Yes, yes I would. And yet, I may as well have had a cold metal rod between my cheeks for the next hour, because that’s about as comfortable as it got. It was pretty rough. Like really tough. But the good news: I made it. I lived through the entire hour. I was asked several times on my way out of the gym, “How was your first class?” to which I responded, “Well, I didn’t fall off, and I didn’t quit”. So there. I didn’t fall off, and I didn’t quit. I would also like to point out that I out-rode the 21 year old gal who was also there for her first class. In fact, she only lasted 20 minutes. That girl is hardly a sadist. I dare say I even felt good in the hour following the class. But then the muscles soreness and stiffness started setting in, so I’m back to hobbling around the house moaning. My poor husband who is desperately trying to be supportive, is ready to rip his hair out. He’s tired of listening to me complain. To my credit, I did forewarn him that I was not going to be pleasant to be around for the next week or so. Lucky for him tonight he went after work and shot nine holes at the golf course and is now slumbering peacefully on the couch.

So I’m off. I’m off to inhale some ibuprofen, and then I’m off to melt into a sudoku puzzle as I chant my new mantra…”I didn’t fall off, and I didn’t quit”.