The Spinners

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I have been physically out of commission the last week or so.  "I be up in the gym just workin' on my fitness".  True Story.  So all of my blogging energy has gone to Yoga, Spin, and Zumba.

I should be honest when I say I pretty much hate the gym.  Yoga is great.  Zumba is okay.  In general the classes are my calling.  Once upon a fit time I used to have my own routines and had the will-power to self-motivate and do x amount of minutes on my cardio and then independent lifting.  But then it bored me.  And I slowly transitioned to taking the classes.  Of course, this is when I actually go to the gym.  I get all amped and go every week for a month and then something comes up that alters my routine for the next 3 months.  So is the life.

But one class I usually take and have a strong disdain for is spinning.  I mean, I love it (right after the class ends), but it is like this little community of matchys.  Matching spin shorts with the matching hair tie, with the matching trainers with the matching "Just Do It" top.  They get to class early and pick out their bikes.  They line up in front and start spinning before the instructor has even arrived.  They know one another and save bikes for friends.  They compare caloric intakes with the seriousness of someone talking about a natural disaster.

And unfortunately I got to class late last week so the only place left was in the front row.

Ugh. 

Fortunately I went uni-bomber style with my hat on, pulled as low as possible.  I had my old t-shirt on, the one that doubles as a furniture polisher.  I had my spin shorts on and mis-matched socks.  The class was full so the instructor walked around and shouted out her commands.  Damn.  This meant absolutely no cheating whatsoever.  No pointed toes, no sitting when I should be standing. Damn. Damn. Damn.

The professional spinners spent the entire class standing on their bikes, even when the class was told to cool-down and sit.  The instructor just smiled at them and I wondered if in the cabinet there was a place to put stars next to their names like in grade-school.  And we are all lined up in front of that huge mirror.  And I just know they are counting my strides (because I am counting theirs and trying to keep up).  When the instructor walks by I am in top form.  When she walks away, I slump and slither into my seat. 

The moral of this story is.... get to class early and sit in the back.

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