Spin Fever

There are plenty of reasons to hate it.  

I have an aversion to almost all spandex, and until about two years ago, refused to ever partake in any sort of group workout unless it was the occasional 5 or 10K race with my dad and/or sister.  There is a different instructor almost every day of the week, and they each have their own catchy (or confusing) way to tell you to add resistance, change positions, stretch.  There is the man with the very serious eyebrows, and the THREADBARE, very . . . clingy . . . cotton knit shorts on the bike in front of you.  There is a woman next to you who seems to be following her own workout instead of the instructions yelled into the microphone over the thumping music designed to rev up your mind as well as your pace.  And of course there's that guy who is always trying to close the door so he can "sweat it out," the man next to you who just WON'T tuck in those elbows and, therefore, keeps bumping you, the woman who is far too serious about her workout and the older gentleman who accidently just flicked sweat at you.  

But then there's the friend who comes to class with you whenever you say you're going to be there, and the girls who always answers the instructor's "How we doin' out there?" with a "Whooo  hooo!" There's also the girl in the front who is talented enough to stay with the instructor through every jump and hill, so you model your workout after her, even though you've never spoken. 

The lights are turned off and you are focused on improving your very self since there's really nothing to look at but the bike in front of you - the only alternative is that pair of  threadbare shorts bobbing up and down.  There's the motivation of knowing that you will spend the next full hour pushing yourself to your physical limit, even though it might be different than the guy in the front row with the LIVESTRONG Tour de France vest on.  

You are now a member of an elite club that meets three to five days a week.  Club meetings are held for 22 people at a time in a 12 x 14 foot room - the only light coming from the hallway.  Meetings are intense - they change you.  And when it's time to exit for a couple of cool down laps around the track, steam creeps up the edges of the mirror in front of the room and your whole weary troop files out.  Puddles of sweat make themselves known down the spinal column of everyone who exits here.   Almost silently, we walk like ducks - the only sound the click of cycling shoes on tile.  Even though we didn't talk about it, we understand.  We all know we just shared 60 pure minutes of fire-filled muscles for total body and mind transformation.

This is why I love spinning.