Spinning On A Whim

Looking for a way to be fitter than I am

 

So with minutes to spare on a Wednesday evening a quick schedule check,

Quick change and off to see if there was a space for me, room for this in my life.

 

Phew, 5 minutes early, do I sign up here or upstairs?

“You a member?  Yeh there’s one place left if you want it.”

 

Up stairs there seems to be only three bikes left unoccupied.  Yet everyone is already peddling away and the music is on; oh so loud.

 

Find one at the end and dump my bag by my side and my receipt with the teacher.

“You done this before?  I’ll help you setup.”  “Any conditions I need to know about?”  Mind swims; what would she need to know about, what do I know about?

 

“The seat is about right, a slight bend to the knee, if you need to bring the bars up but that looks fine.”

 

And with my feet strapped to the infernal machine I am off " well peddling furiously to stand still and not sure at all how tight to screw the red button.  Already thinking I am going to regret this in the morning, but hay its only for half an hour " twenty five minutes with a warm down.

 

Up goes the call over the pumping beat of the house music " “tighten enough for a level road” not sure what that means but I’m not going to make this too hard.  These old legs have known a lot of cycling in their time but not for a while now.  Has it really been five years since the regular cycle to work … judging by the rosé flush I see staring back from the mirror across the room it must have been.  These places always have mirrors so you can see how much fun / progress / pain you are making.

 

“Up off your saddle, relax the shoulders and the arms.  That’s right, bob to the beat keep it going.”  That’s easy for her to say; Ms slim & trim " 5 minutes in and already I have started to look at my watch and wonder how quickly the next 20 minutes will go by.

 

Not 100% sure what the point of going forward and back while whizzing along, but everyone else seems to know where we’re going and if not smiling seem to be enjoying this static safety of the gymnasium.  Frenetic is the only word for the flying feet strapped and trapped.  I spoke too soon I’m standing up; peddles scything round but I’ve only gone and slipped out.  Left leg flails while the bloody momentum of the flywheel jolts my other ankle and knee. 

 

No good got to stop.  Stop to become one again with machine, stop to go on.

 

The sweat is really starting to clog my eyes, my top, trickle down my back.  I must be looking bad; the teacher has descended hypo-podium and armed with paper towels offers me some sheets.  Everyone else has there own supply or a towel stuck in the handlebars.  What a novice and it shows.  But I’m not stopping.

 

Yes, 25 minutes in can’t be long now.  Or so I thought; Ms slim & trim bellows over the beat about the burn and on we hurtle.  This time sprints with dipping press-ups on the handle bars and joy of joys bobbing along out of the saddle with our bums stuck out behind.  For that all important … do I care? Do I really care by this point.  No all I can think about is how my legs are going to have their own back on me and what can I get away with to show willing but no suicidal.

 

Slow for count of eight.  Left side pedal, Right side pedal, on the level sprint and relax.  Yes the heart pounding sweat sapping but finally it’s freewheeling. 

 

While cloths are sticking, holding me we stretch (if a little wobbly) and whip down our iron steeds.

 

Cloths still fight tired muscles in the changing room but the sauna calls. 

 

And relax with other heat monkeys some from my class others chillaxing from a swim.  Only now do I overhear a spinning comrade announce how good Louise’s classes are compared to the earlier session.  How my assumption of spaces on the bikes was due to unpopularity do to something lacking was a fantasy " “she really works you a lot more than those other saps; you get a proper workout”.