In my endeavors to try and lose weight, my new venture is spinning.
Not old-school sit~n~spin.
Straight-up-hardcore-full-throttle-aerobics on a stationary bike.
Holy hell, kids- this has got to be mega fat-burning or mega-cardiac-arrest inducing. Or both. My West-Coast-Sistah Marsha told me that spinning a couple days a week is her secret of her rock-hard fabness. I had told my friend Jennifer here about it. We giggled in awe, like no way- we totally should, but no, it…it…might be hard, right?
Well……my little friend Jennifer has totally gotten on FIRE to get healthy and in shape and I am so blessed she’s taking me along on this ride. She said last year I inspired her but nope, she has me beat. She calls one day a couple weeks ago and just told me straight-up, very matter-of-factly that our local gym had guest passes at the desk for us and we were going to the 6pm Thursday class.
Oh wow. She ain’t playin’.
Jennifer calls our friend Shannon who is a gym member and very fit. She tells her our plan and asks if she spins. Shannon replies “ARE YOU CRAZY?? THOSE PEOPLE IN THERE LOOK LIKE THEY ARE WORKING WAY TOO HARD!!”. But she is intrigued as well and joins us- I think the potential of how wrong this could all go was alluring. I know that was part of my draw….
We are excited!
We watch a video on YouTube of what spin is!
We are TERRIFIED!
Yet we go….
First thing I noticed is the spin class is in it’s own little theater room. When you walk in, it’s about 8 degrees. I could have peddled the bike with my frosted nipples if my ‘lightly-lined’ bra wasn’t so thick. There are big industrial fans in the corners of the room. These were my big clues that spinning is no frikkin’ game.
A spin bike is a very scary & serious contraption. Being an almost-midget, I was trying to figure out what door the Oompa-Loompas were supposed to come out of to help hoist my fat-arse up and on to this thing. Not to mention STRAP MY FEET TO THE PEDALS. One of the trainers in the class saw that we were almost too stupid to make this happen and bless her heart, she got our bikes arranged, got us strapped in, and away we went.
And did we ever went. Holy Mary, Mother of God, this has to have been THE most intense exercise I have EVER done. Mind you, we just did what we could which was about 1/8th of what the other people were doing. I sweated in places I didn’t know could, had sweat dripping off my nose, my chin, breathing like a one-legged hooker trying to ice skate and not spill her bourbon.
Now let me go back to how scary the spin bike is. The seat on this thing is smaller than what’s on my 8 year olds BMX. My butt has passed things bigger than this seat. I’m sure of it. I am supposed to stay somewhat precariously propped/perched on this thing for an HOUR?
We made it through class. THE WHOLE CLASS!! I was so proud of us because trust me, the want-to to stop was there. But none of us wanted to be the quitter. So we did it together. And it was awesome!
But let’s get back to my ass.
Stepping off/falling off/unanchoring this wee seat from my ass was painful. We had become one. I thought once my ass & crack went numb, that all would be well. Nope. Once you remove the teeny BMX-ass-tampon from position, you regain blood flow to your nether regions. Maybe that’s why you work so hard- figuring if you can just get where the hell you are going on this bike, your bum will be safe.
I felt like I had been ass-raped by a splintered telephone pole.
For 2 days.
They tell us once you do about 5 classes, it doesn’t hurt anymore. I think that statement is right up there with ‘The check is in the mail” and “I promise I’ll pull it out”.
But I must’ve liked something as I am now a card-carrying member of the gym. Maybe I just want to test the 5 class theory or test to see if one really can break their ass.
Just remember kids, what doesn’t kill you will make you….more susceptible to hemorrhoids.
Lisa Lisa, No Cult Jam Required 