When people first meet me, the thing that often comes to mind is- “Damn. That girl is hilarious.” The second thing is- “She must be fit.” No, I don’t work out. I’m very lazy. People are often fooled because I’m slender, but I hate sports. Slender does not make a person fit. I played soccer when I was younger but that is the standard for little kids. I would stick my children in a sport if only to keep them away from me. (We’ll talk Motherhood later.) I also ran track in middle school. I think this was a mistake. Even my Mom was shocked that I somehow made the track team. Maybe it was because my friends were on the team, or maybe it was my Student Government pull. My events were the high jump and the 100 meter hurdles. TWO EVENTS. Come to think of it, it probably was because I was in Student Government. I know, I know. It’s shocking to hear about the politics of Middle School. Don’t get me started on my Orchestra clique. (Another topic for another time.) Anyway, I made the track team thanks to my connections. These connections couldn’t save me from my Middle School track experience which consisted mainly of huge bruising from not clearing the bar and grating my legs against the track.
That is pretty much the extent of my background in the fitness game. I’m glad I was able to catch you up in literally a paragraph. Don’t let it blow your mind. I recently got back into (I don’t know if I was ever really “in”) being active. I’ve started to go to Yoga. This has inevitably given me the idea that because I do Yoga that I can perform any athletic task. Should I take these extreme Ballet Barre classes? Yes- I do yoga. Cut to six stupid classes later, I can barely maintain my shaking leg on the barre. Do I want to run a 5k? Yes- I do yoga. Cut to 40 excruciating minutes later, I’ve managed to convince my friend Nicole that walking the better half of a 5k is good for you. She dragged me along the last leg of it, but I finished it! Probably because of the yoga. (Side note: She’s done two additional 5ks since that one with me, and I have tried relentlessly to finish the Couch to the 5k running plan. I’ll keep you posted.) This brings me to the point of this blog. Last week, my friend Ashley texted me. She hadn’t seen me in such a long time and suggested that I accompany her to her regular spin class that evening. I suggested that we follow spinning with Margaritas, and we had a plan. Obviously, I knew that I could do a spin class because I do yoga now. Tara and I once did a spin class in college. We decided that we were Seniors and never really used our gym at FSU to its full potential. We eagerly printed out the class schedule and committed to a spin class one evening after class. Two pints of sweat and the onset of delirium later, we stumbled off of the stationary bikes. This was when we realized that the gym was situated on a hill. We had to regroup on a bench outside the gym before attempting to exert any energy to walk down said hill. Our asses were handed to us that day. We made it home that night eventually- although I think I blacked out on the drive home, too. To say that it killed us would be putting it lightly. It DESTROYED us. It pulverized the muscles in our legs, and we didn’t walk for a month. I have nightmares about that class. Logically, I came to the conclusion that I would take another spin class with my estranged friend, Ashley.
I met Ashley at her gym, and she was pumped. I, on the other hand, had that feeling that you have when you are watching a scary movie, and the killer is about to brutally murder the beautiful, witty, yet clueless at the same time, girl who probably does yoga. I followed Ashley into the spin room and picked out a bike far, far in the back. Look, I don’t care if they turn the lights off. This is not the time to be the person who sits at the front of the room. I strapped in one foot… and strapped in the other… Ashley tried to get me as excited as she was by telling me that her teacher made amazing musical mixes for the class. Okay, I could get on board with that. I like crazy techno beats. I like feeling like I’m dancing and not dying on a stationary bike. The class finally started, and my worst fears were realized. I hate spin. No matter how tight I strapped in my feet, they kept escaping. A plea for me to leave. I couldn’t rise off the bike; I couldn’t pretend that I was going uphill. And that amazing mix that Ashley was telling me about? I couldn’t hear anything but my heart pounding loudly in my ears. Then, my heart was drowned out by this ringing. I was pretty sure I was on the verge of passing out when Ashley tried to talk to me during the class. Was she serious? I couldn’t hear anything, nor could I read her lips. It was dark, and I was seeing spots on top of that. Who knows what she said to me? “Hey, Amelia! You’re bleeding.” or “Hey! Your shoe just flew across the room. Strap in those feet!”
The class was over in the longest 45 minutes of my life. It was longer than the last hour of work. After my second attempt at spinning, I felt even worse than the first time. There was no best friend there to commiserate with. This Ashley lady was one serious spinner. Then, as if it couldn’t get any worse, I backed out of margaritas to go lay in a hole somewhere. Spin had bested me yet again. Well played, Spin Class. Well played.