Spinnin' wheel got to go round....

Remember that Blood, Sweat, and Tears song "Spinnin' Wheel"???

What goes up must come down

Spinnin' wheel got to go 'round

Talkin' 'bout your troubles it's a cryin' sin

Ride a painted pony let the spinnin' wheel spin...

Well, I gotta say, the name of the group is apropos if associated with a spinning class. Course, when Blood, Sweat, and Tears was around, (this song came out in 1969, I think) there wasn't anything like spinning classes. Fitness was not "in" in those days (Jack LaLanne was WAY ahead of his time).....It would have been looked at as ridiculous to sit in a room and ride a top heavy one wheeled stationary bike until you wanted to throw up, while having an instructor urge you on to feel the pain and sweat like a pig. Back then, it was more like, light up a cigarette, fix a rum and Coke, and do a little Bugaloo (twist, jerk, whatever) (Holy Cow, I'm old).

I mean doesn't "spinning" sound like FUN? Didn't we all do that when we were kids? WEEEEEEEEEE, WE'RE SPINNING!! (Then throwing up sometimes) And wasn't riding a bike FUN??? Yeah! Let's see how fast I can go....then stick my head up in the air and feel the wind blow through my hair while I glide down the hills of my neighborhood........Please do not extrapolate those images and feelings out to what a spinning class may be............

Anyway, I bravely went to the class, not knowing exactly how it would play out.

I had heard of spinning and knew that it was a stationary bike on which the resistance can be adjusted so one may get the benefit of riding up and down hills and help power the cardio system in a nice workout.

The female instructor was fit....... muscular and tan, sculpted, toned, and enthusiastic....................Oh crap..................A happy sadist that wants me to be my best and to push myself hard so that I may have the benefit of health. What the heck had I been thinking???

So there sat the bikes, and all of these people that come every week..........Seriously, I was about 20 years older than the rest of them, surely I have an excuse to turn around and walk away?? There were 3 newbies, the other two were still younger than me, but in better shape. One I knew as a colleague and she was happy to see me there, but this lovely lady weighs.......... no exaggeration........probably 90 pounds soaking wet. She is a tiny little thing and perfectly proportioned, I need a big girl in there with me.......

Now let me just say that I have lost 90 pounds, so I have been feeling pretty good about myself, but again, as I got on that bike I was feeling fat, fat, fat...And the work-out clothes I was wearing? It was stuff I had before I lost the 90 pounds, so not only do I feel fat, I looked like I had been dumpster diving at Omar the tent-maker fashion house......

So we start...hip hop music blaring, instructor with her mic on telling us we were going to work it today, listen to our bodies, and push it hard...........I am in BIG trouble.

Did I say the class is 45 minutes long..............45 minutes of non-stop spinning..........the RPMs lighting up on the display before us so that we may see how hard we are working it? I don't think I have spent 45 minutes doing ANYTHING continuous in my ENTIRE life. I just don't have that kind of focus. For Pete's sake, I can't even watch an hour on television without having to get up and do something........what is going to happen here???

So, with my feet safely stationed in the pedals of the bike I begin to spin.........or at least I THINK I begin to spin.....the pedals won't move..............this will never do........wait, wait, forgot there was a lever to adjust the resistance.......I am assuming that the "minus" sign means less resistance, so down we go...... OK, now I can pedal, or spin , or whatever it is.

Rather than give a play by play of what happens next, just think of it as keeping the RPMs of the bike wheel between 80 and 110 at various degrees of resistance. We started out on a "flat" road (close your eyes and think you are outside enjoying the weather) to going up a 45 degree hill, to gliding downhill at an amazing pace......(when I went down hill riding bikes, I let gravity do it, not the pedals...)

The instructor telling us all the way when to:

"Notch it up a bit"

when to go down hill.......

when to go up hill............

when to stand up and pedal............

when to sit down and pedal..........

notch it up.........You should be at 90!!

notch it up.... Make it 100!!

notch it up..... 110!! Now come on it's DOWNHILL

WORK IT PEOPLE!!...... Its GOOD for you!

Does it SUCK to be you right now??? GOOD....... its GOOD for you!!

...............I think I got to 80 once..............without movin that knob one bit...............

The instructor wanted us to listen to our bodies......and I did......

The problem was that after about 5 minutes, my legs were saying:

"OK, that's enough....good job today girl, now relax and have a cookie."

After 20 minutes my legs were saying:

"You really need to stop, this is not pleasant and we are going to rebel shortly!"

After 30 minutes, the brain chimed in:

"Hey, what the heck? You trying to prove something here? The legs are done for crying out loud and do you see those spots in front of your eyes? That could be broken blood vessels for all I know, you don't want me to stroke out do you??"

But I prevailed................for 45 minutes I kept that wheel spinning..............Not at 110 not at 90, but I kept it spinning....

I never stood up and pedaled.........I tried once, but I couldn't make it happen......my body just laughed and laughed.....

Can I tell you what the worst thing was of the whole ordeal??? Not the pain, not the sweat, not the face that was flushed red from exertion, not the spots before my eyes, or the fear that my legs feeling like pieces of old rubber bands would give way when I finally took myself off that piece of torture equipment......it was the stinkin' seat on the bicycle...............

Why do they have to have those seats that split the permanent vertical smile like a sword?? And why do they have to have a mirror the full length of one wall so that if you turn and look you see that you hang on that seat like Baby Huey? You think my legs were talking to me??? You should have heard what my butt was screamin in my ear........