For those of you who know me, you probably know I'm not the most athletic person you'll ever meet. Sure, I'm a great ballet or jazz dancer, and I can hold my own among the yogis, but if you've ever seen me attempt to kick a soccer ball, or spike a volleyball over the net, you'll know what I'm talking about. Once, I even caught my
own out in kickball. I'm telling you, it takes talent to be as uncoordinated as I am. Which is why, in hindsight, I really can't believe I'm alive enough to even type this right now. You see, my co-workers (my athletic, kick ass, beautiful, driven, take-no-prisoners-attitude co-workers) talked me into signing up for
FLYWHEEL. And people,
I lived to tell the tale.
It all started when a colleague of mine suggested that a few of us get together after work one day to try out Flywheel, the latest spinning sensation. Granted, this is a woman who was a college athlete, and has clearly been on more bikes than I. Excited and naive, I obliged and signed up for the class, thinking, "YES! I AM WOMAN! HEAR ME ROAR!" Her anecdotes of the classes she had experienced sounded fun, and I figured if it wasn't for me, I could politely decline next time, knowing I gave it a shot. After all, my
New Year's resolutions included "Say Yes" and "Live Better," so clearly I couldn't say no.
Now, If you're thinking you know what I'm talking about when I say spinning class, you really don't. This is spinning on steroids. Below is how Flywheel describes it. I, on the other hand, describe it as a heart-pounding, oxygen-robbing, aggressive, terrifying, exhilarating, inspiring experience. And that was all in the first 10 minutes.
In general, I'm of the opinion that any good workout should make you hate the instructor and wish you could pass out so it will all just be over. That means you're pushing yourself to a new level. This was definitely that kind of workout. I'm sure on any other day, if I met our instructor on the street, I'd find her engaging, funny, and would be super jealous of her figure; but in the context of our class, I really, really wanted hate her.
I will agree, however, that my body was challenged and my mind was relaxed, in an
"I can't think of anything but how much I want this to be over" kind of way. In the end I felt proud for doing something different, new, and somewhat Herculean, and I will definitely be going back. Perhaps it's best to walk you through the experience step by step, (via my inner monologue, of course):
(t-48 hrs) | Yes! I just signed up for this new thing -- I don't
really know what it is, but I know it will be AWESOME! You GO Glen Coco!*
(t-24 hrs) | Okay, starting to get a little nervous. Maybe I was a little too overzealous when I made that reservation. But I can't back out now. Better suck it up.
(t-20 hrs) | Gotta pack my bag, gotta have my Flywheel gear 'cause it's Flywheel, Flywheel, gettin' down on Flywheel, everybody's lookin' forward to the spinning class. Party it, party it (yeah)! Party it, party it (yeah)! Fun, fun, fun, fun....I wonder if I should I bring my inhaler...Nah.**
(t-5 hrs) | College-athlete co-worker asks if I'm pumped for the class. Outside, I give an enthusiastic "You know it!" -- Inside, I'm terrified of falling off the bike.
(t-15 mins) | Shoot, what user name did I sign up with? Do I want to be on the Torqboard? Um, no. Let's skip the humiliation for the day. Also, what are these shoes?
(start of class) | You can do this. You can do this. HOLY....look at our instructor's arms. Yes. I WILL look like that.
(5 mins in) | Wow. I'm out of breath already? This is not good. Where did I put my inhaler?
(10 mins in) | I wonder if people pass out in this class. Guess it wouldn't matter, since we're clicked into the bike. Oops, there goes my water bottle cap. This is not going well.
(15 mins in) | Nope, not lighting my fire, not making me feel better. I kind want to die, actually.
(20 mins in) | Yep. I'm officially dying. At least I'll go down like a bad ass. Clearly this is called FLYwheel because people drop like flies.
(25 mins in) | How can the instructor keep up her pace and still talk like a normal person? She is amazing. This is insanity.
(30 mins in) | Hey I like this song. Wait, I think she's yelling at me. Yes, definitely me. But seriously.
Look at her arms. Okay. Do this.
(35 mins in) | Did she
really just make us pick up the weights to do arms at the same time as spinning? I definitely deserve a glass of wine tonight.
(40 mins in) | 5 more minutes. 5 more minutes. 5 more minutes.
(end of class) | Don't mind me, I'm just going to melt off the bike.
(home) | I feel great! I don't know what I was thinking back there when my legs were about to fall off. I love spinning! (lifts arms in shower to shampoo) Ouch, that's going to hurt tomorrow. This definitely calls for a Glen Coco moment. Maybe two. And a glass of wine.
You GO Glen Coco!
Interested in signing up for a FLYWHEEL class? Here's the
Seattle site. See you there! I'll be the one happily struggling.
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*No, Glen Coco is not my alter ego, but it is the ultimate self-high five. If you don't know who Glen Coco is, clearly you did not grow up in the Mean Girls era, and have not seen the greatest movie on earth. I strongly suggest you correct that immediately.
**Yes, I still use an inhaler for my exercise-induced asthma. Coupled with my love for books and inability to see without glasses, growing up I was the ultimate nerd. Leave your judgement on the floor.