Social Workout

Workout

Rolling Along . . .

I went to my first spin class in about four years today. It was also probably my third spon class ever, the reason being that I tend to avoid spin like the plague, because the thought of being chained (metaphorically, but still) to a bike for 45+ minutes of quad-burning hell sounds like about as much fun as, well, being chained to a bike for 45+ minutes of quad-burning hell. But I missed the class I'd intended to attend by about five minutes, and so it was either spin or sprint (out the door, into the nearest patisserie).

I thought long and hard about the benfits of throwing myself into a very-likely-above-my-fitness-level workout vs. eating a financier in shame, and I finally decided to suck it up and join the pedaling frenzy.

Just as I suspected, my thought process for about the first thirty minutes of the class was something along the lines of: I hate this. I HATE this. Oh my God I'm going to die. My legs are going to give way and I'm going to pass out and/or throw up. Maybe I should try to think more positively. I. HATE. THIS.

But I have to say, once I gave in, owned the fact that I'd actually chosen to be there and focused in on the motion of my body (which wasn't hard, because once you really get pedaling, you can feel all of your untoned bits wobbling around you ... how's that for motivation to keep at it), trembly legs and all, I embraced that fact that I was doing something good for myself. And when we finally stopped to stretch and I discovered that my entire body was pretty much drenched in sweat, I felt pretty damn good about having stuck with it.

Even if I did take a few liberties when turning up the resistance (shhhh. . .)