Pedal...

It's 7AM and I hate the world. Who wants to wake up at 7 on a Saturday? Not this guy. I'm exhausted from the night before and I want nothing more than to wrap my self up like a burrito (from Chipotle... delicious) and go back to bed until the more normal hour of 11. But alas, it is not meant to be. I force myself up because today is my first time attending a spin class. Ryann convinced me it would be a good idea and so I set my alarm leaving enough time to wake up, get dressed and speed down to the gym before class starts at 7:30. 

Now, why have I been so hesitant to try out a spin class? Let me tell you. The equipment scared the crap out of me. As a fat person, I have broken my share of furniture. Just ask Fit Andrew's sister Sarah. That poor chair. I am terrified that this bike, while made for the purpose of exercise, will not be able to support me. Believe it or not, you can be too fat to use a piece of exercise equipment (thanks for nothing, Wii Fit). Who's to say this bike won't crumble when I sit down or when I'm supposed to stand on the bike and pedal like I'm going uphill? Unless you're the manufacturer, that person is not you, so don't get too excited.

I enter the room of death (that's how I will be referring to the spin room for the remainder of the post) and do not recognize anyone other than Ryann. I honestly don't even know where to start. Forget the old colloquialism of 'it's like riding a bike' because it's riding a bike that's not meant to go anywhere. It's a completely different thing.

Thankfully, Ryann is helping someone else who's new (I love you, other new person) and I don't have to worry about being the only first-timer. She teaches us the gear-shifting and where our seats and handle bars should be and then we get started. Okay, this should be fine. If I need to, I can pretend (thanks to my acting training) to shift to a harder gear.

Song starts, we start pedaling. Wow, it's a smooth ride. I try shifting up and down to see how things change. Nice. Not too scary. Until the song really gets going. Pedaling with the beat would be causing so much chafing that I might need to be hospitalized. So I go as fast as I can while preserving my thigh skin. And it's still really fast. Within minutes, my legs burn. And here comes a 'push it' section where we're supposed to stand. Holy crap, this bike is going to tip over and I'm going to be decapitated and everyone in this room will be so traumatized that they'll never exercise again, but no. The bike incredibly remains upright. Cool.

Now spin class is very repetitive, so allow me to pull out some highlights for you. First, about twenty minutes into the fifty minute workout, I start to regret my decision to not bring water or a towel. Not only is my sweat flying, but I am thirsty to the point where I actual think I could be in danger. I know that sounds serious, and it is because hydration is important, but keep in mind that I tend to exaggerate. So I make to the decision at the end of the song to go to the locker room and grab the empty water bottle I brought (honestly, I was really stupid) fill it up, and grab the extra shirt I brought to use as a towel. I then head back into the room of death. Hopefully Ryann didn't worry about me leaving and didn't think I was quitting. Don't care too much and don't care too little. It's a fine line.

Towards the end of the workout, we're on our second to last song and it's a really tough one. It's got a lot of gear changes and a lot of standing and sitting and pedaling really fast. Now, I in no way fault Ryann for what happens next; she's doing exactly what she's supposed to do. In order to get us to push hard, she simply utters this sentence: "Come on push it, we're all here for a reason." In my vulnerable state (I have been on a bike for essentially 40 minutes at this point) I let that statement sink in. I think, 'Yeah, I am here for a reason. I'm sick of being a fat person and of feeling like I'm missing out on life. I'm sick of not going to the beach because I don't want to take my shirt off. I'm sick of not playing sports because I don't think I can run. I waited until I turned 26 to take my life back and that was the dumbest thing I could have done.' 

So I start crying. And this is not an exaggeration. I'm not full on uncontrollably weeping, but tears are coming and I can't look up because I don't want other people to see. I'm keeping my head down and crying because I'm mad that I didn't care about myself enough to do this sooner. I'm mad because I was for some reason okay with not living my life to the fullest. And I have no one to blame but myself. Dammit now Coldplay comes on so I start crying more. On a spin bike is not necessarily the most ideal time to have an epiphany of such a caliber.

Class is over and immediately I look back and think my situation is hilarious. I was just crying on a bike in a spin class. And it's okay if you want to laugh, too. It's a funny picture. But my actual thoughts are sticking with me and this is becoming about more than just a thing I do to blog about. I'm telling you, exercise does amazing things to not just your body, but to your mind. Also, a guy from the spin class tells me he's read my blog and likes it, so feeling like a celebrity is a pretty decent side effect of all this.