I’m so dizzy, because my legs are spinning
Last week I did something I had sworn I’d never do; and then I
did it again this week
– twice – and I’m glad I did. My reluctance stemmed from not
just the name of the activity, but who I thought participated in
it.
I’m so dizzy, because my legs are spinning
Last week I did something I had sworn I’d never do; and then I did it again this week – twice – and I’m glad I did. My reluctance stemmed from not just the name of the activity, but who I thought participated in it.
From what I’ve seen on TV, this event was the domain of women, done in a secret, mirrored lair, no men allowed.
Many men are prideful but one under-appreciated aspect of manliness is the ability to put that pride aside (at least that’s what I tell myself to feel better). So I checked pride at the door and walked into spin class at my gym last week.
I never would have done this had my wife not encouraged me to do so. It’s like when you see the guy holding his wife’s purse as she tries on clothes or you see a couple wearing matching clothes – on purpose. There are certain things men would not do if not for the persistent prodding of their partner.
For months my wife has talked about the benefits of spin class, which basically is 40 minutes of riding a stationary bike as fast as you can without sitting down while techno-club music bumps out of the stereo and the instructor barks instructions. You go nowhere fast and you can barely walk to your car afterward and that’s apparently a good thing.
For months I talked about the benefits of spending 40 minutes in a stationary position on my couch watching shows as fast as I could without standing up, with no music playing and no one telling me what to do.
Then the New Year approached and I realized that I had to shed a few pounds, so utilizing my gym membership suddenly became a priority.
When I told my wife about my sudden willingness to give spin class a shot, she was excited.
“You’re going to love it!” she promised, as I grumbled something about “I’ll try it once, but I’m probably going to be the only guy in there so that’ll be weird.”
As I have mentioned on my blog – which I have time to work on when I’m not spinning – my wife is a workout fiend. If she says she’s going to the gym, she’s going to the gym. She’s like the post office – neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays my wife from the swift completion of her rounds at the exercise machines.
If there were an earthquake that destroyed the gym, I believe she would climb through the rubble, dust off the seat of a spin bike, and get to work. I, too, am like the post office in that it takes me a couple of days to deliver on my promise of going to work out.
When we went to spin class for the first time, I insisted that we set up at the back of the room so the other participants would not have to watch me struggle. I didn’t want to be yelled at by the instructor or made fun of by the other spinners.
As it turns out, I rather enjoyed the workout. While I was the only male in this session, I didn’t feel out of place. Everyone was there to burn calories and work up a sweat, so they didn’t care what the person next to them or behind them was doing. We were all just trying to keep pace with the instructor.
I was trying not to look like a quitter, or more importantly, die. My legs felt like Jell-o by the time I was done, but it was a good pain. I felt it for two days, which only reminded me that muscles need to be worked out in order to get back into shape.
I went back this week and there were two other guys in the class with me. What’s more, I wasn’t the worst worker-outer there. I had to sit down a few times to rest, but I never stopped spinning.
Would I go there without my wife by my side? Probably not. Breaking out of my shell reminded me that if I can go postal (in an exercise sense) just a fraction of the amount that she does, I think it’ll deliver some results.
Adam Breen writes a blog at http://thebreenblog.blogspot.com and teaches newspaper and yearbook classes at San Benito High School. He is a reporter at The Pinnacle and former editor of The Free Lance.
