The Stairs Were My Frenemies

Oh. My. God.

Tonight I had the pleasure, pain and overwhelming adrenaline-rushed joy of attending my first spin class at my gym. Like so many amazing experiences, it was decided on a whim. I planned on meeting my friend Janelle and doing a little elliptical while catching up on TV; you know, the sort of workout a former (eh-hum) athlete who is just beginning to flirt with a regular physical routine again resigns to.

Said ellipticals were full. I tried to get on one lonely machine, which turned out to be broken. Then Janelle comes up and says, "Do you want to do the Free Wheelin' class?"

Janelle is young, energetic and most importantly, in great shape. I think about it, and I was a bit frightened and intimidated. I heard once that spin class instructors turn off the lights, play loud techno, and yell things at you like "We're approaching a hill" and "Sprint faster. FASTER!"

Hmm...

But my curious, thrill-seeking self trumped my scaredy-cat self. I said, "Sure. Why the hell not?"

I obtained my class pass from the front desk; apparently, people love this spinning stuff so much you have to reserve a spot. We arrive 15 minutes early. Fifteen minutes. And there are people already settling in, warming up, adjusting their bikes. Some of them are in cycling gear. I was beginning to get a little warm with that intimidation thing again.

Janelle helps me adjust my handles. The seat seems just right. I think to myself, "What a bad day to forget to snag a water bottle from the work fridge."

The instructor arrived, and I pontificate whether or not he consumed a six- or twelve-pack of Red Bull prior. This guy was PUMPED. We begin fairly aggressively peddling during the warm up (or, I'm just that out of shape), and quickly proceed to flat road, hill-climbing, sprinting, flat road, rolling hills, sprinting, hill-climbing. Then take 10 seconds for a water break (Shit; forgot my water). Then repeat. All in intervals.

Yes, the class opened with "Single Ladies," and there was even a guest appearance by J. Geils Band. (I LOVE that the instructor asked for a show of hands for those born before 1980, because I waived mine proudly in between gasps for air.) We rocked out to "Angel is the Centerfold," which actually made the semi-excruciating sprints fun.

We were 30 minutes into the class, and I wasn't ready to pass out! I was so proud...even with my taken-down-a-notch peddling during some of the hill-climbing. (You have to stand, while peddling, after adjusting your resistance quite high. Need I say more?)

More intervals.

The flat road, hill climbing, sprinting, rolling hills, sprinting, hill climbing, flat road, sprinting. Take a break for water (Shit.) Then "Sprint ,sprint, sprint, and get what you want outta this class!" (Something like that; I may have blacked out from pushing myself hard. But not unsafely hard. It felt good.)

After two final minutes of the crazy sprint, we were done. It was cool-down time, which included some of the best stretching I've ever had. I'm talking euphoria, people. I felt so amazing at the end of class. I thanked Janelle a dozen or so times for suggesting the class at all (and for the ride home, too...it's freaking cold out there!) And most of all, I thanked myself for having the guts to give it a shot.

On our way to the locker room, we walked down the two unnaturally high sets of stairs, and my legs almost gave out. They were Jell-O. It felt so good to not feel them at all.

"Drink lots of water tonight," Janelle warned me. "I didn't the first time I did this class, and the next morning my muscles were really sore."

If you'll excuse me, I need to refill my glass.