Thursday, January 19, 2012

Spinning, the other 1%'rs

     If you've been following me for any length of time, you will remember my "Hell on Wheels" blog on 9/22. The "day the stationary bike took a big hit". If you recall that you will love this.
     I took my first spinning class last night. Yeah, how hard is that? You say,"But I've been spinning ever since I was a little kid; sometimes clockwise, sometimes counterclockwise". "If I drink a whole bunch and lay down, I get the spins without even trying". Well, it ain't that kind of spinning. It's 2012! if you say you're "spinning" you are not falling in love, you are not missing out on being promoted, heck you ain't even stuck on the ice, you are riding a stationary bike. People actually pay money, buy cool, specialty clothing and brag about going to spinning class.
     I've been going to the gym for quite some time and I've been watching. The "bikers" as I like to call them, are kind of like a biker gang (or club if you actually happen to belong to a gang). They walk in together, probably subscribing to the whole "safety in numbers" thing. They dress very similar. (albeit spandex as opposed to leather) But most obvious, they are territorial. At the gym, there are usually a row of at least 12 bikes nestled close together in a staging area. If you have an inclination to risk an ass whippin' from a lanky, pale biker wearing spandex shorts, touch their bike. Which one is theirs? They all look identical. How would you know? Oh, they know. Right before class, they start ambling around. Just like in the parking lot of Big Al's Boozery. You just know some thing's getting ready to go down. They're eyeing the whole row, eyes squinting. You try and pass by one of them, on the left, to get to the changing room or water fountain and you start a series of events that just can not be recalled. Like hot iron being jerked from smooth leather, someone whips a towel from around their neck an overhands it onto the handlebars of "this" bike, Before you can even react, there she is behind you, pulling a water bottle from her bag, like some sparancha in Tia juana, drawing a stiletto and slamming it into the bottle holder on "that" bike. Your brain gets stymied. Fight of Flight? Quickly, you reach for the handlebars of the bike on the end, the bike with a broken foot pedal. Surely that one is safe, but before your had touches chrome, some 73 year old lady,with her sweat pants pulled up to her arm pits, is in your face asking you why your trying to take her bike. You recoil in disbelief as the mob begins to turn on you wanting to know, "why you are messing with Old Lady Harriet's bike!" You push you palms tightly against your temples. You want them to stop. "My God", you scream, and shout that you are a spinning rookie and you just want to take the class. The bucket list, of life long desires you wish to accomplish, that come before the one that says, Breech Spinning Class Protocol, is gigantic. Before you can cry out for Curtis Silwa http://www.ntsmediaonline.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/08/image001.jpg , things go BLACK.
     Slowly you wake from a groggy state of dreaminess. You realize there is a crowd of people looking down at you, and they are not angels. (Not Hell's Angels either). The waft of smelling salts held under your nose, jerks you back to the reality of it all. You cautiously look around the room, panning the crowd to see who exactly hit you in the back of the head with a black jack; But just like the parking lot at Big Al's, you can't identify anyone. The reason? Spinning class started 15 minutes ago, and they're all in the other room riding like they are trying to put 100 miles between them and your sorry backside.  If you ask any of them, they'll tell you, they can't help it, they were just born to ride.
     Lucky for me, I knew the secrete handshake, and that did not happen to me. I got my bike and I rode with that crew.I can't really talk about what we did, but I will say I burned over 2000 calories on that ride. I must have held my own, because the lead guy, Mike, invited me back next week. "Cool", I said, nothing more. I headed out to the parking lot, hopped into my truck, put on the Allman Brothers and drove home. COOL
 http://www.javelinexperiential.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/05/fonzie-on-bike.jpg

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