If you’ve been reading my blog, you probably know a few things about me. You probably know that I hate strenuous activity, being bored, and watching dook win national championships. You probably also know that I love to complain.
Here’s something you don’t know about me: I’ve started to live by the phrase “do it for the blog.” It’s basically me convincing myself to do things I know I might hate with the hope of producing a good blog post… because you people are filthy animals and all you really want to do is read my complainy blogs (I see you, 100 people that read my hiking blog and haven’t read any of the others…).
Cue soundtrack music for the rest of the blog.
Because I’m “doing it for the blog,” I decided to do something that I was sure would inspire some good complaining at the very least: I went to my first spin class. Flywheel, to be specific (apparently it matters). I was expecting it to be a lot like that scene in Bridget Jones’ Diary when she tries to lose a bunch of weight because Hugh Grant is mean to her.
Except nobody was mean to me, and I really just went because the class was free.
I’ve always been so impressed by people who go to spin classes (I call them “spin girls” in my head). There’s just something so enticing about those big Soul Cycle and Flywheel studios in New York. It’s like everyone who walks in or out is insanely sporty-hot.
(I will never be sporty-hot because even if I could get to the hot stage, I could never achieve sporty status. Why oh why will I never look good in a sporty braid? Why do Lululemon headbands make me look like a balding middle school boy?)
Anyway, I went to Flywheel in Cameron Village with four of my friends and it was AWESOME. I really really planned to hate it. I don’t even really like riding bikes! Bikes are stressful and painful and people do things like yell at you when you’re not going fast in the fast lane and HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW THERE WAS A FAST LANE IN A PARK.
So spin class: you get in there and everyone working there is beautiful and fit and you’re like oh lord am I joining a cult? And then they turn the lights off and turn up the music and you’re like oh yeah, Kimmy Schmidt was right… this is a cult.
And then you start biking and suddenly it’s just you and the bike and you start to think that if spin class cults are wrong, you don’t want to be right!
And your butt kinda hurts because the seat is uncomfortable but SHE SAID TO TURN UP MY TORQ SO BY GOLLY I WILL.
And then she’s like, “have you been holding back? Now’s the time to go all the way! Don’t leave here wishing you’d given it your all!”
And you’re like SHE’S RIGHT I AM SO STRONG I CAN DO ANYTHING.
And then class is over before you know it and your legs feel like jello and you realize that maybe, just maybe, you don’t work very hard on the elliptical after all.
And then you go to Moe’s because it’s right across the street and you’re hungry and you love Moe’s and you’re only human.