Sticky

I am still going to spinning and loving it; for the most part.


All last week, every instructor that I had, had something going for them, if they had a slightly gnawing personality, they at least had some banging music; or if the music was somewhat lacking, they were super nice and inspiring. I was on an instructor roll; that is until Tuesday. I meant to recount this story, Wednesday but some bad shit happened, that merited some respect; so I kept it to myself. But lightning never strikes twice and when it does the story must be told.


On Tuesday I strayed out of my normal radius and went to a spin class in north Edmonton, with Christopher and Suzy. It started well, we went in, adjusted our bikes and the older, Billy Blanks-esque, instructor walked in. He seemed like he would be somewhat intense, but nothing I couldn’t personally handle. Well, I don’t think they have a name for the intensity level of this man.


Where do I begin; he had the worst music I have ever heard, and that is saying a lot. I am rather lenient when it comes to music in aerobic classes, I understand that it needs be a certain level of intensity in order to get people moving; but, his was a mix of terrible techno, the kind you would hear in a warehouse on the outskirts of Toronto, pure rave, but not the fun kind, the kind that induces seizures; and, that horrid techno was mixed with this heavy rock-like dance, I wouldn't even know how to describe it, except as bad.


Now I would let the music slide, if he had some sort of redeeming personality trait I could discern, he didn’t. He hoots along to the music, barking, howling, whistling; at several points, on the beat, he would yell “tick, tock, tick, tock, SPINNNNN”. And he would refer to the resistance on the bike as “stick”, which is fine. But he would say “sticky” over and over and over again; “ride, stickyyyyy, ride”. When a man is dripping sweat, breathing heaving, and saying “sticky” then preceeds to lick the dripping sweat from his lip, I can only think of one thing. I couldn’t focus, not because I am in any way attracted to him, but I couldn’t help picturing him, mounting some woman, and just giving it to her saying “take it bitch, it’s stickyyy”; which IS more than I can handle.


And as if the music and the fucking connotations weren’t enough, he calls people out. My friend Chris was having multiple leg cramps, so I was leaning over, quietly advising him that maybe he should go walk on the treadmill and just cool it, I must have missed the instructors instruction to turn up the resistance, at which point he yells, not an inside yell, but outside yells at me “HEY, I’M WATCHING YOU!” Now I am not the type of student who responds well to that sort of drill sergeant leadership, I prefer to be inspired rather than frightened into peddling. This membership costs me $44.00 a month; I will peddle as fast or as slow as I want for fuck sakes.


After this dreadful class, I vow to never take a spin class with this man again, I really don’t want anything to get in the way of my new found love of exercise. But, lo and behold, yesterday I walk into the class and who is there but Mean Billy Blanks. I actually said out loud “FUCK”; but, I was there, so I had to take the damn class. This time he was a little better, he only said sticky once, there was a song that I could tolerate and I had a spot dead in the back, where he couldn’t see me; not bad at all. Except he has some sort of fan club, because there was heckler, oh yes a heckler. This woman, who would continually “hoot”, “oh yeah” and call the instructor out. She kept calling him a chicken for what reason, I have no idea. I thought that Mean Billy was too much to handle, but this bitch was riding my last nerve by the end. I mean, this isn’t a comedy club, this is an exercise class, heckle somewhere else. And as if she couldn’t be any more undesirable, she brought her phone to the class and answers a call during it. Granted she stepped out to take it, but come on, it's an hour, we can all detach for one hour.



I am hoping this is last run in I have with this man and his fan.


Other than that, I love my spin!

Spin Revisited

So as promised, I went to another spin class; and, I think I am in love! I love to spin. It funny, I stayed away from classes because I a) didn’t want to look like an idiot and b) well, I didn’t want to look like an idiot. Also every other group type of exercise I have done in the last 3 years makes me cringe at the thought. Bikram yoga made me want to pass out and I almost did; I was also with someone who actually did. Running jostles my brain and my insides, leaving me with a screaming headache and the urge to vomit. Swimming, now I love swimming, and I will most certainly swim when the weather is appropriate; but, it is freezing outside and with my hair (extreme curl re: nappy), it just isn’t happening. With spinning, I leave exhilarated, not exhausted and my hair stays dry.

So I was already falling hard for spinning and today’s instructor threw me head over heels. His music was out of this world amazing, as far as exercise classes go. In most classes, we are forced to endure the shittiest techno with those ridiculous 90’s dance vocals. But not David, at the Glenore World Health Club location, oh no Malcolm played, Shakira, MIA, Lady Gaga and Coldplay; I mean, yes there was some horrid 90’s dance vocals but overall he gets a passing grade. Good music is the key; it felt like the class was 20 minutes, because I was lost in the music.

The only downside is the seat, that damn seat. My crotch is killing me. I want to go back tomorrow but I think my crotch needs a day break to let the, bike seat, callus form. Which I am sure is WAY too much information but I think it is valuable information to have.

Spin

Wine. OH, I love wine so much. So much so, that I had 4 glasses the other night. My best friend and business partner Christopher had this delicious white wine and although I typically dislike white wine, I, personally, find it a little too crisp for my liking; this wine was smooth and light, with just enough quench. I couldn’t just have 1 glass; and, I didn’t.

So yesterday, I kept it real; I enjoyed some homemade stew, had a deliciously healthy salad and went to a spinning class. Yes, me, in a spinning class. I spun my way to hell and hopefully a tighter ass. I thought I was going to get rocked, like “I think I might puke, OMG here it comes”; but, I did really well. Don’t get me wrong, it was hard; halfway through I wanted to shove the instructors microphone up her ass, but I finished. And in all honesty, today my legs feel like I was just in a street fight, my arms are inexplicably sore and my inner thighs feel like I had a really hot night, sans the hot, just the pain; but, all in all, I feel good, considering I haven’t been to a gym in 8 months. Albeit last year, I ran; but, upon further review I don’t think I will run again, the feeling like death thing grew less and less attractive. Other than that, the occurrence of exercise has been rather infrequent. I was going to the gym a lot while I was still in school, for fear of gaining the culinary 30 (the freshman 15 doubles when you eat butter every single day) but then summer happened; and we all know that summer means party. But, I suppose in my life, so does fall and winter.

So after my triumphant return to the active world, I have decided that I am going to go back, today in fact. I really liked it; and, I didn’t leave with a headache or crying. I am confident that after a few months of this, my ass is going to be rock hard and ready to tap!

So ultimately spinning is a winner.

I ran

I recently accepted the fact that I am growing up; and, I figured since I am getting serious about my life, I should get serious about my health. I am well on my way, I've already made changes to my diet; and today I ran. I also ran a few days ago; but, I didn't want to say anything until I was sure that I was going to do it again. Today I did. It was hell. Last week’s run was full of hills, 3 to be exact; and, today's run was long, miles long. I cursed many times, but I finished. I'm told that I should feel a "runners high", which must be a euphemism for sick, because I could barely keep my dinner down. I personally don't push myself that hard, but I have been running with my best friend Chris, who is a man machine; he has recently lost tons of weight and knows what it takes to get results, which why I enlisted his help. To give you an idea of his machine-ness, he runs to my house, we run and then he runs home. I mean, wow. He is the perfect person to kick my ass and he is. Despite wanting to cry and quit halfway through, once I get home, sit and get bearings back, I feel great, accomplished even. So even though I want to cry, puke and quit, I think I'm going to run again. And then probably again after that.