I grew up with the word "spinning" in my vocabulary. My mom started doing it when I was young, and while I am not very good at it, I also learned the craft during my growing up years.
However, much clarification is needed when I say something like that nowadays. Because the spinning I am referring to is this kind:
Today, for the first time, I went to a class at the YMCA of the other kind of spinning. The kind that involves going nowhere very, very fast.
I found a bike, and by watching the people around me I figured out how to put the handle bars on and adjust the seat. Then I noticed everyone changeing their shoes and realized that I had to move to a bike with shoe baskets on it - so I did, and set up all over again. The instructor was nice, and announced amid groans of dismay that this would be her last class and that the Y was looking for another 6 a.m instructor. Bummer!
The lights went out, the music went up, and off we went!
Five minutes into the class I knew I was in trouble.
No matter that last week I ran the better part of 13.1 miles. No matter that I have birthed 3 children without an epidural.
I knew I wouldn't even be able to stay on the bike for the next 50 minutes, much less pedal as fast as they were going or STAND UP as long as they were standing. The two ladies in front of me were superhuman. The middle aged men were making me look like a wet noodle.
Part way through the class, the instructor said, "You ladies who are new, and still getting used to the bike - if you're backs are starting to hurt... SUCK IT UP!" A few minutes later, I leaned back to look at Hannah two bikes over. I did the finger-guns-to-my-head. I tried to suck it up, but mostly, I sucked.
It is now 1:30 in the afternoon. My guts have felt like jelly all day, and I cannot sit comfortably on any surface. (How are we supposed to get used to those seats? Callouses?! Down THERE?!) The only points to my favor are these:
1. I did not cry
2. I did not throw up
I wanted to do both.