"We're on the road to nowhere..."
- The Talking Heads

December 2001

First off, I have to apologise for not ranting for a while. God somehow decided over the last month that I would not be his personal cat toy for a small amount of time and left me alone to be stupid all by myself.

I had mentioned before that I hate working out and that I was doing the Bill Phillips: Body for Life program for a while. Well, I was really going into his diet plan with the Myoplex shakes and the other stuff you are supposed to do and I started to gain some weight.

Well, that just meant to me that I was not working out hard enough and I was taking my Sunday "day off" a little less seriously, than I should have. Also, the thing was that I was starting to get into a routine that was not working any more.

So, after a small bout with the flu and an inner ear infection (which made the world just ever so charming), I started to get really serious (or as serious as I can get), I started doing spin classes.

For those of you who are alive and well and enjoying life, let me explain what a spin class is. In the 70's and 80's they were called life cycles, for people who actually use a bicycle for transportation, it is called bike riding. For idiots like me who don't own a bike and have a desire to be pushed to a new level of exhaustion, it is called a spin class. The machine is simple enough, it requires no electrictiy (as a matter of fact, all you would need is a mini turbine and you could most likely generate your own), it looks like a one wheel bicycle on a stand complete with brackets for your feet on the pedals. There is a resistance control to simulate uphill riding, a holder for water, and handlebars for grinding. So, basically, it is a class where about 30 people come to ride a bike to nowhere but spend a lot of time and energy getting there.

For my first class, I had a very nice 38 year-old woman (whose other job is working in a post office) lead the class. She was a tad on edge because she had some "flu-like" symptoms and working in a post office during the Antrax scare is not something to put you into a jolly mood. She was also a little perturbed that she had gotten disqualified from her last IRONMAN TRIATHALON at Belmar. She saw that I was a "first timer" and adjusted the bike so that I could work it properly. She also explained the first, second, and third positions that you should take and that she would tell me what to do during the class. She mentioned that since this was my first time, that I should spend most of the class in first position.... no problem. The class was an hour.

And it was a good workout. I felt that I had burned some calories and despite both of my calves seizing up in the middle of the class, I had a good time.

I figured that this was it. This was going to be the road to health and weight loss and I should be doing this three times a week. I made reservations to Tuesday night's class (the following week) and committed myself to this new lifestyle.

The next day afterward, I was feeling the soreness accompanied with an intense workout (which is a good sign for me) plus the inablily of walking more than twenty feet at a shot without screaming. But that's okay because I was going to be fit and I figured that I could workout through the soreness. That's usually the same philosophy that most gym coaches in high school have to solve any problem be it a sore ankle or domestic family problems: Just walk it off.

Tuesday night arrived. This time, I was prepared (or so I thought). I had my water, I limbered up, I had a good amount of rest, my muscle soreness was pretty much gone and I recognised what to feel to not have my calves seize up again. I was feeling good. I was feeling so good that I felt that I should have a big red "S" on my chest and should be fighting crime somewhere. I was "mighty". Spin class, shwin class... it's no problem for me.

In walked what I perceived as a former gunnery seargent. He was a good 3 inches shorter than I was. He looked like Louis Gossett, Jr. from An Officer and a Gentleman. He saw that I was a newcomer and had no comment. He then explained to the class, that he had three rules. 1) There is no talking during the session. 2) There is no legitimate reason for pedals to stop during class. 3) There would be no sitting on the bike until he said so. Well, that was what I was there for anyway, and a little discipline couldn't hurt. Besides, I was going to fight crime later anyway. He began the class by saying "OKAY CHILDREN! LET'S GO!!!!!"

The class began with what I perceived was a quick break away and unlike the first instructor he was not on the bike at all times. HE WAS WATCHING YOU. When he got to me he corrected my form and told me that my legs should be in tighter. It made a difference. He also cranked my resistance a lot more than I had on the first class. I was working my muscles a lot more than I had the first time... and I was in trouble. (Fight crime? I was going to be a potential victim.) Now, I knew the feeling of working out past the point of exhaustion. I was sweating buckets on that bike. I was dizzy, I was pumping, and I HATED THIS MAN! This was a man on a mission, he saw I was Superman and he had a pocket full of kryptonite. I think my one real accomplishment in that class is that I didn't puke. I found out also that there was one exception to his rules, you could sit down if you had knee pain. (Coming from a childhood of soccer and karate injuries, I realized that, in practice, this is a good policy. Knees hurt... game over.) We went the full hour and stretched out afterward.

I hated this. I must have been out of my mind.

As I started to crawl out of the room, he stopped me and gave me a thumbs up. He had said that he isn't looking for decathalon winners but 100% of what each individual can give him. And I thought about that and it made a lot of sense. I wanted a level 10 and I got one.

I'll was back there the next Tuesday as well and I make sure that I don't miss his class. I wanted to be pushed and he pushed me. I wanted and challenge and he gave it to me.

God! I hate working out.