Spin or Space Mountain? A Wheelie Tired Newbie's Crazy First Class
Drumming my fingers on the arm of our leather sofa, I looked out the window at the grayness, then shared a dejected sigh with my roommate. A typical Monday November night (even though it was only 4:30) in Spokane. Padding aimlessly into my room, I glanced down at my seldom-used tennis shoes peeking out from under my bed. Suddenly, I remembered the weak promise I had made myself at the beginning of the semester to go to more dance and fitness classes. A slightly terrifying idea popped into my mind, and I scuttled back out to the living room to ask my roommate what she thought of it. Her eyes lit up with a curious fire. After slicing through the fog to get to the car and braving a cold ride during which we blared music to drown out our fear, we arrived at our first-ever spin class.
I felt as though I was at a bowling alley when the bouncy front desk girl with a great smile got me all set up with a special shoe. Not knowing why they were necessary, I merely complimented her on her perfectly straightened, perky blonde ponytail and followed her into the narrow hallway. My roommate and I peered into a pristine yoga studio with gleaming wood floors and infrared heating as we passed, then we arrived at our destination at the end of the hall. I tiptoed nervously into the classroom to find several beautiful, athletic women decked out in various luxury athleisure brands. Instinctively, I put a hand over the WinCo logo on my shirt and looked down at my fuzzy Costco leggings. Retiring our Target tennys and outerwear to the cubbies, my roommate and I giggled at our own unpreparedness for this entire impromptu experience before putting on serious expressions and confronting the bike. It was difficult to hear our instructor’s brief orientation over the beat-pumping music blaring from the speakers on the ceiling, and even harder to see in the dark room lit with blacklights. My jaw dropped in realization as my instructor bent and clipped my shoe onto the pedal. She looked at me expectantly, nodding toward my other free foot. Luckily, no one could see my cheeks redden as I attempted to clip my own foot in, muddling in the lack of light.
Spin shoes, very similar to cleats
Because my roommate and I needed extra help getting prepped, class started a few minutes late (oops). I assumed that perhaps the lights would be turned back on and the music would turn down low enough to hear the instructor over the din. I could not be more incorrect. Instead, the room went almost entirely dark except for a single spotlight illuminating the instructor on her raised platform. The music, a hodgepodge of explicit rap tracks interspersed with Ariana Grande songs, grew even louder. All I heard was a muffled comment on shaking off the Mondays from the instructor before the beat drop and the press of a button introduced a laser light show into the already crazy mix. My roommate and I shared an incredulous look before standing up on the bike and increasing our pace to match the beat, grinning nonstop.
About ten minutes in, that smile faded. I felt like I was on Space Mountain: dazzled in the darkness by lights and music, exhilarated while also slightly claustrophobic and nauseous from all the movement and stimuli surrounding me. And who knew one needed rhythm to ride a bike? At least my struggles were concealed by darkness and my spot in the back row. That did not seem to keep the instructor from noticing my loss of focus. She gestured for me to look at her, which did have a nice grounding effect. In the days following, I would continue to notice myself gazing off into the distance during my workouts, and would remind myself to zero in my focus to increase the effectiveness of the exercises. Watching the instructor, I also realized how beautiful spin is. Who knew one could dance on a bike? I admired her coordination and endurance as she completed complex arm movements on top while keeping steady time pedaling her legs below. I still continue to ponder the fact that biking could indeed be considered art when incorporating dance into the exercise. I think of cycling as dancing whenever I find myself huffing and puffing halfway through my ride down Spokane’s Centennial Trail, and this reminds me to relax and be more graceful amidst the struggle as I would in ballet class.
The view from one of my recent bike rides down Centennial Trial in Spokane, WA
However, the women in the class really gave it all they got, some practically hanging on the bike as they pedaled vigorously yet more and more laboriously. While their display of sheer exhaustion was mildly concerning, it was also inspiring, especially since these ladies were older yet considerably more fit than me. Trying to center myself amidst the lasers and heat and music and nausea, I could see how the class could be so addicting. With the beat and the sweat, the workout differed little from going to the club and dancing all the stress out. The ongoing rhythm and enthusiastic group environment pushed my legs forward, however cultish it was. And the darkness allowed me to completely surrender any insecurities and leave it all on the bike. Although this spin class was bad for my sensory anxiety, it was great for my bodily anxiety.
The instructor played one last anthem, saying, “this one’s for you. I don’t know about y’all, but I might cry. Mondays, amirite? Pedal it out, let’s go.” I breathed a heavy sigh of relief as my stomach couldn’t take many more bouncy pushups on the bike. My claustrophobic self was relieved when we were allowed to unclip our feet. I started to dismount the bike, but the instructor began to lead stretches, another thing I did not know could be done on a bike. On our way out, my roommate and I snapped the obligatory gym selfie to make sure everyone knew we were trendy AND fit. The cold outside air shocked our warm muscles, but my knees were surprisingly unaffected by all the activity they’d just endured. Suddenly empowered, we hopped in the car and blared the very music that had shocked our ears moments before. Still nauseous but smiling, I reflected on my experience. I kinda hated it, but I kinda want to do it again...Kaylee Bosse, Spokane’s newest potential spin devotee?
Edit: The next day, I was surprised at how little my legs appeared to be affected by the unfamiliar activity they did the previous night. However, after being forced to hold chair pose and all three warriors for ridiculous amounts of time in power yoga the next day, my runner’s high disappeared and I have concluded that spin will merely be an occasional occurrence.
