I'm about to give you too much information.
Like, in a few minutes I will acknowledge the existence of my vagina, and if that in any way disturbs or disgusts you, I suggest both a) growing up and 2) not reading any further.
Still reading? Ok, fine. It's your choice. You've been properly warned, and I will make no further apologies.
Some of you may be aware of my recent obsession with spinning. Others may not. So be it, now you know. I spin, Ok? I spin and I don't care who knows it!
"Spinning, Lisa. Really?" you say inquisitively to me through the computer-screen-wormhole (I can't hear you! Speak up!). "Like, moving around the room in circles until your face throbs and you want to throw up?" No silly! Not that kind of spinning. I only do that when I've been drinking. "Oh, so you must mean those skeletal bikes that have a vague resemblance to medieval torture/death tools? The ones that sit positioned like a swarm of killer bees in the dimly lit room next to the weight-machine-sausage-fest?"
Yes. That room. Those bikes. Those sausages.
Haha. Sausage fest. God, it's so true...
So since this blog is really just a self-serving way for me to tell everyone who reads it about all the awesome things I think and do on a daily basis, I'm going to describe for you, in as much relevant detail as possible, what it is like to become, and ultimately have the physical experience of a Spinner.Because in the absence of a promiscuous sex-life (which very good exercise - just ask this kid!), this is how I burn the extra calories.
For people who have never tried spinning, I'll be the first to agree it is initially quite intimidating. Everyone in class seems to already know what they're doing. You walk cautiously into the room, certain that everyone in it has been there before. They come wearing their pretentious spinning shoes, with smug, self-loving looks on their faces. So proud of their fancy footwear, they are! And so quick to judge you for wearing sneakers...
Then slowly, as if the eyes of the world were watching, you mount the saddle for the first time. Self-consciously you check yourself in the mirror. Is it really that obvious? Can they tell? Is everyone actually staring at your non-exercise-specific-shoes? You can sense their judging eyes on you and you get even more awkward, feeling as though you're the only one who has ever turned pedals for the first time. The only one feeling the strangely erotic discomfort of the seat pressed firmly against your pubic bone...
Sure it's scary at first, because riding something new is always gonna shake you up a little bit the first time you ride it. And at the first few attempts I'll be honest, it kinda hurts, but once you get the hang of it, it comes pretty naturally.
And then, kids, it gets really good.
The awkward tingling sensation in your nethers eventually goes away,* and before you know it, you're UP! You're DOWN! Up. Down. Up. Down. UP! UP! UP! With expert speed and timing, you pump your legs to the beat of the music! Suddenly the song changes and your instructor's iPod shuffle skips to Cake's "Going the Distance." Yes! I LOVE this song! You think to yourself. Pump. Pump. Pump. The bass pulsates throughout room, invigorating your core, and it's all you can do to stay focused and stare intently at whoever's ass is 5 feet in front of you, bouncing sloppily over the saddle...
Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down.
Bodies sweating. Heavy breathing. Equipment creaking.
Up. Down. Up. Down.
And this goes on for about 50 more minutes.
Of course, by the end of class you're pretty much out of breath. Your muscles are damn near exhausted, and there's a disgusting, messy puddle of sweat dripping from your face down the front of your shirt onto a spot on the floor directly beneath your handlebars. It's horrifying to look down, to catch a glimpse of your haggard reflection in said puddle and realize that your body has lost that much fluid (not to mention whatever you juiced onto the seat - sorry, it's a fact). But it's only horrifying in the same way popping a huge zit might be - sure you're totally grossed out, and maybe a little shocked, but damn it feels good to watch that sucker blow.
And then you stretch.
And then you leave.
And then you get afuckingddicted.
When I tell people about spinning, they usually don't believe me when I state emphatically that it's the best thing ever. Low impact! Won't hurt your joints! I say. A killer workout! I say. You'll never go back to the treadmill again! And I repeat this, over and over and over again, only to hear the naysaying protests of non-believers. Who knows, you may get really good and on top of a great workout, you might actually achieve multiple orgasms.
Oh! Ye of little faith!
I mean, sure I'd rather be burning my excess booze calories in "other ways," but in my situation that's not exactly feasible.** So don't badger me if I'm willing to take the next-best hard thing I can get away with having between my thighs.
You'd best be believin' ...it's a bike.
*Gentlemen, I can only assume you'd get this sensation as well, albeit in the absence of a vagina I think it'd be more in your grundle-region. Enjoy!