Yesterday, my friend Rachel and I took an hour-long spinning class. I was a bet intimidated because the class description said, “Intermediate to advanced level,” and the only category where I fit in as intermediate to advanced is my stage of diabetes. (And FYI: I always cringe when people pronounce it “dia-bee-tess” instead of “dia-bee-tees.” Yeah, I’m looking at YOU, Wilford Brimley!)
The class was intense. It wasn’t filled with the “I’m just going for fun!” crowd. These people were serious cyclists who chatted about what they were training for or how awesome their pecs looked in stretchy Italia shirts. I bet they meet on the weekends and bounce quarters off their ab ripples and then growl, “Go ahead and punch me in the stomach! It doesn’t hurt!” Then after that, they make cootie catchers and discuss how Mary Anne of The Babysitters Club never deserved Logan.
The bike seats were extremely painful. I would have had more comfort sitting on an upright broom or the business end of a hammer. Maybe that’s why cyclists are so pissed on when I’m walking on their trails since they scream at me, “ON YOUR LEFT! NO, YOUR OTHER LEFT!”
So while I’m sitting on softer surfaces, let me ask, how was your weekend?