I couldnt decide whether to title this post what it is titled or “my first spin class”, but I decided that “my first spin class” did not regale the horror of the experience. Man, my crotch has not seen that much action since I was 14 and accidentally jumped *on to* my hockey stick in training.
Spinning is about as comfortable as riding your brother's bike over the Giants causeway
I’ve never done a class at the gym. I’ve always scoffed at them thinking that they’re for dowdy housewives and people who lack motivation to train by themselves. You know the ones I mean… Legs, Bums and Tums, RPM, PUMP! Though I always thought boxercise sounded fun but then I realised you didnt actually get to punch people… shame.
Though lately, as I look closer, the women in the classes looked more around my age… could that be because I am dangerously close to my mid-twenties (if not officially in them?). All the women in the classes looked pretty toned but still I wouldnt go to a class by myself, not to start off with. Everyone always looks as if they’ve been doing it for years and never seems to faff about. I am a great faffer, especially when I have no idea what I’m doing.
So one day, whilst ambling to the gym, I bump into one of my bestest friends, Churchie (so called because she has eyes like Charlotte Church and she is from South Wales).
Well, long pointless story short, I got excited because it meant I could try classes now without the fear of looking like a loner/incompetent baboon.
We decided on spin. Because there is a big mystery surrounding spin. All these people go into a tiny room and you hear loud club music and see UV lights. Then they come out, soaked through and smirking at other, lesser gym goers like they are part of a secret and exclusive club.
We arrived pretty much on time for the start. We lingered outside the door because it looked full, all the bikes were sat on from where we could see by intimidating seasoned spinners. Being complete babies we started nervously giggling and wondered whether we should go in. We had previously signed up, so we knew there ought to be spaces. A woman behind us, in a kiwi accent said, “well I’m coming too…” so we all went in, couldnt let a kiwi upstage us!
It just got worse.
Not only was everyone staring at us, we saw two bikes near the back and to get to them, we had to walk passed others who were already seated on their bikes. These bikes are strategically and impossibly close together. So close that if people are sitting on them, you cant get through. I think it’s a tactic to keep anyone above a UK size 6 out of the class. I literally had to SQUISH passed two men on their bikes, holding in my boobs and sucking in my arse. Then, somewhat flustered, we tried to get on the two bikes. In our haste to stop everyone staring and to look experienced, we did not realise that they were far too high to climb on to and we tried for a good 20 seconds, whilst people watched in amusement.
Then we tried to bring the bikes down to our size but we couldnt get the toggle to work. Two seasoned spinners from behind helped us. We then sat on them, relieved our humiliation was over. Two butch men turned around and said in aussie accents, “Are those your waterbottles?” and we looked down and saw a bottle in each of the bike’s holding areas. “No” I said dumbly. They promptly told us two other girls had already reserved those bikes, looking even more amused at our horrified “spin humiliation” faces.
We got off hastily and looked around like panicked sheep.
The smirking aussies said, “there’s two at the front”…
The problem with the ones at the front were that they were the only two bikes that FACED ALL THE OTHER BIKES. Like a little platform for two people to “spin” on, so everyone could watch us fail miserably as our shoes flew off or our boobs bounced ridiculously. Luckily for me and unluckily for Churchie, a girl behind us said “there’s one here”. I grabbed it. Ha ha, as I sat down, I told them Churchie would probably kill me after. They said, “oh dont worry, she’ll probably be too tired”. I waved to her, as she sat up front in the prime embarrassment position. Lucky for her, another newbie sat next to her and this newbie was somewhat fatter and uglier, therefore likely to create more of an amusing and watchable spectacle than Churchie.
The seasoned spinner on my left was a very lean woman in her thirties. She helped me adjust my seat and all that shit. I had no idea what I was doing. I started to fiddle with the dial aimlessly (which was changing the gear levels), whilst the two spinners on my right were making friendly chit chat with me. I told them I had never done a class before in my life. The women on my left made a bit of a concerned face, “oh it’s a pretty hardcore one to start off with.” I got a bit irked at this. Surely it couldnt be that hard, I mean I do go to the gym a lot and work at high intensity levels and I did play sport for my country for about 10 years. I could feel the competitive spirit in me rear it’s narked head.
Just as we were about to start, the instructor asked if anyone was new. No one put their hand up, Churchie must have been just as nervous. I shot my hand up, everyone turned when the instructor acknowledged me and said that he hoped the other spinners had set me up alright.
Just at that point, the woman on my left, started to tighten the straps on my left foot, saying that if they werent tight, my feet would very likely come out and I’d lose a shoe. I started to feel really nervous now. Just what the hell was this class? Were the lights going to dim and would we then find ourselves in a spaceship experiencing zero level gravity? I tried to tighten my other shoe fastening but I couldnt do it. I pretended to be doing it instead ( ha ha, typical me).
Then we started!
He asked us to pedal as fast as we could, keeping to the loud beat of the music and that is fucking fast. I realised what they meant about your feet coming out. We were supposed to be on the lowest resistance and I had no idea what that was as I’d fucked about with my dial. My shoes very nearly came off.
The whole 45 minutes was spent in various positions, standing up off the bike, crouching, riding it hard and fast. The major problem was this… if you are a woman, remember what it was like to ride your brother’s bike when you were little? Imagine that over and over again, EXCEPT OVER THE GIANT’S FUCKING CAUSEWAY.
My crotch got the pummeling of it’s life and not in a good way.
Though as the adrenaline had gotten to me mixed with the embarrassment of quitting, I pressed on.
I finished with my shirt and shorts sticking to me. I was drenched in sweat. I hadnt found it impossible, pfft that woman on the left, what did she know! ( alot actually, without her I would have fallen off and probably died, crushed under pedals, drowned in a sea of communal sweat).
As I got off the bike, I realised that my shorts had definitely “chaffed” my inner thighs… as well as the hard ass seat banging my crotch again and again and again. I realised that when the woman to my left had guestimated where my hip was, to see how high to make the seat, she had been… mistaken.
I hobbled out of the room, I was the last to leave, pushing bikes out the way with my boobs to make way. I said thanks to the instructor. Some 6 footer who was chatting to his 6 footer trainer-friend who was sitting on one of the bikes. They both smiled… that annoying smile which conveys “ha ha, first time spinning idiot with her crotch-pain”.
Churchie and I laughed for a good ten minutes, hysterical almost, about the whole ordeal. She too had major crotch pain, though not as bad as mine. Today I actually have bruising! We enjoyed it however, I enjoy things like that immensely. The competition, the blasting music, the intensity. Next time, we are going early, we are getting bikes in the middle, we are sitting next to each other and we are definitely getting the instructor to take us through our bike set-up. I’m not sure when next time will be though, I was contemplating icing my groin today. I had a funny mental image of sitting on a bag of ice and everyone thinking I had extreme piles.
