In households all over Centre Wellington, the Winter 2012 community guide is about to become a much sought after booklet.
It contains registration information for a host of team Sports, art workshops, fitness classes and events for everyone.
Because my co-workers are cruel, they thought it would be entertaining to treat me to a spin class on my first week on the job, so I could write about the health benefits of exercise from a personal perspective. Because I was curious, I decided to go.
The spin class was called the Long Ride. Regrettably, I found that out afterward.
The spinning instructor was Wendy Armstrong. When I contacted her, my questions were simple: what time is the least busy class and do you have a defibrillator on site, because I may need it?
Reassuring me she knew CPR and could have the paddles ready on demand, Armstrong suggested a 6:30am class. Ugh.
Entering the gym at the Sportsplex for the first time, I was impressed. It was bright, clean and the equipment was in great shape.
Two things caused me immediate alarm. First, the pedals had straps. Was I going to be trapped? I had planned to fake a cramp and now I wasn’t sure I could get free and bolt if the class was too hard.
That wasn’t the worst of it. The bike had a tension knob with the words “Push Stop” on it. I had visions of me accidentally pushing that and launching myself over the handle bars of my stationary bike, skidding face-first across the wooden floor. I decided that was my sign to flee.
It was at that moment the music started for class and I had to face the mirrored wall and the image of me, at 6:15am, on an exercise bike. Scary.
Armstrong was a tiny, fit woman who exuded enthusiasm. She led the class with a great balance of being motivating and encouraging without making me cry.
But when she said, “I expect there to be a puddle of sweat on the floor when you leave,” you knew she was not kidding.
Off we went, imaginary biking until my legs were like jelly and the only thing spinning was my head.
When Armstrong announced we were going to increase our tension knob and go up an imaginary hill, I was determined to keep up.
I gave it a good try, until I looked in the mirror and realized I had that facial expression previously reserved for childbirth.
The sweat puddle was growing and my layers of clothing were shedding.
I confess, I could not keep up with the class. I stayed within my limits, like Armstrong suggested, yet I never quit.
Spin class was fun (no, really) and the desire to push myself kept me peddling. As strange as it sounds, it was addictive.
This was far more fun than riding a stationary exercise bike and for me, much safer than riding a bike on pavement.
Spin class came to an end after 45 minutes and I gingerly stepped off my bike. I was exhausted. Surprisingly, I heard myself say, “next time I am bringing padding for my seat.”
Yes, next time. I would definitely do it again. The rest of my day I had energy and I felt positive. For the whole class, I forgot my worries and focused on nothing more than pushing myself up that imaginary hill. Nothing else mattered. That alone was refreshing.
Like many of you, when I go to the Sportsplex I am usually lugging the heavy hockey bag of a young child and thus, I am not looking around at all the opportunities there, like the full gym room with a complete workout area. That has changed.
Maybe it’s time I spin out of control once a week, for the sake of my health.
Maybe I’ll bring a few coworkers with me.
