We are completely humbled by spin class.
Another Lesson in Self-Expectations
[this is a photo of what spin class is not]
I arrived at the gym early (still on an exercise high from the previous morning when I powered through yoga class) ready for what was sure to be a fun, sweaty workout that I would dominate in the same way I dominated my sun salutes the day before. (After all, I had spent many afternoons tooling around Balboa Park on my Raleigh and many evenings speed peddling down the boardwalk post-Guava Beach Wednesdays).
However, as those of you who have survived a Spin Class surely know (and here is where I applaud you), I could not have been more misguided about my cycling fantasies. While I was picturing a fun, semi-intense bike ride set to the tune of Tonight by Enrique, I ended up riding an unstoppable spinning machine, sweating like a pig and trying very hard not throw up. We were not even half way done with the “warm up” before I seriously considered pushing the red stop button and hurling myself out of the studio.
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In case we have never met, or in case we have met but never A. played a card game, B. played a board game, C. gotten into a debate, I will let you into a little secret: I am extremely competitive. I will gracefully feign ambivalence if I am losing at a board game and deny my secret cutthroat nature to my death, but honestly, at my core, I am really, really competitive.Before you go listing this as a reason never to go head to head with me in a game of gin or Cranium, let me tell you that this is much harder for me than it is for you. Granted, I am a force to be reckoned with when playing gin, Scattergories and Apples to Apples (... scrabble and Nertz, not so much [I have also been banned from playing Nertz because every time I play I use an embarrassing amount of profanity]) but really, for me at least, competition is less centrifugal and much more centripetal. In other words, it’s less about you and more about me. I am so competitive with myself that it’s exhausting. Read here: If I can’t do xx of crunches (xx = # of crunches I did the day before +2) then clearly, I am a weakling. If I can’t do crunches what can I do? Nothing.
This means that I have an all consuming streak of performance anxiety that has lead me to fear the gym and cower in front of my running shoes. I cope with this by inflating my ego (see paragraph 2) and/or avoiding all things I might be bad at. (What a disgusting existence, I know).
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We were not even one song in before I felt my competitive alter ego percolating inside me, rearing and ready to berate me for not riding as fast as the other class members. It was not long before I realized that if I was going to make it through the class without A. seeing last nights dinner in reverse, B. passing out and flying over my handle bars or C. stoping my bike and walking awkwardly out in the middle of “PUSH PUSH PUSH HERE’S A HILL”I was going to have to seriously lower my self-expectations.
First I lowered them to
“It’s okay if you can’t stand up to position three! This is your first spin class!”
This bar was quickly lowered to
“If you can’t increase your resistance, it’s okay! This is only your first spin class!”
and then to
“Just pedal along as best as you can!”
... and finally
“If you don’t walk out of here vomit down your front and tears down your face... you’re a winner.”
45 minutes, two sweaty shirts and a few angry swear words angled at my instructor (who used to be in the military) later, I disembarked from my bike, a winner. Yes I might have just strolled through the whole second half of the class, but I DID NOT GET OFF THE BIKE!! I DID NOT THROW UP!! I DID NOT START CRYING!! And all of these were victories in my new book of Lower Expectations.
It felt good to lower my own bar. It felt really, really good.
disclaimer: This could just be the post-bike endorphins talking
But regardless, here’s to being humbled by something as silly as Spin Class.
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