You Spin Me Right Round

Just wait, I have so many more unfunny and unclever "spin" titles to attack the blogosphere with.

So, have I mentioned I love spin class? I absolutely love it. Who knew you could get the equivalent of a runner's high from cycling? That is, after you get over how hard it is, how freakishly much you sweat, having to stare at someone's (usually an old man) ass for an hour, and having to wear shorts with padding in the crotch.

As a semi-related side note that you don't want to know about: Sometimes when I'm cycling, I'll glimpse down without thinking and wonder, "why is my crotch puffy? Is there a man sitting on my lap?" Then I remember, "nope, I'm just wearing padded shorts." Oh yeah... I'm cool.

The best thing about cycling is that while it's hard, anyone can do it (unless maybe you have no legs). Beginners can adjust the gears on their bike to any level of resistance. No one can tell what gear their neighbor is in. So, on a rough day, while the rest of the class is doing an uphill climb on gear 20, I can be sailing along on gear 13 so long as I make sufficient grimacing faces to assure the instructor that I am working as hard as everyone else. And when I feel like I'm dying and the instructor yells "ADD A GEAR!" I can easily waive my hand over the gear level to make it LOOK like I'm adding a gear.

I'm so clever. I know all the tricks.

Because you can never judge, simply by sight, how well anyone else is doing, there is only one way to indicate your elite status as a spinner. Elite status is achieved when you work so hard that sweat continuously drips off your face and forms a nice puddle on the floor. Yes, your performance is judged by your sweat. I love being in an environment where it is totally acceptable to sweat. It makes my life so much better.

Oh and did I mention that in one hour of spinning, I can burn 600 calories?! It's totally amazing! That's like 1.75 donuts, 4 small scoops of vanilla ice cream, 7 oreo cookies, 600 carrots, or one Butterfinger Blizzard.