At a friend's birthday dinner on Saturday (at the very delicious FoFo), I admitted sheepishly that I only do yoga and never really engage in any other type of exercise. One of my new friends suggested I go with her to a spinning class. She seemed awfully fit. And so like all good decisions made after a few glasses of sangria, I committed.
I woke up at the ungodly hour of 6:15 this morning (but, to be fair, didn't pull myself out of bed until 6:35) to attend this said class. I had gone spinning in New York a long time ago with my good friend Jenny when she cajoled me into trying it. Like... three years ago long ago, no exaggeration -- so it's been a while.
I must have looked like a newbie with my small towel and small water bottle and my glasses because the instructor paused at my bike and said "You've been on one of these before yeh?" I faked a nonchalance I did not feel and said, "Yup." I also think he knows every face in the class because only certain...personalities drag themselves out of bed to cycle for an hour before 8 am.
Well. This class was an hour, which I thought was 15 minutes longer than the class had a right to be. I had forgotten how PAINFUL the saddle is. All around me women were whizzing away expertly on these bikes and all I could think was, how are they doing this? This hurts. I was so relieved to be out of the saddle (when you stand up).
The instructor was great though. His New Zealand accent was scrummy (a nice perk to Hong Kong that I haven't yet mentioned before. I love all these accents). And I guess hearing really good pump up music at 7 amputs you in a good mood wakes you up no matter what.
It wasn't until about 10 minutes before class ended (I was focusing on that timer a lot) that I felt the surge, the drop-kick-doozy hit of elation and giddiness that my body had spent the last 50 minutes creating. Yessss. That's right. This is why people spin.
On my way out of the gym, though, I think I had an epic crash. My body hasn't gotten this kind of heady infusion of endorphin goodness in a long, long time.
I woke up at the ungodly hour of 6:15 this morning (but, to be fair, didn't pull myself out of bed until 6:35) to attend this said class. I had gone spinning in New York a long time ago with my good friend Jenny when she cajoled me into trying it. Like... three years ago long ago, no exaggeration -- so it's been a while.
I must have looked like a newbie with my small towel and small water bottle and my glasses because the instructor paused at my bike and said "You've been on one of these before yeh?" I faked a nonchalance I did not feel and said, "Yup." I also think he knows every face in the class because only certain...personalities drag themselves out of bed to cycle for an hour before 8 am.
Well. This class was an hour, which I thought was 15 minutes longer than the class had a right to be. I had forgotten how PAINFUL the saddle is. All around me women were whizzing away expertly on these bikes and all I could think was, how are they doing this? This hurts. I was so relieved to be out of the saddle (when you stand up).
The instructor was great though. His New Zealand accent was scrummy (a nice perk to Hong Kong that I haven't yet mentioned before. I love all these accents). And I guess hearing really good pump up music at 7 am
It wasn't until about 10 minutes before class ended (I was focusing on that timer a lot) that I felt the surge, the drop-kick-doozy hit of elation and giddiness that my body had spent the last 50 minutes creating. Yessss. That's right. This is why people spin.
On my way out of the gym, though, I think I had an epic crash. My body hasn't gotten this kind of heady infusion of endorphin goodness in a long, long time.
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