Death By Spin Class

It was midweek in the city pre lockdown, a few days earlier I had had a notion to join the new gym, it was a bargain price per month and I visualized myself doing many of the classes they had on offer. I had spent almost two years lifting weights so I felt I was in a reasonably good shape fitness wise so I signed up for a spin class blissfully ignorant to the horror story that was before me.

So there I was standing on the street looking up at the height of the building feeling somewhat nervous about being in a big gym by myself. A few deep breaths and a reminder that I had my big girl pants on and I skipped up the stairs full of enthusiasm for the class. When I finally gained access through the coded doors on to the gym floor, two thoughts entered my mind,

1. Why was gym equipment so big and scary looking.

2. I felt I had just walked in to Instagram.

The women were so made up with full faces of make up, tanned bodies and perfectly styled hair hanging down their toned backs that I found it hard to believe they were actually working out? I suddenly felt very conscious in my long black rain coat over my mismatched gym clothes. I felt so uncomfortable and nervous that I quickly made my escape to the bathroom where I gathered myself and convinced myself not to leave the gym. I found an empty locker where I stashed my handbag and coat and sat for a moment to prepare myself to walk back out on to the Instagram floor.

I watched as three girls posed for photos in the changing room, brushing their hair and applying some sort of lipstick or lip gloss before heading back out to the gym. It baffled me, I stood and looked at my reflection in the mirror for a moment after the girls had left. I was ghostly pale without even a hint of make up on, my curly hair was wrapped up into a tangled mess on top of my head having not been brushed in a day or two and my gym gear was mismatched and tattered with the odd splash of paint. I looked at myself long and hard in that mirror of the changing room and decided I wouldn't let it bother me and that I was there for the purpose of getting sweaty so I splashed my face with water and went to find out where the spin class was being held.

The instructor was a lovely energetic young lad and he reassured me to go at a pace which I was comfortable with but with that pace being a very slow leisurely cycle I decided to try and push myself, what's the worst that could happen right?

It was the longest 30 minutes of my life.

Everything hurt, I felt my shoulders were going to buckle as they struggled to hold the weight of my upper body on the handle bars. I had to put all of my focus into keeping upright trying not to smash my face on to the handle bars. Then I had to cycle while stood up on the pedals, how/why anyone would want to endure that for enjoyment is beyond me, my legs trembled in what I can only imagine looked like I was being electrocuted by the bike. It wasn't graceful, my body jerked and shook so hard while I bopped up and down with pain and fear spread across my face as I tried not to break my face off the handlebars. It was a blessing I was strapped onto the bike because I would have melted down onto the floor as every muscle in my body eventually turned to mush.

After the class ended I slowly and shakily climbed down from the bike to do some guided stretches with the instructor.  Everything appeared white with a loud sharp ringing in my ears, I could hear the instructor's muffled voice but didn't know whether he was talking to me or the other girl and already feeling self conscious in the Insta-worthy gym I didn't want to faint in the middle of the floor,  instead I wobbled and staggered blindly to the changing room where I sat with my purple face held against the cool locker door until my vision returned. Once I had established I was no longer blind, I lay on the bench in the changing room for a further 20 minutes suddenly not caring what I looked like as I feared I was near death. When I finally gathered myself together to leave it seemed like a cruel joke that I would have to go down two flights of stairs to get out.

It took me six minutes to get out. Six minutes of trembling legs taking one step at a time, gripping onto the railing for fear that my body would crumble and I'd fall down the stairs. Six minutes until I made it onto the street where the cool air suddenly made my stomach turn and I became overwhelmed with the feeling of nausea. I then spent the next fifteen to twenty minutes sat on the bus journey home hunched over with my head in my handbag ready to hurl at any moment.

Horrific. Needless to say I never went back for a second spin class.