I’ve been slacking this week as far as updates go. I should be dragged out back and beaten with a reed. The reason is valid enough, however, as I’ve been very focused and rooted in getting Cycling Fusion up and running. We launched more of the site yesterday, and things are continuing to progress. There is still a very long road ahead in getting everything together, but at least now we’re seeing the route more clearly. A few great people have already been commenting and expressing their interest in helping with our mission, and that is splendiffertastic.

So back on track – two classes have come and gone so far this week. The first one was monday morning, and as far as my personal workout and progress go, there wasn’t really anything of note to mention. I performed and felt about the same as my first class. We rode to the bellowing sounds of musicals (each day has a theme around here), so that was enjoyable – even though in a 30-minute class there were two songs from Grease.

I’m a great lover of musicals, but let it be noted: I hate Grease.

Today’s class was the rip roaring sounds of Barry Manilow. How is that cycling music, you may ask? So may I. But it did the trick, as I amped up the effort a bit and still managed to keep my heart rate around the target range from the first two easier classes. A few drops of perspiration even formed on my neck for a second. I still haven’t gotten used to the tight diaper shorts, but hey… one bridge at a time.

In movies, especially in dramatic period pieces with intense love affairs and engaging stories, there is often a moment of deep impact that is emotionally expanded by art. The story’s climactic occurrence amplified visually by a reduction in frame rate. The heartbroken maiden clamoring over the body of her fallen soldier, silently screaming, dubbed over by a sad and lonely wind instrument or a somber piano. The old woman with her head bowed to the autumn grass, walking away as her life’s companion is lowered into the earth. A confusion of the senses, a muddy blend of conflicting feelings, unknowing whether the dominant emotion is fear, sadness, relief, or even love. This is how I viewed this morning – a moment of deep impact, emotionally expanded. Feeling awkward in brand new nylon-spandex thigh huggers, sitting bent over in a semi-broken office chair, I was mentally preparing for the arrival of my first 30-minute group Spin class. I felt just as trapped in a dramatic Hollywood apogee, and while I might not have lost the war, lost my love, or lost my mind – I waited, not knowing what the final descending chapters of today’s story would have in store for my fragile character.

Fine. I’m lying. That’s how I thought it would be. But in reality, and somewhat unfortunately (as it totally destroys the metaphor I was crafting), it wasn’t that bad at all.

I was going about my work here in the vault (Global Ride is in a former bank, I work in the vault) when Gene came in to tell me “it’s time.” I hoofed it to the men’s room and forced my legs through the very tight and forthright garment that is a pair of cycling shorts. The vault seems to have an unchangeable temperature of arctic lowness, so after dressing down to a t-shirt and stuffing my secrets into skin-hugging, leg-exposing bondage gear, I was freezing and actually somewhat anxious to exercise for the purpose of heating up. As if it’s not bad enough the shorts have a diaper built into them…

Gene fit me on the bike, got the gizmo gadgets on me to measure my rates, and I got ready to begin. He told me to keep my heart rate under 115 for the first few days of acclimation, for the sake of validity with our metabolic progress reports. Just looking at the bike put me at a rate of 110. That’s not true – it took at least a minute. Long story short, after 30 mins of cycling, I averaged 115. I rule. Ignore the fact that I was putting very little physical effort into the whole Spin session to maintain that heart rate. Apparently that’s alright, as it’s the right track for my development.

The class was 6-8 women and myself. Any one of them could likely kick me to death in a matter of seconds. After the class, Gene announced to all that it was my first class and instructed people to clap, claiming that humiliating newbies is “obligatory.” Surprisingly, he didn’t mention my oversized head or feet to the group.

All in all, you could say the first class was a success. I kept my rate where it should have been, got used to the bike, got a bit of exercise, and went through a new experience. I got through it with no problem and, once again, am surprised to find myself saying I don’t believe I’ll wake up paralyzed tomorrow. It feels good to be doing something for my health, and especially for my heart, because it seems it needs the workout. Seeing my heart rate amp up when I was hardly doing anything was troubling, yet there was satisfaction knowing that I’ve taken the first step to reversing it. My legs are probably the second most out of shape part of my body, so it’s a win-win of nearly epic Hollywood proportions.

This isn’t a somber, melodramatic story of love and loss after all. It’s a big, ridiculous, bombs and fire Michael Bay summer action flick. Trade in the weeping violins for a gatling gun.

Oh, there was one downside to the fairly easy exercise… When the class was over, I returned to my vault still cold.

As some French guy once said, “It doesn’t matter if the water is cold or warm if you’re going to have to wade through it anyway.”

This blog will chronicle my Spinning and subsequent development of superhero-level powers of strength and endurance at the Global Ride facility in Lower Burrell, Pennsylvania.  Global Ride is the home of all things Spinning®, yoga and pilates, as well as the headquarters of Cycling Fusion.