Exercise Metabolic Tests and YOU! (Actually, me)

Imagine sitting on a stone-hard seat of iron, hypodermic needles stabbing you in the forearms, a 40-pound plastic suit covering your entire body as you are forced to work, your head completely enclosed in a space helmet, the smell of stink and rot blowing against you, and a hairy-backed dungeon master clubbing you in the shins with an iron mace.

Oh, crap… I gave away that was an exaggeration. The dungeon master doesn’t come in on Tuesdays.

For serious, today was the metabolic exercise test. We’ll accept the word ‘test’ in its literal form for this one, as I actually had to saddle up on the old bike and chug away while breathing through the mask and tube. (You remember, the one for people with big heads). Turns out I have big feet, too. Being a small guy, I seem to be some kind of awesome proportional mutant.

For those who have never experienced an exercise metabolic test (I hate typing that, by the way, very awkward), it’s essentially taking the getup used in the “don’t fall asleep” test from the other day and wearing it while doing some simple Spinning. The intelligent and omniscient gizmo gadgets monitor your internal functions and tell you more about yourself in ten minutes than you could ever figure out on your own, presented in full color graphs on handy 8.5″x11″ inkjet paper.

We did have to do the test twice because I accidentally overexerted myself on the first go and threw off the machine. One point for me. On the second run, I focused and concentrated, pedaled as I was told to pedal, manipulated the resistance as I was told to manipulate it, tried to stay on level, and basked in the cooling zephyr of Gene’s “imported from Hawaii” air from the plastic fan mounted on the wall. About five minutes later, I set a new Global Ride record: shortest test time! The way I interpreted it, this record could also be read as “Most out of shape person to be given an exercise metabolic test at Global Ride.”

My anaerobic threshold hit somewhere in the fourth minute, if I recall correctly. My VO2 (which I’m told is a fancy way of saying lung capacity) was somewhere around 20, and apparently it’d be nice if it were double that. My heart rate peaked in the 120s and during recovery would only decrease by 5-7 bpm, which is about 75% slower than would be good. Numbers and figures aside, the test wasn’t too physically difficult – and despite all preconceptions I had, I don’t think I’m going to wake up paralyzed tomorrow.

That might happen after the first real Spin session. This little soiree was merely a prime time trailer for the real show, with a headline of “Coming Soon.”