Yes. It happened. And it is so amazing to me that I’m forgetting all about star-type people today and telling you about this.
Flywheel is a sort of tricked-out spin class. It’s kind of a cool concept: you’re on a stationary bike, in sort of a amphitheater formation around the instructor, totally in the dark. The music is very loud and tends toward club sounds that you sort of gear the bike to keep up with. Sort of, kind of, sort of.
How did I end up there this morning, you ask? Well, although I am an exercise-averse woman, two of my very best friends are actually fitness professionals. Weird, right? It’s like atheists bonding with fundamentalists, vegans with carnivores: doesn’t make sense. Except that it does. Anyway, these two tricks are always trying to find something physical that I’ll really like. My friend Leigh – who used to be my trainer – cajoled me into trying Flywheel, mostly with the promise that the first class is free . . . and that the studio is totally dark. I was pretty much sold when I realized it was lights out in the studio. I am oddly vain about certain things, and people seeing me sweaty and red is one of them. I’m also a proponent of ear-splitting music to dull the pain of hard work.
I got a little scared when I drove up and saw that Flywheel’s tagline is “NEVER COAST.” Wait, what?
Oh snap! Coasting is what I do best! I’ve made it a lifestyle! Even though I felt Flywheel and I had philosophical disagreements, I couldn’t let Leigh down. And plus I was afraid she’d already seen me so I couldn’t sneak back to the car.
That’s when I experienced my next jolt: everyone in the waiting area was between 25 and 35 and waaaifish. One chick whacked me with her giant Prada bag by accident (I’m giving the side-eye to “by accident”) and another practically whipped me in the face with her ponytail as she sprinted past. I didn’t feel great about these carb-starved gazelles but I felt loyalty to my friend so again, I didn’t leave.
The people there were really nice about helping me clip my shoes in and get the seat at the right height and then we began. Lights went WAY down, music started pumping, and the instructor enthusiastically instructed the hell out of us!
It wasn’t bad, you guys! There were two low points: after one standing uphill interval that felt like it lasted 3 minutes but was probably 10 seconds, I really thought I might vom. Right there on the bike. Once my mind started generating pictures of other people fleeing and “eww”ing, and the instructor having to stop the class and turn the lights on, I actually felt sicker. But I rebounded and I’m proud to say I never coasted! I pedaled through the whole thing!
The second low point was when the instructor, trying to urge us to really pour it on, yelled “YOU WANT THIS!” and I spoke out loud, sort of to myself, sort of to others. What did I say?
“No. I don’t. I really don’t.”
The class seemed like it went by quickly and as hard as it was, I will probably do it again. I felt like the music was a little heavy on the Skrillex/dubstep but maybe I could sneak up to the front and suggest to the instructor that we just go all out Dirty South: Outkast, Three 6 Mafia, Lil Jon and the East Side Boyz, you get the idea.
Yeah, that would totally work.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s box wine o’clock. Since this song has been in my head all day – and since every day is a good day for Santigold – I’ll leave you with one of my faves: Lights Out.