3.18.98

Early last Sunday morning I took the "Intro to Road Racing" class at my new trendy gym. It's now Wednesday and I'm only now barely able to walk normally.

Road Racing is basically just Spinning. Spinning, if you haven't heard of this, is basically an aerobic workout on a stationary bike. You are crammed up against a dozen or so others on the bike and are led by a hyper-mouse of an instructor. Commands:

Bend those elbows!
Flatten those abs!
Stand up!
Sit down!
Increase resistance!
Faster!
Breathe!

Don't fall off!
Don't smash teeth against handlebars!
Resistance is futile!
Kill or be killed!

I've watched the Road Racing classes over the past few weeks while waiting for my Boxing classes to begin. The class is held in a small glassed-in room off of the main room where all the punching bags are. It's absolutely fascinating to watch.

Typically the glass is vibrating and, on the outside, the bass of the pulsing music sounds evil and apocalyptic in a Nine Inch Nails/Speed Metal kind of way. The "racers" bodies drip with sweat and hunch over in fierce determination. They move in one fluid motion at the commands of the sadistic instructor giving the overall impression of one massive, flesh and bone machine.

So, of course, I had to try it.

It only took four revolutions of the pedals for my thigh muscles to stiffen up. The bike is constructed racing style with the handle bars low to encourage body streamlining. Ideally, you're supposed to keep your stomach in while relying on your keen sense of balance and awareness of your hips to keep you in the saddle. Only the tips of your fingers should lightly grace the handlebars as your elbows are bent and your heels push to the ground in effortless motion. Yeah, right. I was hanging onto those handle bars with all my might.

The bicycle seats are constructed of the hardest substance known to mankind. Fortunately, the bruises on embarrassing parts of my derriere healed faster than my legs -- but not fast enough.

We were supposed to stand and cycle during certain parts and lean forward and cycle during others. Forget about it. I was able to do that for barely a revolution before I was back on my ass. It got to the point that I just ignored the dominatrix leading the class and became determined just to cycle and finish.

The music was pretty good though.

I guess I need to spend a few weeks on the stairmaster before I go into one of these classes again. Afterwards, one of the girls in the class approached me and asked me what I thought. I told her that I hated it. She encouraged me to try it again saying, "the first class really is the hardest." Then, like an expert in sales she whipped out a cushy bicycle seat cover: "You really should get one of these."

I don't know if I should try this class ever again. T. would surely get tired of massaging my legs while I scream for mercy, "Oh, for the love of God, man, don't stop -- it hurts so good!"

Uh, anyway...

So basically I wrote this story just to tell you what a wimp I am. Somehow exercise through pain seems really "L.A." to me. Maybe I'll try Pilates next week -- my gym offers it and I read in Los Angeles Magazine that's it's really trendy.

Have you ever tried this? Can you walk?