“Yup, this is it,” I thought. “It’s over.”
I could see the headlines: ‘Wheels Up: Jersey Shore Woman Keels Over In Spinning Class.’
I was going to meet my demise on a stationary bike, and the worst part? I never saw it coming. Not only did I think I was in decent shape — after all, I regularly practice yoga, I’ve run several short races, and I have two 4-year-olds — but the instructor of the spin class looked about 75.
“I got this,” I thought, brimming with confidence.
And then the class started.
With punk rock music blasting, we were taken through a “warmup” that had me struggling to catch my breath. As soon as one song ended, another began, and along with it instructions to “get up!” and “add more resistance!”
Through it all, the aforementioned elderly instructor kept riding — reading off the settings on his bike in case we thought he was slacking (he wasn’t) — and calling out anyone he thought was taking it easy. Being the only first-timer in the class, I foolishly figured I’d be exempt from his “encouragements,” but no such luck.
“Hey, Rangers!” he yelled, motioning to my bike, “pick it up!” I did, silently cursing my wardrobe choice — perhaps something less conspicuous than a loud NY Rangers shirt would’ve been better. But I wasn’t the only one being singled out. A woman who appeared to be around 25 years old was chastised for going too slow, along with a man who looked about 60. Turns out none of us were spared from the wrath of Mandelbaum (if you’re not familiar with the reference, watch this fantastic Seinfeld clip).
I considered leaving the class about 3 different times. But fortunately, my more rational side prevailed, and I decided to stick it out (or, perhaps more accurately, I was too scared to sneak out). At the end of the class, I felt great. Yes, my legs threatened to give out as I walked to my car, but I felt like I’d climbed a mountain — not just because I survived the class, but because I had successfully broken out of my comfort zone.
I hate to admit it, but it had been years since I’d taken a class that didn’t end with “Namaste.” Part of the reason is that yoga has helped me to become more centered and has eased the back pain I’ve had since carrying twins. At yoga, I know what to expect, and I know that I never have to push myself too hard, as the instructors always say things like “honor your body” and “take any modifications you need.” It can be as strenuous or gentle as you want.
And for the most part, that’s fine by me. But recently, I realized that what I wanted was to be pushed a little harder, and so I followed another common yoga mantra: “don’t be afraid to try new things. If it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work.”
In my case, it did.
I plan to take Mandelbaum’s class again, in the hopes that I can improve a little bit each time. And even if the learning curve is slow, what’s important is that I’m willing to get back on the bike.
And check my pride at the door.
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