Harder, better, faster, stronger

Yesterday afternoon I started coming down with a cold, probably because this is the perfect time to be sick, what with two conferences and a trip to a foreign country taking place in the next seven days. So maybe it’s my repressed immune system? Stress? The Universe telling me LISTEN, you think you’re going to put on a bathing suit next Tuesday? LET ME GIVE YOU A SUBTLE HINT.

It remained in my throat throughout last night and into this morning, so I decided to go ahead and attend my Wednesday morning spin class. I know, I know, you don’t have to tell me what an idiot I am, Jon has taken care of that for you. That’s part of the charm of being married, of knowing someone loves you unconditionally but can tell you with unparalleled sincerity that “you’re a fucking dumbass.”

I told the teacher before class started that if she pulled one of those “we’re going to stand the entire hour” routines on us, I was going to throw up, please have mercy. The teacher is also my trainer, who yesterday morning put me through a workout so intense that not even halfway through it I started to get the Elvis Presley legs, all shakin’ and movin’, except with a lot less sex appeal and a lot more fallen’ over on my face because my legs could no longer support the weight of my body.

So this morning she took us through my favorite kind of routine, one where we work on strength through intervals and target heart rate all while remaining in the seat. And because I was already sore from yesterday and feeling the beginning of a raging cold, I made the mature decision to hold back a little bit. This is hard for me because I want to be the valedictorian of spin class. And valedictorians? They are not mature. They are masochistic and self-punishing and total right out dumbasses.

So where I normally would have taken my heart rate to 85% maximum, I held it back to about 75%, and in doing so I could keep my legs going as fast as everyone else in class. This proved to be a solid decision because one, I really would have thrown up if I had taken my heart rate higher. And two, I was on the bike right next to the real leader of spin class: a woman who has eight kids and still manages to do two spin classes back to back at least three times a week. And even in that second class everyone is looking at each other like, “Did that woman eat Superman sandwiches for breakfast?”

Forget the back to back spin classes. She has eight kids. She wins right there.

At the end of class as we were stretching, she shook her head, wiped the back of her neck and said, “Man, you were going wicked fast today!”

This took me by surprise a little bit, and when I looked up at the teacher she nodded with her in agreement.

“Yeah, well…” I thought for a second about my eternal salvation.

And then I remembered I don’t believe in that anymore.

“This is my kind of workout,” I explained. “You like the ones when we stand, but I do better when we sit.”

What? At least I’m telling you the truth.