It’s my ride

As of the new year, I’m in my sixth month of YMCA membership. Minus a few weeks of sickness, business travel, and holiday gluttony, I’ve been pretty good about going! I take a variety of classes throughout the week, and back in September, I tried spin classes for the first time. I don’t ride a bike at all, so I knew that the cycling motion would be foreign, to say nothing of the difficulty of the class itself. In fact, I had a sneaking suspicion that I would severely dislike spin class, but that is not an excuse not to try, so I decided to give myself a month, or 4 classes. I hoped to get past the probable phase of dislike and into the more manageable phase of challenging-but-for-my-own-good.

The 6am Friday instructor, Mike, was very nice. He helped me set up my bike and told me not to worry about the increases in resistance at first. Just get the pace at first, he said.

Oh, my goodness. Spin class was the hardest thing I had ever tried. The pedaling motion was totally new to me, and my legs were not pleased. No, wait. My rear end was even less pleased. That first class was really hard, and the hour crawled. I was sore for days afterward, but I convinced myself that the next class would be better, so I came back a week later. And the week after that. And the week after that. Even though I improved just slightly in setting up my bike and not looking like a fool, I could hardly ever keep up the pedaling pace, much less crank my resistance like the instructor told us. I gasped my way through the warm-up and then could not stop myself from looking at the clock every 2 minutes. One time, we did 8 5-minute cycles, and I wanted to cry. Each cycle seemed endless, and there were so many of them! By my fourth class, I resigned myself to the facts. Spin class was hard, yes, but I did not like it. The newness of it did not give way to my normal teeth-gritted determination to improve each time. That style of exercise did not inspire me to do better; as soon as I was trapped on my bike, I just wanted to get out of there. I let it go after the month was over.

However, I did glean a valuable lesson from my stint in the spin studio. At the beginning of every class, Mike would tell us what the overall routine would be (like, argh, 8 5-minute cycles), and then he’d say, “Remember, it’s your ride! I’m going to push you, but you’re here for you. It’s your ride.”

Hm. It’s my ride.

Now, when I’m struggling to hold a plank or push through my third mile or hold my legs at 45 degrees during my hundreds, I remember this sentence. Sometimes, I work through the struggle, but sometimes, I rein myself in and lean back into child’s pose or put my knees down for 5 seconds. “It’s my ride” helps me persist but also relax. It reminds me that the effort I’m putting in is better than the nothing I was doing before, and the challenges I have are all part of it. Even though I hated spin class, I’m glad I learned that mantra. So, yoga today, then Body Pump on Thursday, Pilates on Saturday, and Zumba on Sunday, and it’s all part of my ride.

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