I'm easily classified as a fitness nut. My love affair for fitness is vast and deep, spanning more than 15 years of my life. When I'm not teaching a fitness class, I'm eagerly exploring the latest and greatest ... except if it's a spin class. But with the exceptionally popular SoulCycle recently landing in Dallas, I knew I needed to try it.
I paid my $20 for a first-time ride and lured one of my friends to tag along. As soon as we shuffled into the studio, we were met by smiling cycle students. This definitely looked like the spot where all the cool kids hung out, but they weren't acting too cool for school.
Me, on the other hand? I looked and felt new. Here were 5 things going through my head:
Uhh, how does this bike work?
Whenever I take a spin class, I have a paralyzing fear that I won't know how to properly adjust my seat. A small panic attack ensues: I imagine the instructor will start class and I'll be left in the dust, still adjusting the handlebars. And at the trendy spots like SoulCycle, you don't wear your own kicks; you use special cycle shoes that clip into the bike. My qualms were brushed aside when the SoulCycle team attentively helped us before class. OK, crisis averted. But I still felt as awkward as all get-out, perched up high on the bike.
My butt already hurts.
Lord knows I don't have a boney backside, yet still, cycling always leaves me sore for a few days. The avid die-hards always say, "Oh, but you get used to it." I suppose I've never given it a fighting chance, so I can't say for sure if it gets better. But I will say with SoulCycle, it hurt, but not as much as my previous cycle encounters. I think it chalks up to two things: my correct placement of the seat height and the fact that we were "out of the saddle" for a big chunk of the class. Which, HELLO, is hard. I had to pop an Advil when I got home because my quads were throbbing.
I'm dying. When can it stop?
After 20 minutes, the novelty of spinning our wheels wore off. Typically, this is the point where monotony kicks in during all cycle classes I've experienced. I could tell the feisty instructor, Hayes, was doing his best to distract everyone with loud rap music. As the words of Future and The Weeknd spilled out of the speakers, I mustered through. Hayes was entirely entertaining -- but, yeah, tough -- and the 45-minute class was nearly over before I thought to look at the clock. It helps that the music was, seriously, legit. I felt like I was in the hottest spot in town, "partying" while working out. The "I'm dying" feeling didn't sink in until the last 40 minutes on the final sprint.
I suck at this and the regulars are all killing it.
Everything about this is true: You do suck at it, and that guy over there is better than you. Just don't get hung up on it. With repetition comes improvement and comfort. I just embraced and accepted that I would be off rhythm; I wouldn't spin my feet as fast as they did; I might take an extra drink break. Once I got over that, it was liberating.
You say to turn my gauge to the right. #nope
For anyone who's taken a cycle class, you understand what "turn your gauge to the right" means. It makes it harder. The gauge is intended to add resistance to the ride so you have some variation between sprints and climbs. When Hayes was really hitting me with his inspiration (ha!), I would twist that gauge to the right like he said. Then there were times where I certainly faked turning the gauge to the right. It's cool. Nobody saw.
By KIMBER WESTPHALL/Special Contributor
We're willing to try new things in town when you don't want to.
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Send your requests to @guidelive on Twitter.
