Daily Torture

Let's talk spin class- you know, that class that has been all the rage for awhile?  The one where women leave drenched in sweat, where Bridget Jones keels off the bike?  I knew that would jog your memory!  I have been spinning off and on since just before Christmas - specifically doing the Les Mills RPM at my local Goodlife and I am telling you - it is cut throat... everyone jockeys to get their name on the list to secure one of the coveted 16 bikes.  They do not put the list out until 15 minutes before and if there is a line up then you have no hope in hell of getting on a bike.  My gym partner, JWow, and I have it down to a science.  If we get changed before leaving the office and leave at 11:50 then we can make it for a 12:05 class, which then gives us just enough time to switch footwear and ditch our coats (gotta love winter!) and still get a decent bike.

I now strategically arm myself with a waterbottle, a Gatorade and a towel to prop up the extra waterbottle because there is only one holder.  I have had a few incidents where I left a little too light-headed, so the Gatorade and water help to curb that.  Because of my IBS I can only eat a small amount before going to the class, which is likely the reason for feeling a little loopy afterwards.  The first class I attended was what I would call nothing short of a rude awakening.  Not having ever been a lover of bikes even in my childhood, I have never really experienced that bruised, violated feeling in my nether regions, as I have never experienced walking bow legged - until now.  That feeling was almost enough to stop me from ever going again.  However, I went back for more "daily torture"  and thank goodness you eventually adapt to that horribly unforgiving seat.

As for the actual spinning itself - it is bloody awful.  I cannot quite comprehend how anyone enjoys this.  I go because, according to my heart rate monitor, I burn anywhere between 500 and 700 calories and no matter how diligent I may be at lunch hour gym time, nothing pushes me like that little man at the front of the room sweating and singing and yelling "out of the saddle", "attack"!  I am petrified of him calling me out and saying "give it some gear"!  So I go, reluctantly.  Being a redhead I look as if I am mid heart attack throughout and for at least half an hour afterwards.  It is amazing no one has handed me an aspirin!

However, I must admit  that the class is growing on me, afterwards I am always glad I went.  Despite this change of heart, I always walk up to class with a sense of impending doom.  I think of that awful seizing in my quads, the unnatural feeling of sitting on a bike and those random weirdos who feel compelled to yell out the power words in every chorus.  Just so we are clear, in no situation is that normal and everyone in the class is silently cursing you - if you must sing, buy a bike and put it in your basement.  

Today was RPM day and as usual, I was reluctant to go.  However, as we had organized a ladies night where I anticipated ordering a Nutella pizza, I decided the prudent move would be to go to class.  The result?  We burned 541 calories and ate an undisclosed amount of calories sourced from delicious Neapolitan style pizza.

For the love of yoga

Tomorrow is the two-week anniversary since my last run, and the day I plan to hit the pavement once again.  My heel is almost back to normal, so, my body will at least be intact enough to go.  However, with such a long break I am nervous at the thought of what I can or cannot accomplish.  While ingesting several spoonfuls of Nutella, I did briefly contemplate running tonight, but after a few moments deep in thought I took another spoonful and decided to make it an even two weeks.  Instead, I think I will do some yoga.

I have discovered that yoga has many benefits aside from the zen-factor.  First of all, it does not require me to run through the streets dressed up as the abominable snowwoman in the dead of winter.  (It appears as though I may be a fairweather runner.)  Secondly, a good yoga session can be completed virtually sweat-free, which is excellent if you happen to do yoga in the middle of the day. I have also discovered that yoga can be hugely beneficial to those suffering with IBS.  It has taught me valuable lessons about remaining calm, learning to relax my body and to breathe properly.  This can be especially helpful when in a panic situation; concentrating on your breathing can enable you to reach a safe zone before the shit hits the fan.

Yoga is also a great complement to running given all of the wonderful hip-opening postures that exist.  I do yoga 2-3 times a week, unfortunately, I have yet to enjoy any moment of those postures, specifically, pigeon pose.  I find pigeon pose to be the most excruciating posture imaginable and although I am told to form an intention at the beginning of the class, or to dedicate my practice to someone I love and admire, I mostly dedicate my practice to praying that our instructor will choose to completely forget about pigeon pose...  I am still praying... The name alone does not evoke images of calmness or serenity, instead, I see flying rats, disease and filth.  During pigeon pose I endeavour to direct my breathing to the areas that hurt so that the energy will relax those muscles.  I also clench my teeth, hyperventilate, swear (silently) and pray for the end.  And then we have to do the other side.  Yoga is nothing if not equal.

But, in all honesty, I do love yoga and have enjoyed many benefits to practicing regularly.  I notice that I am more flexible, it helps my back and neck and it provides me with a calm interlude throughout the week.  For the past four years I have been attending a weekly lunch hour yoga practice, and I must admit that I look forward to each and every Yoga Wednesday.  When you are required to sit at a desk all day, yoga comes as a welcome break, leaving you both mentally and physically re-energized.

With that, I will strike a runners' pose as a tribute to tomorrow's torture.