Not long ago, after a morning yoga session, I announced to my colleagues that I thought I would go to yoga again that day, for a second class. Based on the reaction I received, you would have thought I had told them....I don't know...something controversial and also funny. I simply responded, "Listen, if you're me and your body has the urge to workout more, you do not, under any circumstances, question it."
So today, on January 1, 2014--a day when I was meant to stay in bed or, at most, brunch leisurely, I couldn't ignore the feeling that I needed to work out. My last yoga session was on Sunday and I hadn't really be exerting much of anything the last two days and particularly not effort. My lingering cold was finally in remission and my boredom with the day was mounting by the minute. Health Yoga Life was closed for the holiday, so I had to look elsewhere.
Enter Flywheel Sports. One of several "boutique" spin studios serving the Greater Boston area. Apparently there are a few ultra-posh versions of these seemingly simple workout meccas, including Soul Cycle and, here in Boston, ReCycle. All of the companies differ slightly (one offers free shoes, another better branding, another the self-satisfaction of sponsoring a local business--and likely telling everyone that is the reason you go there) but they all offer the promise of an exciting spin class experience. Oh, additionally, they are all crazy expensive. A drop in class at Flywheel will set you back $28. It lasts 45 mins.
A couple things: (i) I have never been to a spin class and (ii) I am poor. However, Flywheel, as it happens, offers a free class for every first time guest. With no excuse (other than the freezing, freezing, freezing temperatures) I signed up online and booked myself a bike in the back row.
By the time I walked the 1.5 miles to the Prudential Center mall, I was convinced that no amount of pedaling could thaw out my frozen and brittle body. I was wrong.
Richard, our affable guide through the 45 minute spin adventure, introduced himself personally to each of us and gave me a few words of advice as a first-timer. Apparently, I didn't need to worry about the Torq (TM/sic), I should, instead, focus on my pace. "You should feel like you're dancing." said Richard. And 45 minutes later, I did. I felt exactly like I was dancing with a clunky metal partner and a broom stick shoved up my ass.
To paint the scene a bit more fully, Flywheel is a stadium cycling experience. So, like fancy movie theaters and football arenas, everyone has a clear view of the action. As mentioned before, I choose a seat in the back row. As luck would have it the bike was also next to a wall on my right hand side, providing almost complete privacy for my personal sweat session. The other bikes (there are 48 total in the room, I would say 40 of them were occupied) were filled by about $15,000 worth of lululemon apparel which was in turn occupied by various sized white women and four white men.
From my perch in the far back, I clipped in my free shoes (a notable perk of Flywheel---no renting required) and began to spin my feet listlessly. Richard assumed his position in the center spot, turned on his mic and pushed play on an upbeat playlist. And then something magical happened. He turned out the lights. Seriously, he was spotlit and we were in the dark. It was amazing.
I'm not sure how other people feel about fitness classes, but I kind of hate them. I am large and a man and generally nervous--which leads to stupid mistakes and clumsy mishaps. But in the dark, who cares! Other people probably love the electronic leader board that (should you not opt out, as I did) shows the class exactly which women and which men are working the hardest in the class at that moment. Some people likely enjoy the hygienically cleaned bathrooms with showers and free lockers. Keep your plasma screens and throw my stuff on the floor--just be sure to keep turning off the lights.
To say that I sweat in the 45 minutes that followed is a polite understatement. I poured. Like a faucet or a hole in a roof. During a storm. Like Hurricane Sandy. The class consisted of three sprint sets (30 to 60 seconds of full sprinting that repeated a few times during each set) and 3 hill songs (where the class is told to gradually turn up the tension on their bikes simulating a climb which repeated 2 to 3 times per song). There was also a portion devoted only to arms, with weights conveniently placed in holders beneath the handle bars.
As is usually the case, I ignored Richard's advice and kept the tension at the level he instructed rather than taking it easy and focusing only on my tempo. I should have backed off...way off. Nevertheless, I did keep the beat with the songs, even though I felt like my legs were going to rip away from my body in protest. A few times, truth be told, I did drop to half tempo. I figured a slow dance is still a dance.
After class you receive a link to your results, including a summary of calories burned and milage covered. For your viewing pleasure:
I would like to draw your attention to the asterisk. I ain't no 145 lb rider. So I am going to throw on a couple hundred more calories just for good measure. That is an amazing number of calories burned in just 45 minutes. Stunning actually.
Will I go again? Absolutely. When? Shortly after I strike gold. I have already programmed my Groupon searches and Living Social bots to alert me of any Flywheel deals. Free is such a great price, it's hard to beat it.
In short, the class definitely scratched my workout itch. And, honestly, it was fun. Bonus that it happened on New Year's Day--hopefully a good sign for the coming year.
Tim
No comments:
Post a Comment