I've been using my time off of work wisely. I walk pets, answer emails, and watch 5,000 hours of Court T.V. everyday. Also, I go to classes at the gym. Because of my overwhelming lack of self motivation, classes are a great way for me to get in exercise. Without the peer pressure of other people watching and an instructor yelling at me, I'm on the stair master for 10 minutes or less, convincing myself it's more than enough time.
Since my days are now driven by my timeline and not my clients' timelines, I've been able to attend steadily. Two nights a week I attend a weight class, where I keep my guns and six pack in working order. After weights, I stick around for yoga. Two mornings a week, I go to spin. My gym has two morning spin classes: the 6am and the 9am. The 6am is where people who work for a living show up. The 9am is the retiree spin class. That's where I've been going.
It's great. Everyone is at least three decades older than me. The teacher turns 67 next week. He's about 5'3", 90 pounds of lean muscle, bald and wears spandex bike shorts. Actually, except for me, most everyone shows up in tight, spandex, bike clothes. Which makes sense, since they are all in 20x better shape than me.
While slightly introverted, I'm still friendly enough, so I've been making an effort to chat with everyone before class and get accepted into the fold. But, you know, they're suspicious of me. Mainly because I don't remember the Great Depression and because I'm too young to be this out of shape. I think they can also tell that I cheat in class. I've always cheated in spin class. It's probably why I love spin so much. I look like I'm keeping up with the class. I'm on the seat when I'm supposed to be, off the seat when I'm supposed to be, and keep the same pace as everyone else. Thing is, the part where you are supposed to turn the dial and increase the tension? I rarely bother with that. But, in case anyone is watching, I pretend to. I sort of cup my hand around the dial, and make the motion like I'm turning it. Then I pedal a little slower to match the retirees' pace and look like it's harder for me to move. I stopped making the groan-y face because I thought that was over kill. A little too deceptive.
So, that's where you can find me two mornings a week, at the gym in baggy sweats and a head band, being out pedaled by a room of people older than my Grandparents.
