Comments from a Horrible and Regretful Cyclist

Good Morning World!!!

We woke up late today, and by late I mean 7am. Which meant that I did not have time to get myself ready, feed Jo, and prepare lunches before Jordan had to be at work. Most times he just goes late, but today he is going to a meeting about ISYS research during his lunch break. So he can't just skip it and make up for the time lost in the morning.
As a result of all this, I was not able to go to my 9am spinning class. I am somewhat conflicted about this outcome. On the one hand, I saved myself an hour of pure torture. On the other hand, I know I will miss that satisfying moment when I get off the bike and say "I did it! I survived! My legs feel like jello, my brain is all a fuzz, and my arms are shaking - but I did not surrender! I fought a good fight!"
Granted my good fights are pathetic compared to everyone else in the class.
The woman who is 6 months pregnant and cycles next to me can go twice as fast, and everyone else in the class can go twice as fast as her. I won't even talk about my teacher.
They have a poster of Lance Armstrong on the wall and all I can think is "his life must be continual pain." How anyone can spend their lives cycling is beyond me. Any more than three hours a week and I would be suicidal.
Everyone else comes into the class with big smiles on their faces, all wet from just finishing their swim training. And they cheer during class! Yes, CHEER!! I mean we will have just finished two minutes of power-jumps, (if you don't know what those are, count your blessings), and then the teacher screams into the microphone, "Keep it up! Don't let yourself fall behind" and the whole class responds with "WooHoo! Yeah!" One woman even claps sometimes.
What do I do? I practice self-control. Not in making myself work harder, oh no, by that point I can't even feel my legs anymore. I practice self-control by trying not to think evil thoughts about my smiling, perfectly skinny, teacher. Who somehow has her hair softly flowing down her smooth slender shoulders. Doesn't this woman ever sweat?
When I glance up at the clock (this takes a lot of effort) and see there are still ten minutes of class I feel like crying. I want to get off my bike and crawl out of the room. But I can't do this. I can't let my teacher, miss Cylcist Barbie, win. I refuse to give her the satisfaction.
So I keep cycling, as fast as I can, which is rather slow really. And I loathingly listen as the two girls in front of me start talking about the marathon they ran on Saturday.
Cyclist 1: "How do you think you did?"
Cyclist 2: "I did okay. I wasn't really trying this time. I just signed up for fun."
Cyclist 1: "Yeah, those are the best marathons. When you just do it to relax and get outside."
I hold my breath to keep myself from puking all over her Utah County Triathlon shirt. But then I realize I am getting dizzy, I've lost the ability to hear, and am slowly falling to the left. I quickly take two deep breaths to keep from completely passing out and take another peek at the clock. Eight minutes left!!!! You've gotta be kidding me!!
After a millenium, (and not the fun kind when Christ will rule the earth. Pretty sure cycling classes will be banned during that one) class is finally over. Everyone else gets off their bike (Cyclist Barbie springs off with a cheerful smile on her sweat-free face). They all begin to stretch and act all chummy. I just sit on my bike staring at the handle bars. I'm afraid that if I try and clamber off I will fall over because me feet are numb.
Once everyone has left I stumble off my bike and stare at Jo sitting in her carseat. I grab the handle with both hands and literally drag her out of the classroom. I collapse on a couch in the hallway. Still breathing heavily.

Then something miraculous happens. Then comes that moment of pure satisfaction - "I did it! I survived! My legs feel like jello, my brain is all a fuzz, and my arms are shaking - but I did not surrender! I fought a good fight!"
And I can go throughout the rest of my day feeling like a champion. No matter how bad dinner tastes, no matter how long it takes me to find the right flavor of ice-cream at the grocery store, no matter how dirty the floors are, or how fussy Jo is. I did not give up, I did not back down. I survived spinning!! And that is really saying something.