I'll Give You a "Speed-Burst", Bitch!

My newest (and oddest) obsession of late is spin. This is an odd obsession for me because I am lazy, uncoordinated and lacking of any athletic skill. And I love cake more than any food on the planet. The last time I tried to be "athletic", I took up weight lifting and ended up having two back surgeries.

A couple of months ago, I decided to try a spin class (or what I also refer to as '60 minutes of cardiac arrest'). Instantly, I was hooked. I love this class! I get to mount a bike in a dark room with black lights, a disco ball and "ride" like I'm some sort of super-goddess... leading a pack of 10-15 other riders up steep hills and along arduous 'trails'. For one hour I get to pretend that I finally fit in with my super-fit peers. Never mind that nobody can see I'm turning blue from lack of oxygen. Thank goodness nobody can hear me gasping for air over the loud, thumping music that helps us all set our pace. Spin class is my 1-hour of super-human powers.

Sunday's class featured an instructor who leads a segment called "speed-bursts". For this segment, each person in the class gets to determine when to start and stop a burst of all-out, pedal till you take off in flight-speed. Then the next person gets to start and stop the burst, and so on. After having been lead by 8 other spinners... some who just want to be left alone to ride in peace; others who fancy themselves hard-core and lead us thru longer bursts... we finally get to the final "leader". She is a petite woman in micro-shorts. She's not really sweating. I'm not sure how it's possible that this woman is not sweating AND is able to ride an hour on that bike, in that saddle, wearing those teeny little shorts without setting her ass or thighs on fire?! But, whatever. I'm not here to analyze her. I'm here to lead these poor souls up this steep mountain and over the finish line! RIGHT?!?

Sweet little micro-shorts whishpers "speed burst". Nobody can hear her over the whirring of the fly-wheels and the instructor's music, so he has to yell it out for her. "SPEED BURST! GO! GO! GO!"

It's game on! We all 'take off' and pedal as fast as we can. Adrenaline is pumping. Hard-hitting rock music is thumping all around me. Sweat is pouring off my face. My GOD! I'm SURE those little animated speed lines are trailing behind me!!!! Whoa! Did my muscular quads just rip my bike pants??? I'm giving it everything cuz I'm sure she's going to yell at us to stop pretty soon, now. Any second, now, she's going to yell at us to stop. She knows she needs to tell us to stop, right? My legs are bogging down. I can't keep up this warp-speed pace. For the love of God, she's making us speed burst thru an entire techno song! Song's over. She's still letting us go, go, go. I look over at her like, "Yo, bitch! You gonna stop us or what?!" and I notice the little tartlet doesn't have any tension set on her bike!!!! She's free-wheeling the speed-burst! No wonder she's not sweating! No wonder her thighs aren't sending out SOS smoke signals! 80 different ways to yank a person off a bike flash before my eyes when she squeaks out, "okay. We can stop, now". Then she hops off her bike and trots out of the classroom. She didn't stay for the cool-down, she didn't lower the seat or handlebars nor did she wipe off her bike. She just dismounted and bounced out with her daisy-duke bike shorts riding higher up her butt.

"OMG!!!!!" I gasp. "I am sooooo going to kick her ass!"
"Just as soon as I'm released from the ER!"

-B(Sting)

Welcome to My Hive

It's been done. I've set up my own blog. After years of reading other blogs and laughing heartily and thinking, "Oh for chrissakes! That's exactly how I feel!"... I've finally created my own blog. I don't actually believe that there are people who will want to read what I have to type. I don't think I have anything to say that is so different from what everyone else is saying. I just know that funny stuff seems to unfold before my very eyes and it's time I start recording these funny events. And sad stuff, too. Oh! And stuff that is really maddening! Yes! That happens a lot. So I'm going to start documenting these random things.

You know, I may not even tell anyone I've created this blog spot. I may just write to you... my phantom reader.... my "faux" reader.

So, thank you, faux reader, for making me feel like you give a rat's ass. That's kind of a nice feeling!

-B(Sting)