Falling Out
~
For almost a year now, spin classes at 24 Hour Fitness have been a staple of both my fitness regimen and my social life. I attended five or six classes a week and hung out with the instructor (Roger) and others on the weekends.
But that's a thing of the past now.
About a month ago, I had a falling out with Roger. He was leading a class and had told everybody to bring their resistance up to ten. Previous instructors had told me that a ten is achieved when you can no longer keep the beat of a dance song, and one more quarter turn to the right will bring you to a complete halt. So that's where I was.
But Roger chastised me for pedaling too slow. He himself was keeping the beat just fine. In fact, he kept it up for three or four minutes, whooping and shouting all the while. It was quite a show.
Given that my ten and his ten are so evidently different, I asked him to define a ten for me. All I wanted was a verbal definition, but Roger took my question as a challenge, ordering me to dismount my bike so he could set it at a ten with his own hands. Eager to show off for the class, he hastily cranked my resistance up several turns to the right and, inadvertently, started to lose steam.
Not wanting to lose face, he leapt off my bike and ordered me to remount it, apparently certain that I would be unable to sustain the resistance to which he had just set it (since he himself could not sustain it). But, when I got back on my bike, I discovered that it was pretty easy for me to sustain it indefinitely. And I made the mistake of saying so.
For about a half an hour, Roger left me alone, apparently humbled by his failed attempt to show off. But then he commanded us to go back up to a ten, and he positioned his bike directly in front of mine. He then launched into an over-the-top nose-to-nose face-off, in which he pretended to be at the same level of resistance as me. He grunted and crossed his brows and stared me down.
I kept up with him for a long time, but, since I was at a much higher level of resistance than he was, I eventually crapped out. He laughed mockingly, which pissed me off. I told him that all he has proven is that he is willing to make more intense faces than I am. I suggested that, if he wants to prove conclusively that he is a better biker than me, we would have to switch bikes. But, of course, he ignored that suggestion.
In short, it was a calculated deception designed to make Roger look good by making me APPEAR to be a weaker biker, and it was frustrating as hell, because I'm the only one in the class who knows how low he keeps his resistance.
I took a couple weeks off and returned again, only to be subject to a similar display of machismo, which involved everybody else in the class being punished for my refusal to obey Roger's command to a tee.
I've really loved spin classes. They've been an important part of my life for almost a year, but I just can't go along with that kind of disrespect.
So, guess what? I just signed up to become a spin instructor on my own. The fuck if I'm gonna let some ego-maniacal, over-compensating pantywaist drive me out of spin culture. I'm gonna start my own OWN spin cult!
For almost a year now, spin classes at 24 Hour Fitness have been a staple of both my fitness regimen and my social life. I attended five or six classes a week and hung out with the instructor (Roger) and others on the weekends.
But that's a thing of the past now.
About a month ago, I had a falling out with Roger. He was leading a class and had told everybody to bring their resistance up to ten. Previous instructors had told me that a ten is achieved when you can no longer keep the beat of a dance song, and one more quarter turn to the right will bring you to a complete halt. So that's where I was.
But Roger chastised me for pedaling too slow. He himself was keeping the beat just fine. In fact, he kept it up for three or four minutes, whooping and shouting all the while. It was quite a show.
Given that my ten and his ten are so evidently different, I asked him to define a ten for me. All I wanted was a verbal definition, but Roger took my question as a challenge, ordering me to dismount my bike so he could set it at a ten with his own hands. Eager to show off for the class, he hastily cranked my resistance up several turns to the right and, inadvertently, started to lose steam.
Not wanting to lose face, he leapt off my bike and ordered me to remount it, apparently certain that I would be unable to sustain the resistance to which he had just set it (since he himself could not sustain it). But, when I got back on my bike, I discovered that it was pretty easy for me to sustain it indefinitely. And I made the mistake of saying so.
For about a half an hour, Roger left me alone, apparently humbled by his failed attempt to show off. But then he commanded us to go back up to a ten, and he positioned his bike directly in front of mine. He then launched into an over-the-top nose-to-nose face-off, in which he pretended to be at the same level of resistance as me. He grunted and crossed his brows and stared me down.
I kept up with him for a long time, but, since I was at a much higher level of resistance than he was, I eventually crapped out. He laughed mockingly, which pissed me off. I told him that all he has proven is that he is willing to make more intense faces than I am. I suggested that, if he wants to prove conclusively that he is a better biker than me, we would have to switch bikes. But, of course, he ignored that suggestion.
In short, it was a calculated deception designed to make Roger look good by making me APPEAR to be a weaker biker, and it was frustrating as hell, because I'm the only one in the class who knows how low he keeps his resistance.
I took a couple weeks off and returned again, only to be subject to a similar display of machismo, which involved everybody else in the class being punished for my refusal to obey Roger's command to a tee.
I've really loved spin classes. They've been an important part of my life for almost a year, but I just can't go along with that kind of disrespect.
So, guess what? I just signed up to become a spin instructor on my own. The fuck if I'm gonna let some ego-maniacal, over-compensating pantywaist drive me out of spin culture. I'm gonna start my own OWN spin cult!