Spin Spun and Spanked

SPIN, SPUN, and SPANKED
The twin sirens of Dana and Tracey finally cajoled me into a spin class at Lifestyles, on outer Warren Avenue in Portland. I attended this past Sunday’s class and the following is my impressions of that momentous athletic event.
For the price of two Geary’s summer ales at Forest Gardens, you get a day pass into Lifetsyles, and access to the arcane world of spinning. The twin sirens tried their best to convince the desk attendant to let me in for free: you know, first time guest, etc. The desk attendant was about to do so, until I mentioned that I knew the owner, was a category one professional cyclist, and to get him over the edge, was the new spin instructor. What ensued was not pretty; let’s just say I haven’t experienced this much tension since the Cuban Missile Crisis. The attendant finally agreed to sell me a day pass, after I apologized. He did, however, hand me a free towel. It was the size of a loincloth, appeared to be used, and I was forced to give it up as I was leaving Lifestyles; once again an apology was involved, and with this exit incident I was on my own, Dana and Tracey had already left.
After the unexpected encounter with the admissions folks, my hosts, Dana and Tracey, then had us do some sort of performance art work. We all three had our backs to a hallway wall, and then pretended to sit down on an imaginary bench. This was a timed event. We were so convincing that another gym member, after apparently spending much too much time on a treadmill, proceeded to join us, and promptly hit the ground. Another apology was involved, and I had another stressful encounter with the desk attendant. I recommend this performance art work next be performed at Forest Gardens; after a doble of summer ale. The barkeep at Forest will be much more understanding should there be any misunderstandings. I have yet to say "I’m Sorry" at the Forest Gardens, no matter what I might have done.
My prior concept of a spin class are the Coach Troy/SPINeRVALS VCR tapes I’ve played in my basement while astride my old aluminum Trek, positioned on a trainer. Coach Troy is merciless on these tapes with his endless attempts to get me out of the saddle. I don’t have the most ideal set up in this basement My Trek attached to the trainer is not the most stable exercise device. On a couple of impressionable occasions I have ridden the Trek right off of the trainer and found myself zooming thru my basement into a concrete foundation, with Coach Troy sounding off another five minute out-of-saddle interval. The other memorable occasion was when the entire unit flipped over while I was peddling out-of-the-saddle. Trek bike, trainer, and me still on bike, all on our sides, me still making peddling motions; once again Coach Troy took no notice, and Coach Troy could be heard in the background, while I was trying to extricate myself from the overturned mess. On many occasions, Ruth would hear me emerge from the basements depths, puzzled as to why I repeating the Sgt Bilko refrain, "Make the bad man stop."
Our bad man, er coach, was "Paul". Paul is a rider I have encountered on various road rides in the Portland area. Paul is a good person in real life, but let me explain. I rode the Trek Across Maine this past June with an out of state rider whose favorite riding verb was "to spank"; for example, "We spanked that hill" or, worst still, "I spanked you on that hill". I thought it was wonderfully descriptive.
Spinning is a lot like spanking, and Paul is the spanker, and we are his spankees: try these conjugations, I got spanked, she got spanked, we got spanked, they got spanked.
During this spanking/spinning you will encounter the following;
1. The bike units will not topple over, and there is no way the bike will suddenly careen away into the mirrored walls. These things are solid and you can get out of the saddle with the utmost confidence.
2. The entire session was performed with lights off, in semi- dark and utter anonymity. Coach Paul tried to convince us on many occasions that we weren’t adjusting the tension knobs enough. If I couldn’t see him in the dim light, I figured he couldn’t see me. He had the burden of proof on this one, and I am innocent, until proven guilty. I know my spin bike law. Anyways, let him try to ID me from that crowd. I blended right into that mix of 18 females and three males. But who’s counting.
3. The bike monster had more moving adjustable parts than my 20 speed, dura ace, compact crank, Madone outdoor bike. I’m bringing a tool kit next time, and my home mechanic repair stand. I’m tooling and customizing that baby, and starting at least 24 hours in advance of class. Kris Clark promises to help me; you know, a pit crew member.
4. The disco lights, while not used, lent a real ambience to the spin room: this was further heightened by the mirrored walls. If I hadn’t been sweating so much, I could have convinced myself I was dining and dancing in the great room of a Portland western promenade mansion.
5. How to describe the music? About 40 minutes into the 45 minute session I determined that the music alternated, every other minute, between energetic, hard energy music, and down tempo lethargic recovery dirge. One particularly memorable musical interlude had Rammstein style German heavy metal, over laid with someone whistling the theme music to Mayberry R.F.D. I know that this is improbable and was most likely a result of hallucinations brought on by my exceeding my prior record of time spent on a biking apparatus indoors.
6. The electric floor fan. God bless Dana. She commandeered the most revered object in that spin room, the large floor fan. She set it up like she owned it, and placed it right beside our spin units. Pure genius. I would have given up the spin bike for that floor fan; if forced to choose. I would have run in place, in the semi dark, and forced Coach Paul to prove, beyond a reasonable doubt, that I was not on a spin bike during the spinning class. Remember, Coach, I know my spin bike law. No fan, then the law of the jungle applies, spin that Guns N Roses side about living in the jungle.
7. Post spin you are encouraged to stretch, with lights on, and drape various parts of your body across the spin bike frame. At one point the ankle/feet of one of my legs were suspended over the handle bars of the spin bike. What resulted required my personally apologizing to every member of the spin class as they were leaving.


As I was exiting the Lifestyles park lot, I kept repeating that old Sgt Bilko line, "Make the bad man stop." But was the bad man "Paul", or that unforgiving desk attendant? Heck, though, I’ll be back. I like pain, I ride road bikes. Must admit, no apologies needed on a road bike outdoors; well, not as many.
Join me next week when Dana and Tracey take me to a yoga class; this time they get me in the building without a day pass, via a side exit door. The side door, however, is near the weight training area, and some muscle men with grotesque biceps deeply resent my intrusions. More apologizes, and this time a visit to the Maine Medical Center is in order. Oh well, yoga would have been fun. Next time I’ll pay for the day pass, cheaper than ER at Maine Medical.

© 2007 R B Boisvert