Sunday, February 20, 2011

Evil Knight Rider

The cycles we ride in spin class are like snowflakes. Each are unique. A "10", the highest resistance at which you can still make the pedals move is a different turn of the hand dial for each cycle. Sometimes a "10" is when the crank is at twelve O'clock. Sometimes its closer to 2:30. But its usually somewhere in between the two.

Today I got to spin class late, and had to take a cycle I was unfamiliar with. I spent my warm up attempting to find "10" versus "5" (the feeling of a flat road). I was a bit puzzled. Usually "5" is somewhere near 6 o'clock. Today, 5 was at 4 o'clock and 10 seemed to be near 8 o'clock. This is a smaller range than I'm used to, but i figured it wouldn't be a problem.

Then the class started, and my difficulties increased. I'd dial in to what i thought was a "7" and find my self struggling against what felt like a "9". I'd try to turn it back down only to find myself at "2" (problematic, because at anything less than 5, you feel like you're about to fall off the bike). I kept turning the dial, thinking I'd found the right resistance only to feel it increasing within moments. I'd try to dial it back, but what had been a lazy "4" earlier was at least a "7" now. What was happening?

I stared down at my black cycle, with its red dials and silver wheels. I could hear the voice of K.I.T.T. (the car from Knight Rider). "You call this a workout?" I tried to mentally convince KITT-Cycle that we would work our way up to a "10" eventually, but we didn't need to start there. KITT-Cycle did not believe me.

Instead of helping me to fight crime like KITT the Car, KITT-Cycle was pure evil.

Thursday, February 3, 2011

Wouldn't it be nice

Sometimes you think about what the world would be like if things were a little different. What if we lived forever? What there were no more wars? What if people could fly.

Today on the drive home, I decided the world would be a much better place if we could hear it when other people told us "F You."

Driving in Michigan, I often find myself using some form of the F word about my fellow drivers. Sometimes its a verb, sometimes a noun, sometimes a gerund. But it all boils down to--you are doing something stupid, potentially dangerous, and I'm perceiving it as harmful to me. Please stop.

Imagine it, you're driving in the left lane going 10 under the limit, with your right blinker on for the last 15 miles, a little spaced out as you weave within the lane. Suddenly, you hear a chorus of other drivers, using colorful language to alert you to you mistake. You'd get over a few lanes, turn off the blinker, drive the speed limit and pay attention to the world around you.

Wouldn't it be nice?

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

In Spin Class....

"Really push now! Its the end of the Race. Imagine yourself fighting for the lead!" Yells the instructor.

I have a vision of Lance Armstrong hovering on the cycle next to me, with the biker shorts, yellow jersey, helmet and all. We're both covered in sweat, neck and neck.

"And I only have one testicle" faux-Armstrong says.

"Oh yeah? Well I've got a pair of steel ovaries," I pant as I cross the finish line and win by a nose.

And almost fell off my cycle when it was time to stretch.