Spin spin sugar....

Recently I have been attending spin class at my gym in an attempt to get killer legs but the only thing that I seem to be doing is practically killing myself. I don’t know whether any of you have ever been but seriously – it is the hardest thing that I have ever done and it just doesn’t seem to be getting any easier!

For those of you who haven’t been its basically a 45 minute class where you cycle as hard as you can whilst the instructor plays banging dance music and there are UV lights – as far as I can see it – that is the best thing about the whole class! With zero exaggeration I can only describe the whole thing as painful and totally, totally unpleasant. Its 45 minutes of pain and absolute hell. Now I know that none of you will want to discuss sweating but seriously, I have never sweated this much in my life. I wipe my face and a minute later it’s like a lake of sweat all over again. This has led me to consider purchasing some kind of 90’s stylee sweatband so that I can stop the continuous flow of sweat flowing into my eyes – its totally necessary. The classroom even has paper towels and antiseptic spray so that at the end of the class you can wipe down the droplets of sweat from your bike – trust me – there is just sweat everywhere – its ludicrous!

I cant honestly believe that anyone would enjoy it – you do sets of different exercises and at the end of each one people are practically crying and there are men grunting all over the place. Men grunting in public makes me feel slightly uneasy and often makes me giggle but try giggling when you are so out of breath you are in danger of passing out – its not a good mixture.

And seriously what is up with the instructors? They are always far too peppy and they talk all the way through. It’s like “Shut the hell up – I need silence so that I can well and truly wallow in the agony that I am going through”. The only noise that I am physically capable of making during the 45 minutes of torture is kind of a strangled gurgle of pain as I try and suck air into my lungs. Some times I can manage an anguished groan when I realise that only 10 minutes have passed but these instructors try and encourage us to sing along with the songs! Are they fucking kidding me? I’m just concentrating on staying alive – singing is not high on my list of priorities!

When I first started doing the class it was a genuine concern that I would vomit and there is nowhere to do it – I was looking around desperately panicking and wondering where I could spew without attracting too much attention but there was no facility available. Maybe I should pop that in the suggestion box on reception. I’m sure that it could be easily incorporated. The only problem as I see it is that your feet are strapped in so easy exit is not an option. See – they are keeping you hostage in their Den of Pain by forcing you to secure your feet so that you can’t run when you realise that the class was the worst idea that you have ever had since you thought it would be a splendid idea to wear plastic jewellery.

You may wonder why I continue to go - well basically, its 45 minutes of pain but apparently you can burn up to 600 calories and the way I see it – that is a fair few chocolate bars or cheeky ciders and its just the sacrifice that I am going to have to make. Also, when I am done I can justify eating my body weight in cheese. That’s reason enough.