Spin Class Heroes

Before spin classes, cycling was a beautiful sport.  Even the most football hardened couch potato takes  pause at the sight of a multi-colored peloton passing through the field of sunflowers in a Graham Watson photo.  Personally, I love the middle of bike races, the boring part.  I hold my breath watching the flow of riders funneling through a corner.  I marvel at the grace of a perfectly executed crosswind echelon.  Watching people in spin class is akin to watching a Key West sidewalk contortionist.  Look away!  But, you can't.  

I've seen people do jumping jacks in Cincinnati's Eden Park.  There's no better way to look like a gold-chain-loving red velour-jumpsuit-wearing doofus than to do jumping jacks in public.  As they say on the SNL skit, “Oooh Weee!  What Up Wit Dat?”  Even though you may not have a penchant for white high-top Adidas and perms, some people who wear chamois and have SPD compatible shoes are putting spinning at risk of a border war with real cycling.  A line must be drawn.  

No longer can I hold it in.  Like the classic jams I hear in spin class, I'm calling you out...Spin Class Heroes:

MC Hammer

It makes me want to say, “Pssst.  She’s talking to you.”  Without pointing fingers, between describing the next interval and advising us to grab a drink, the spin instructor kindly said, “If you’re bobbing up and down on the saddle, you need to put on more resistance.”  Now I’m no medical expert, but seriously, dropping that kind of hinder hammer has to be one easy way to turn your junk into junk.  I used to wonder why spin bikes were made out of square steel bars.  Not anymore.  I understand the thick saddles too.  They’re not for your comfort; it’s to cushion the poor bike from getting a Kardashian sized butt whoopin'.  Please Hammer.  Don’t hurt ‘em.

Ray Charles

Maybe this is what happens when MC Hammer finally settles down, the pent up energy has to get out.  Like some sort of seismic reaction, she rocks back and forth as if spinning to a sped up version of “Hit The Road Jack.”  Please!  No more, no more, no more, no more.  

The Dazz Band

Let it whip girl!  You got the sassy sweaty band and you're gonna rock that pony tail!  Her head flicks around, half Night at the Roxbury, half night at a Five Finger Death Punch concert.  Left, right!  Up, down!  With precisely timed jumps and corresponding neck twitches it can spin concentric circles that'd make Indiana Jones wish he could whip like that.  

Devo

Are we not men?  No, you're a guy who tucks his shirt in his bike shorts.  You may look and feel like your young, but your outfit is screaming grandpa to all the lovely ladies in the spin room.  Let go of the past, let go off the office, let go of 1982...for goodness sake let go of your shirt.  Here's two reason's to not tuck in your shirt: it hides your gut and keeps you from double offending as a Naked Cowboy.

The Fiddler
The Devil went down to Georgia, but she got side tracked adjusting the straps on the toe clips every 2 minutes.  Then she went to fill up her water bottle, right after she stopped to adjust her pony tail band.  Right when you think she's going to settle in for the next 3 minute interval, with remarkable dexterity, because she doesn't want to have to re-do her toe straps for the fifth time, she reaches down for her phone on top of her backpack and twiddles a text.  Nothing can hold her concentration.  She's not even in spin class.  Her Facebook status already reads, "1 hour spin done, off to Nordstrom!

The Cowboy

The Cowboy spent all his money on the gym membership, Sidi spinning shoes and the Beemer in the parking lot.  Unfortunately, there wasn't a penny left over to complete the high roller image with a new pair of shorts.  Also unfortunately for you, he took the spin bike in front of you offering an hour long unobstructed view of one of nature's magic wonders, the grand canyon clouded in a thin layer of thread bare spandex.  It may play on the streets on NYC, but I'm not throwing any tips at his feet.

Facebook Friday: What Song Makes You Hammer?

I fear purgatory, at least, for some of my readers.  What the hell.  Certainly I shouldn’t be the one with plastic rummage sale devil horns zip tied to my helmet.  Pure evil, but I kind of like it.  The fear of death motivates us all and it sort of shows.  It’s Facebook Friday on The Best Bike Blog Ever*.  During the week we ask our Facebook likers and followers a question and post the comments on the blog.  Like us here and join us next week.  This week’s question came via FB message from fan Jerry.  He asked:

You have your Ipod jammin' in the last mile of a Time Trial or Big MTB race. What song has to come on to motivate you to hammer even harder?

The Best Bike Blog Ever

The Subways “Oh Yeah” (pictured above)

Butch

ButDethklok “Thunderhorse”

Tim

Anthrax “Milk (Ode to Billy)”

Bridget

Joan Jett “Bad Reputation”

Geoff

Metallica “Death Magnetic - My Apocalypse”

James

Cyndi Lauper "Time After Time"

I go lactic every time I hear it.

Leesa

Toots and the Maytals “Pressure Drop”

At the "24 Hours of Moab"- playing over the loud speaker just as the sun was setting on the last mile or so. A speedy downhill straightaway into the hand-off tent...Not so much hammering harder, but just a free and exhilerated feeling!


Jerome

Foo Fighters "Learn to Fly"

Scott

Dropkick Murphys “Flannigan’s Ball”

Christopher

LL Cool J “Phenomenon”

Andrew

Nothing but the sound of my pulse reverberating through my eyeballs.

James (again)
Ever notice you feel like a winner while listening to Rick Astley?  I do.

Bridget (with the reply we were all hoping for)

@James- I think Cyndi Lauper & Rick Astley had a child and you are the result.

Ryan

Foo Fighters “Best of You”

This song came on in the last mile of Ironman Florida and I could run that mile harder than anything else I had done that day.


Lance

The Clash “Hateful”

Kim

Jeff Beck “Rosebud”

This tune kicks ass!  I find it very inspirational!!

Jerry (Today’s FB Friday was his idea.  Thanks Jer!)

Nine Inch Nails "Hand That Feeds"

Just try turning under 100 RPMs. A must for the warm up routine or trainer rides.

Jaden

Stone Temple Pilots

I always look forward to them coming up on the playlist.

Corey

Ministry "Jesus Built My Hotrod"

Due Ore Il Trainer

Deux heures sur le formateur. That’s “two hours on the trainer,” in French according to Google translate. 2 hours on the trainer is a long time, long enough to wonder what “two hours on the trainer” also sounds like in Italian: due ore il trainer. Ooh that’s pretty. Thank you web capable phone. Well that killed 5 minutes. Can’t do that while riding down the street. So went my two hour spin in the garage yesterday. I did intervals, entertainment intervals. It started with15 minutes of IPod and Let’s Make a Deal. After the IPod died, which always seems to happen when extreme boredom arises, I switched to an hour of stage 5 of the 2006 Tour De France on DVD. When I got sick of fast forwarding through the Smiling Bob commercials on OLN, I kept it steady with a 15 minutes of white death Cincinnati snow coverage on the 5 O’clock News followed by 15 minutes of callers complaining about unplowed streets on the radio. Thoughts entered and left my mind. Unable to hang onto any one for any length of time, I started to think what two hours on the trainer actually does for a cyclist: burning 1000-1200 calories, losing some fat, developing a stronger endurance base…blah, blah, blah. As I spun, I surmised two boring hours on the trainer may make you more mentally tough, even tough enough to survive:

The 2nd hour of The Biggest Loser.

A telecast of a PGA golf game without Tiger Woods.

The wait for sunrise during a mountain snowstorm forced bivouac.

A company wide conference call with an uptight CEO that speaks broken English.

The dull straight drive between Gary and Indianapolis, Indiana.

A movie with the chatty chat sisters behind you.

Going to three grocery stores in a row on a warm sunny Saturday afternoon.

The middle seat, without a book, headphones or IPod, on the flight from LA to Hawaii.

The unruly two year old doing jumping jacks in the restaurant booth behind you.

A spin class with a fartus eruptus.

Listening to others bitch about their job that you know nothing about.

C-span.

When a phone call to ask a simple question turns into a marathon conversation.

The last seven entries on The Best Bike Blog Ever.

New Years Spin Bike Ball Drop

There was no confetti, no horns, no cheers and no kisses for the New Years ball drop I witnessed. “F**k,” however, was shouted out quite loudly. Witnessing it, all I could think was, “oh dude, oh, ouch.” He hit the floor. Next thing you know. Shortly grabbed his nutsack and crumpled into the fetal position. New Years brings the newbies to the gym. While I can’t entirely fault the newb for the ball drop, being a newb certainly contributed to the forceful redistribution of the family jewels Sunday at spin class.

It was 8 degrees outside yesterday. Inside the spin room, the thermostat registered a sweaty 90 degrees. Due to the cold and the resolutions, the class was full with a waiting list a few people deep. As the class got underway spinning our heart rates up toward 75%, 2-3 stragglers trickled in. Like gophers popping their heads out of their holes, they strained their necks to locate the 2-3 open spin bikes. Only one bike had the toe straps allowing the rider to spin in running shoes. So, after some do-see-do quiet discussion between the stragglers, each found a bike to match their footwear and mounted up.

Normally before you get on a spin bike, you adjust the seat and handlebars to fit your body and riding style. Normally. Well that’s what you’d do if you’ve been to at least one spin class before. If you haven’t, like jumping on any normal bike, you’d just get on, especially a beefy bike made out of 2x2 inch steel bars and a stainless 40 pound weight for a wheel. Some may even see it like a car and assume that the seat is adjustable in some fashion, but maybe not assume that the steering wheel or, in this case, handlebars are also adjustable. That’s usually a luxury option.

Being late to class, the newb walked up to the bike, caddy corner from me, put his foot on the pedal, grabbed the bars and swung a leg over. The handlebars gave way. They weren't attached, just barely sitting in the top of the tube by about a half inch, not tightened on in any way. The guy, now in slow motion, pretty much spread eagle, came crashing down, with his full weight, nuts on tension adjuster knob and his lower abdomen squarely lanced by the 2x2 steel square hole where the handlebars are attached. “Oh!” I exclaimed as if it were my own nuts. It was hard to look at. With his hands still in a firm grip on the bars, he curled on the floor. ““F**K!” He shouted pushing himself away. The room gasped, shocked. My mouth hung open. Quickly, another gentleman, obviously someone he came to class with, helped him to his feet and out of the room. The instructor followed. He, or his companion, never returned to class. I’m not sure if he was okay or not. I certainly hope he’s only bruised, not broken, and one day comes back to the gym to shrug it off.

UPDATE: I have heard that Big Johnson and the Cashews are doing fine.

I Heart Bobs

I’d rather be at a convention of lunatic evangelists, Brazilian soccer announcers and carpet pitchmen from Dalton, GA than have a Jillian as a personal trainer or fitness class instructor. So, ten seconds into the commercial break during The Biggest Loser, when asked the question of Bob or Jillian, I blurted an emphatic Bob.

I’m a Bob. For me exercise, particularly cycling, is an escape. Secondly, cycling is a sport where a cool head prevails. The last thing I need is a reverberating car dealership announcer screaming in my ear, playing make-believe dominatrix drill instructor and preaching the fire and brimstone of a sedentary lifestyle in my ear. Maybe that plays well on TV, but the last time I checked there weren’t camera people and a network producer in my gym. I’ll ride with a Bob, sign up for a personal training session with a Bob or take a spin class with a Bob any day over a Jillian. Having a Bob is more or less like paying a well respected athletic friend to promise to meet you for a ride and show you the way. That’s all I need. I can do the rest.

Jillians encompass the three personalities I dislike most: the smarmy salesperson, a preacher in disguise, and the blithering know-it-all expert. I want to put my ear buds in and crank up my I-pod volume just thinking about having a Jillian standing over my sit-ups, or in my team radio earpiece during a bike race. Types like Jillian are the reason I never go back to certain stores. Bob’s make me a loyal customer. So, I like Bob.

The more I think about it, The Biggest Loser cast the parts perfectly. For TV, Bob’s with their silent expectations and low-key demeanor aren’t too exciting to watch for two hours. Put a Bob in a room with a Jillian, tie them with a thread of common interest, and you’ve got drama. Thing is, I don’t need drama in my fitness. I can give myself a kick in the pants. I know how hard I have to work to do well in races. I know I looked a little chunky in that holiday photo. Seriously, I made my Aunt Take four photos. Moreover, I enjoy it. Like a tasty wave and a cool buzz, a good workout and good music and I am fine.

That’s why Bob’s are great. Bob’s get ya. They know you don’t need the hard-sell. You’re already in the store. Bob’s point you in the right direction and know there’s more to exercising than losing weight. Bob’s share your appreciation for the intricacies of the sport, and understand you’re there for peace of mind as much as the workout. Bob’s let you ask the questions, well knowing you did your research and likely know a lot already. He’s quietly confident you’ll make a good decision and make the sale. Like a used car salesman, Jillian’s think it was a miracle that you came to the store in the first place, she desperately can’t lose you and will stand in your way gushing about this and that till you just give in. Jillian’s think being louder, projecting a larger image and theoretically backing you into a corner is the only way to get through. It’s as if there were no difference between personal training at a gym and training a puppy. Jillian’s wish there were a human shocker collar. Zap! Harder! Zap! One more!

Bob’s know not to preach to the choir. It’s no secret, your here for fitness goals, all you need is a little tweak to get the most of out your workout. Keep your knees in. You’re going to have to hit this hill hard. Jillian’s give you the impression that the choir may be possessed. If Jillian pauses for a moment, you’ll be off your spin bike, eating pizza and downgrading your USAC license from a 3 to a 4. Therefore the gospel of exercise must be instilled upon thee at every possible moment. Dare a sheep stray from the flock. Ten more! C’mon! Don’t let that lunch turn into a spare tire! Puh-lease.

This just in. People who exercise and do sports aren’t necessarily interested in the latest JAMA study about the effect of stress on the effective metabolic rates of Portuguese lab monkeys. Spare me the doctorate dissertation. I get it Jillian. You’re a fitness expert. And, that’s why you’re on TV. However, it’s not what I’d like to have hoarsely shouted in my ear when my heart rate is at 85%. Bob’s understand that people exercise to relieve stress, not get stressed out by over zealous militant gym rats.

However, there is a place for Jillian’s. The reason is evident in her popularity on The Biggest Loser. While I’m somewhat of an athlete watching the show, there are millions more sedentary than I that need a minor explosion in their life to motivate them. The sad truth is most people need a Jillian. For those that have already seen the ways of exercise and sport, we don’t need our chamois set on fire, a perspiring pistol whipping, coupled with a reading of the holy fitness bible according to Saint Knowitall. We just need some good music and a Bob to tell us where we’re going today.

The Spin Session F.A.R.T. Protocol

By guest blogger Corey Green of Cincinnati (edited by The Best Bike Blog Ever*)

As a reader of the Best Bike Blog Ever, the post "Who Poofed in the Peloton" brought tears to my eyes. I didn't realize that the tears would reappear days later. This time, however, they weren’t tears of laughter but the type of wincing tears you’d get from say finding a cat poo outside the litter box or when a train full of sulfur derails in your front yard.

Starting with the fall time change, my circle of cycling buddies has a tradition to ride indoors, a group ride on trainers, a static peloton of sorts, whatever you want to call it. The nine of us 9 to 5ers gather in a dark room thundering with classic rock (Skynryd!), teeming with cyclocross smack talk and reeking of the type of sweaty man funk that can only be achieved through a full day of work and intervals in a musty basement. That mental image alone is enough to urk up a tiny puke. The other night’s “incident” would’ve sent the Discovery Channel’s Dirty Jobs host, Mike Rowe, crying for his mama.
The term "poof" brings a mental image. It’s soft and fluffy and, while offending, usually floats right by. When a “poof” is preceded by the word "repeat," the peloton gets a little testy. Now add in the word "indoor" with the phrase and you’ll get the full scratch-and-sniff picture. I’m talking about the "indoor repeat poofer." That’s ground for dirty tactics like a towel in the spokes or a non-invite to the next static peloton session.
Masking your poof may be easy in a peloton, as the cone of poof probability provides a certain level of protection. The cone does not exist in indoor cycling be it in basements, garages or spin classes. You poof indoors and guys can track it down like a bloodhound on bacon. So, indoor cycling has certain protocols that must be heeded when you are at risk of poofing on your mates. Take note potential poofers, they are as follows:

Fans: This should be self explanatory. However some make the wrong choice. If you are in a high poofing risk category, use your fan as your assistant. Point it AWAY from the group. In a spin class, position yourself so the fan does not broadcast the poof to the pack.

Action: Frequent poofing typically foreshadows that something needs to be done. We know you really want to get in the full workout, but the beauty of indoor riding is that no one gets dropped. Take the necessary action.

Rank: As a potential serial poofer, know your place amongst the ranks. Don't sit in the front and force those behind you to partake in your magic. Fall in near the door. While you may find it humorous, a mutiny won't help your bike power.

Transmit: A little heads up, courtesy, warning, notice, alarm, proclamation or declaration that you could be "a little rumbly" can improve your lot. We all are more congenial to the person that gives us warning instead of fogging us unexpectedly. In fact, you might find the guys suggesting ways to keep it to yourself.

These rules, collectively known as the FART protocol, also apply to indoor spin sessions at your local fitness club. The attractive lady spinning next to you probably won't hang out and chat if she has had to endure the secondhand sauerkraut you found delicious at the downtown hotdog cart.

Goodbye Spin Class, Hello Real Bike Rider...the latest in indoor cycling training

For as low as $19.95 per month (not including optional cranks, chain and flywheel) you can get the latest in winter cycling indoor core training technology. Presenting, “The Real Bike Rider,” as unseen on TV, or You Tube for that matter. That’s right! Improve your balance, core strength, criterium and mountain bike handling skills and train for the vertigo of cycling’s most challenging descents in the off season all in the privacy of your own home and at half the cost of a Real Ryder spin bike that's being shamelessly marketed to cyclists everywhere. It’s part spin bike, part abdominizer, part cute little horsey. The amazing Real Bike Rider bolts easily to your workout room floor with a hammer drill and four six inch galvanized steel bolts with lock washers. Get a portable base and use it in the living room or in the break room over lunch at work. Perfect and safe for all ages. Although, a helmet is highly recommended.

Use it outside. Its wrought iron construction is completely impervious to the elements and guaranteed to last through a nuclear winter. Execute turns, uphills and downhills just like you were riding an actual Real Ryder spin bike for a fraction of the cost all while remaining warm and indoors. Use it in front of the TV and make believe you’re in the pro peloton as you swing out wide and launch a blistering attack on your adversaries.

Act now and we wont even give you your very own Sham Wow and Snuggie! You following me camera guy? As seen on TV, the Sham Wow chamois soaks up something like 40 times its weight in sweat and the Snuggie will keep you warm and comfy in the basement. So now you can grunt it out for hours without worrying about damaging your fine hardwood floors with sweat or getting the post-ride chills.

But wait! There’s more! How ‘bout we throw in the optional cranks, chain, flywheel and a set of ergonomic handlebar grips for free? An unbelieveable value. Still not satisfied? Well act now and we’ll double your order for free. That’s right; you’ll get two Real Bike Riders for the price of one. Now, you can ride side by side with your spouse, teammates and friends all for the low low price of just $19.95 per month till you realize what a buffoon you’d be if you actually trained on one of these. Here’s how to order. Call 800-555-Ride. That’s 800-555-r-i-d-e. Once again, 800-555-ride. Some assembly and tools required. Offer not available in Alaska, Hawaii, Puerto Rico or anywhere for that matter. The Real Bike Rider is not really for sale. Any resemblance to an actual exercise related product like the one on the video link here is purely coincidental. Restrictions apply. See comments of previous blog article for details.

American Idle Workout

You got a suspected doper, a loudmouth who calls out all your faults, a skinny guy who tries to hold the group together and a guy who’s uses worn out phrases in every vocalization….pothole dawg.  It’s a typical breakaway group.  Tuesday night I’m riding with Paula, Randy, Simon and Ryan.  It’s the American Idol 2009 premiere and your chance to be more active than the billion or so real American idles who’ll watch the show growing a root in the sofa under a trough full of raspberry chocolate chip delight.  Below is a spinning trainer workout I’ve painstakingly created in 14.2 seconds that you can do on a bicycle trainer, a treadmill, elliptical or any other fitness apparatus you can stick in front of the TV.  It’s a two hour show, so mix it up if the thought of two hours on a bike trainer makes you urk up a puke.  Do an hour and fifteen minutes on the bike and a 45 minute run.  Print it off, take it to the gym, give it to your spinning instructor or bring it to your home torture chamber Tuesday night.  I tried to make it winter/spring friendly, meaning its more strength and endurance based.

SET-UP WARM UP

No doubt the first 5-10 minutes of the American Idol Season 8 Premiere before the first commercial break will relive past Idol shows, total train wreck performances and setting up where they are filming now blah-blah-blah.  Start spinning or walking and ramp yourself into a nice endurance type effort.  Take this pace into the first commercial break.

COMMERCIAL BREAK/PROMO PUSH

During commercials drop the tempo down to recovery mode, but get ready.  When the Fox promos come on (commercials that tease upcoming FOX shows and the local nightly newscast) up the tempo to 80 percent.  Chances are you’ll get nice little 3 minute recovery followed by a 20-60 second hard effort tempo intervals in every break, kind of like coming to the front of the paceline.  Be aware and pay attention, sometimes they’ll run commercials, a promo, another commercial and more promos. 

IDOL ENDURANCE

When the show comes back on, endure the show in endurance mode, a 75% effort, with the below exceptions.   

DAWG-STUPID-SLAM INTERVALS

During the show, whenever Randy says “dawg,” Paula says something stupid that sounds Vicadin induced, or Simon slams someone; you’re down for a 30 second hard tempo effort.  Just like during the commercial break promos, think of a turn at the front of the paceline or running over a little riser on your neighborhood run.  These are most likely to occur during judging.  If that’s the case, they could add up, so start your hard effort after the last judge is done speaking.  You could be down for up to a one and a half minute effort.  For example, when the singer really does actually sing well and Randy says, “yo dawg that was so money and you don’t even know it,” you’re in for 30 seconds.  Then Paula might say sniffling “you make me weep…you…are what this competition is all about.”  Now you’re in for a full minute, as long as Simon agrees.

TOKEN DUFUS DEATH MARCH

No doubt some time during Idol they’ll play cuts of some numb nut with something barely identifiable as a song spewing from their word hole.  When they play, you pay.  For the duration of the dufus, you’re up and out of the saddle in a big hill climbing gear or, if you’re on a treadmill, change the angle to “death march” mode.  Be aware that a Token Dufus might be followed by a quip from one of the judges.  If that’s the case, you might be cranking up the effort during the last part of that death march.

RECAP COOL DOWN

Probably with about 10 minutes left in the show, they’ll take a look back, replay the highlights, and tease the next episode.  You’re day is done at the 1:50 mark, cool down.