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.

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.

Tis The Season For Spreading Cheer, Junk Dusting, and Taint Drying

The parking lot at the gym and the spin class sign up sheets are starting to fill up. Here’s some helpful tips to get the most out of your membership.

Do use the convenient bench in the locker room to rest after your extremely vigorous steamy hot shower workout. A bench! How awesome! Who doesn’t wish the bathroom at home had a place to sit, rest and pull on your socks. It’s pure bliss. Don’t, however, put a towel down. It could be dangerous! Research shows slips and falls cause most injuries. Be safe. Your bare skin allows more grip on the over shellacked bench surface than a thick soft fuzzy gym towel. So, bare-bottom that bench. That way you won’t slide off when putting your man-powder all over your junk. And, if you have extra long old-man berries, just wrap them around the edge of the bench, like a third hand for that Robo-Grip effect.

Do wear bib shorts to spin class, they look pro. To look even more pro, like you’re preparing for the Tour time trial in front of the team bus next to Lance, don’t put the straps over your shoulders. Let them dangle. Bigger folks will appreciate giving that Thanksgiving spare tire room to breath in that hot spin room. If you are particularly hairy, match those oversized bibs with an equally undersized jersey. That way when you bend over to reach the handlebars, you can show off your personal old-growth Arenberg Forest and scenic valley to the lovely ladies behind you.

Do get everything you can out of your workout. Don’t hold anything back. Spin classes with jump intervals are perfect for working out that extra gas you have pent up inside from the double bacon cheeseburger you had for lunch. With the way spin bikes are lined up at the gym, there is no possible way that the person directly behind you will even know you farted. Who me?

Do shower after your workout, but don’t forget to dry EVERYTHING off. There’s nothing worse than walking out to your car in below freezing weather with water left to crystallize on your taint. That’s exactly the reason they put taint dryers in the gym locker room. Use the wall mounted one with the chrome rotating blower to get the general wetness off your lower trunk. Then use the hand held taint wetness eliminator to get those hard to reach places like between your cheeks and under your belly.

Do drink every chance you get. Don’t get dehydrated. Immediately after your 30 minute treadmill run, zip over to the drinking fountain and take a few gulps. You’ve earned it! Don’t worry about the sweat dripping off your forehead, off your arms, down your hands and onto the public bubbler. You seriously could die or go into shock if you take needless time to wipe the perspiration off your body before drinking. (Bubbler is Wisconsin speak for drinking fountain.)

Do stay in the zone. Don’t lose your focus, especially if you need to use the restroom mid-workout. Take care of business as quickly as possible and get back to yoga class or your free-weight session. Don’t take the chance of forgetting which pose or set number you were on. Everyone knows those drips pooling in front of the urinal are from condensation of locker room steam, not because you forgot to shake and dance. No one ever goes barefoot in a locker room anyway. Also know your heart rate could drop while washing your hands. So, get back out there asap! Grab a hold of that yoga block and five pound hand weight and focus-focus-focus.

Do ignore everything I said. Don’t spread your grossness.

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.