Spinning... or spiral of death?

Two nights ago I went to an indoor cycling (spinning) class at my new gym with my beau. Knowing I have always seen these classes packed to the brim, we got there 15 mins early to stake out a good bike. Of course, it was almost already full, and only bikes near the front of the room were available. I immediately felt like the awkward, nose picking kid at the dance standing alone at Homecoming. Cliques, husband and wife pairs, and those really intense chicks with biceps larger then oranges adorned the standing bikes. What had I gotten myself into?

The lights go down, music starts pumping and now it really feels like a school dance except my ass is KILLING me from the hard seat I resting my tailbone on. I looked around to see if anyone else looks as uncomfortable as me... NOPE. Not a butt pad in sight. Soon as I get home I am so Googling the price of those doughnut bike seats. First song comes on, a Rascall Flats remake of "Life is a Highway."  Rascall is my fav, so I am stoked. About halfway through the rapid beat of the song and multiple spinning positions, I realize that this is no school dance. 

Apparently, one can sprint on a bike. I am hoping that the harder and faster I push to the rhythm the better chances I have of breaking the bike and being able to exit without the embarrassment of quitting. No cigar. 

"Give me a quarter-turn!" announces the devil disguised as a class instructor. I put my hand on the resistance knob and make it look as if I turn it, I don't. This goes on and off for an entire hour... dark, bumping club music and class attendees yelling out random "WAHOOOs." I continue to spin, silent and maybe a little slower then the regulars. Who has enough breath to even vocalize ANYTHING, yet alone yell??

The day after spinning I wake up and get ready to go teach. I think, wow, I am not even sore from the debacle that was spinning class. Get to school, sit down at the overhead to do morning sentences with the kids, and BAM. The classroom chair is now my mortal enemy. I can't even sit down on the hard, plastic surface. I proceed to stand up to continue my lesson and a student says to me "Miss A, I can't see. Your head is in the way." RUDE. If he only knew. Isn't empathy part of the California mandated curriculum? Apparently not. Thanks Arnold. 

How much are those doughnuts again? I think I may grab one, sit on it and drink a Dr. Pepper. Cheers. 

-AA