Spinning out of control

I (would like to think) that I am a very "When in Rome" / "If you can't beat 'em, join 'em" type of gal. I believe that when you are a coach's wife, you will move 15-20 times over the course of 35-40 years, so you kind of have to be. Or it helps the acclimation at least. So when we moved to College Station, Texas, 4 years ago I jumped on board with everything and acted like the Aggie I would become. I went to midnight yell, chanting in the middle of the night, and swayed with the war hymn like a crazy person. I wore maroon even though we all know that REALLY wasn't my color. I searched high and low for cute clothes in the "right" maroon, because a touch off and you're in purple or OU red.

So I decided after about 10 days in Weston, Florida, that I am going to need to step up my game a little bit. I think you can look at this one of two ways: I am a conformist who will go along with anyone, jump off any bridge you tell me to, and follow all the latest crazes and trends because the cool girl is doing it. Or, I move all the time, and the best way to throw yourself into something new is to try new things and be open to all kinds of change. It's probably a little bit of both of those things.

One of the main focuses of every day for me is working out, so this seemed like a good place for me to start with something new. If I don't get my endorphins, my best friends, family, and especially my husband know I am not the most pleasant person to be around. So I tried the class "Pump It" right when I joined the YMCA, hoping it would be similar to a class I enjoyed in Texas called Body Pump. About 5 minutes in I knew this class was not for me! The woman was teaching the class half in Spanish, it was a lot of ab work (I make it a strong rule of mine to do the least ab workouts I possibly can), and it seemed almost every single gal in the class was Spanish, and did their hair in lots of braids. I wasn't fitting in. I only lasted halfway through.

Today was a new day. I decided I was going to try spin class. I haven't done a spin class since college. I am feeling older just as I type this, but that was SIX years ago. Yikes. When working out in a gym, I tend to do the same workout every day, which is walk on an incline or run at a very slow pace, so slow I might as well be walking. This works for me and I can usually read my US weekly at the same time, therefore catching up on celebrity gossip while toning my buns. Win win! But there's something to be said for going out of one's comfort zone, so I decided to enter the world of tiny slim bikes with tinier slimmer people atop them.

When I entered a nice middle aged woman who could clearly tell I was new helped me to adjust the bike so that it would be the right height and such. A quick glance around and I decided if this was going to be my new thing, I would need some new workout clothes. I was in very butch black workout shorts and a huge Old Navy heathered v-neck, my typical workout gear that allows me to go unnoticed. All the spin women were in high-end bike shorts and tanks, brightly colored and very fitted. It looked like an ad for ClubMed. They were all very tan and had cute towels hanging on their bikes, most reminiscent of old vacations with words like "Caribbean" strewn across the bottom in cursive.

I was very out of my element, but this class was going to be a little harder to sneak out of, so I saddled up on the bike and began to pedal.

Before the light went off (is this only Miami Spinning? The entire class was done in the dark, though I am unconvinced that the instructor didn't just shut the lights off so that everyone didn't have to look at me struggle for 55 minutes) I noticed that this class had a certain air about it. The women in this class were likely named Mitzi, or they had friends named Mitzi. They probably had a toy poodle and even a purse he fit in so they could bring him on their flights and to the grocery and even nail appointments. Speaking of nail appointments, they were the type who got the flower on the thumb for manicures. They probably slept in something lacy and short, and they owned lots of Juicy Couture velour suits with rhinestones on them. One of them even probably had rhinestones on the butt with something like Mrs. Jones that they wore their wedding weekend. Their husbands convinced them to go to Cigar Bars on the weekends, and when they weren't doing that, they were wearing wedges and probably a very cool romper from Bebe and drinking things like SkinnyGirl Sangria or white wine spritzers.

Let me give you an indication of what I'm working with. I'm the kind of girl who clogs the toilet at the fancy party and has to turn the water off, leave the bathroom locked to sneak out the window and reappear at the front door, claiming I "needed some air" (this has never happened to me or anyone I know, just hypothetical obvi). I'm the kind of girl who can't wear the color gray because I get pit stains from sweating. I eat A LOT chocolate in bed and usually end up washing and changing my sheets because I got food on them, not because I have a sheet washing schedule (though I do think this would be something good for me). I never floss because it hurts and I rarely groom at all. Ok now I'm being a little extreme, I do put on moisturizer and blush about twice a week. My husband is one lucky man dontcha think?

Still, despite all my shortcomings, 55 minutes after the spinning madness began, I was a sweaty mess on top of a very slim bike, and I actually kind of liked the change up in my workout. Drenched in sweat, I was hoping the teacher could just keep the lights off while I slipped out of class and raced to get my little boy before anyone noticed. No such luck, I thought, as she flipped them on and all the Mitzi's toweled off around me and planned lunch dates at places called Fountain Plaza. Meanwhile, I got off the bike with the grace of a first-time cowboy hopping off a horse and hobbled over to the cleaning solution to begin to desanitize my area, otherwise known as sweat city.

My friend who helped me get set up on the bike complimented my first class, though maybe she was just being nice because I looked like I was about to pass out. Despite the fact that I do not look the park, I actually kind of liked spinning, and think I might make the Friday class part of my routine. You can now call me BigMamaMitzi!

*One more thing, if you're a man and you're reading this, you must be my husband, or very very bored. But if you do spin class and you wear those teeny tiny shorts, please make sure everything is in position before you do all kinds of stretches in front of me. I do not want to see anything I didn't sign up to see. Especially so early in the morning and without any of my sarcastic friends next to me to make fun of you. Thanks so much.