Puttin' on the Ritz
Yesterday I attended a two hour spin session (a two hour spin session).
It was hot, it was tough, and it seemed way longer than 120 minutes.
This was the brain-child of two of the gym's spin instructors - cute Andy being one of them. "Let's help people out after a fattening holiday meal/weekend!", they concocted. I swear it was like Abu Gharib, but with stationary bikes.....and music.
Jamie, the other instructor, is the Lynndie England of the work-out set. Of the 8-10 spin instructors, she is by far the hardest....or in the top two at the very least. No mercy. No compassion. And I'm guessing more of a core instructor than she is a cyclist. She's the kind of gal who gets off her bike and walks around and tells you that you're not working hard enough. I hate that. ...and not just because I feel like I'm being called-out. More like she has no idea what my limitations might be or my experience in the class.
...and she has horrible taste in music.
Seriously, music really does make or break the spin class. With decent motivational music, you can really make it through any routine. Anymore when I play music at home or in the car, I consider one of two things (or both): Can I spin to this? and/or How can they do this on Glee?
Andy has the best music of all the instructors, but he goes from Lady Gaga to Bon Jovi in a heartbeat. No one can tell if he's truly gay or not. I'm still very split on it and my gaydar is giving up nothing.
So when you team the two up together (Jamie and Andy) you get a really weird mix of songs. Andy was consistent on his choices (I swear, if I have to hear the Black Eyed Peas "I Gotta Feelin'...one more time......). Jamie was in a "jazz" mood. ....though someone needs to tell her playing Bette Midler singing "Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy", Judy Garland's "Get Happy" or something by the Andrews Sisters is not "jazz".
One of her last song choices was Fred Astaire's version of "Puttin' on the Ritz". I guess we could be happy it wasn't Taco.
Now, in the area where I was spinning were two other regulars - and we all are men of a certain age. So while we know of each other, we don't know each other - not really. With no set-up, with not winks or nods before hand, when Mr. Astaire sang: "If you're blue/and you don't know where to go to/why don't you go/where fashion sits....", well, the three of us kind of did the Young Frankenstein response.
Not loud-loud, mind you - but loud enough where we knew all three had done it. Smiles, grins and guffaws all ensued. ...then we had to finish the climb we were doing and sweat and pain replaced the fun, but it was a great momentary distraction.
Now, I can link you to another post of mine - 3.5 years old where I reference this same song, and the Young Frankenstein version used for Clyde & Seymour's Spooky Kooky Castle and my history with that. I won't redo that whole thing here.
I made it through the two hours (one guy left after 15 minutes - what's that about?). My legs were a little rubbery at the end, but I made it. If nothing else, it was a good warm-up to SpinFest II, coming in January. There I'll spin for 120 minutes to raise money for the Cleveland Free Clinic. It's a good cause and I have to spin anyway - so what the hell.
Song by: Frederick Frankenstein & the Monster