Spin class: loved, hated, feared and respected all at the same time. A "fitness fad" that is truly here to stay, spin takes you on an emotional roller coaster that is even more drastic than the imaginary hills you climb during class. Whether it's the 500 calories burned in a 50-minute period, a friend who drags you there, or actual self-hate, something keeps us all going back.
Spin is marked by five very distinct stages, taking you on the ride of your life (literally) every time you hop onto that personally adjusted and extremely uncomfortable seat. These stages are (in)formally known as the five stages of spin class, and having taken Intro to Psych in college, I would consider myself an expert on this theory: so listen up.
1. Denial and Isolation
This will be a quick and easy workout, I'll be out of here in no time.
The natural first reaction to entering a spin class is to deny the situation. You walk in sporting your cute workout clothes and a huge water bottle, confident that you are the goddess of fitness. Spin? Please. How hard is pedaling a stationary bike--right? This is a normal reaction to rationalize the terror that is spin class, obviously used as a defense mechanism to buffer the shock that comes with already sweating from the WARMUP.
You block out the words/signs that you're about to endure 50 minutes of pain and hide from the facts: this class is about to kick your a**.
2. Anger
If my grandma heard what I whisper-screamed to my spin instructor during class she would be so disappointed in me.
As the masking effects of denial and isolation begin to wear, and you endure your first climb, reality and its pain re-emerge. You ARE NOT ready to to turn your cadence up three turns. Don't even think about asking me to "push myself."
The intense emotion is deflected from your vulnerable core, redirected and expressed instead as anger. The anger may be aimed at yourself, your spin instructor, or the perky spin-goers surrounding you. Rationally, you know the instructor is not to be blamed. Emotionally, however, at this point, if the instructor encourages you to give out a "WOOO!," she's getting a cycling shoe straight to the face.
3. Bargaining
20 more minutes of class and I can have that cookie dough sitting in the back of my fridge.
The normal reaction to feelings of helplessness and vulnerability in spin class is often a need to regain control--some may choose to secretly turn down the cadence when the instructor tells them to turn it up. Others might walk out of the room to "get more water," but really their butt just needed a break from sitting on the bike.
Secretly, you may make a deal with God or your higher power, promising that if the next song is not a sprint you'll be less of a b**ch to your co-workers tomorrow. The sad fact is that these bargains are empty, half because of course the next song is a sprint--and half because we all know you're going to continue stealing Lindsay's yogurt from the fridge (sry lindz).
This is a weaker line of defense to protect us from the painful reality -- Depression.
4. Depression
I can't go on. I can't do it.
This stage of spin class occurs in most spinners about halfway through class. You take stock of yourself: dripping from sweat in places you didn't know your body had sweat glands, chugging water from your water bottle like you just got back from a trip through the Sahara. This isn't pretty. This is raw. This is spin.
Signs of this stage of spin may include checking the time to see if the cool-down is soon, trying to concentrate on the music so you forget you're actually working out, and considering quietly leaving the class--28 minutes is a good enough workout, right?
5. Acceptance
BRING ON THE ENDORPHINS.
Reaching this stage of spin class is a true gift. This phase is marked by the calm post-ride cool-down and the Beyonce-like feelings that set in after a spin class. Making it through spin is ultimately a deeply personal and singular experience--no one can burn off the "secret" McFlurry you had yesterday on your drive home for you, you gotta do that for yourself.
The best thing you can do in your post-spin glow is look back on your past 50 minutes and acknowledge how much you've grown as a fitness queen, take pride in your sweat-soaked shirt, and remind yourself how much you actually love getting your a** handed to you by a very high energy and tiny spin instructor.
Ooh 50-minute spin with Danielle next Monday? I'M SO IN.
...And so the cycle continues.
