Rise and Ride: Getting There is Half the Fun!

Waking up at 6 a.m. to burn 600 calories on a stationary bike is a hill you should not want to climb.

You know that feeling you have when it’s about 9 pm on a Sunday night and you feel fantastic. You’re relaxed from a stress-free weekend and have as much positive energy as a kid on his way to an undiscovered playground. Your mind is whirring at a steady pace but because it’s late, you make big plans for tomorrow instead of tonight.

While getting ready for bed, you and all your energy together decide to up the wattage and wake-up for the 6:30 a.m. hour-long spin class the next morning. You commit to it. There is nothing that could possibly stop you from going to that class, because you feel so damn good right now. You’re cruising comfortably and you go to sleep motivated and with a smile on your face because you are the best.

The next morning, although you were expecting it, the six a.m. mountain comes around too fast and is significantly more daunting now that it’s before you. The 8-hour flat course up to this point went by so fast it’s like you didn’t even rest. And what the hell happened to all that energy you had last night? Is it possible that sleeping actually expends energy instead of refreshing your supply? Your brain has no capacity to contemplate this paradox and so you hit the snooze button again, momentarily obscuring the view of the mountain.

Six fifteen and your mind is gearing up all possible excuses not to go to this class, to justify closing your eyes and succumbing to your 600 thread count, goose down comforter. But your mind misses a gear and somehow your guilt makes a pass on the right and you’re in the bathroom by six eighteen. Has it always been this cold in here? Freezing in your sports bra and panties you brush your teeth, staring at your haggard face in the mirror. Is this what being healthy looks like, you ask yourself. Your brain grunts, turns over and doesn’t respond.

But your triumph over getting out of bed gives you confidence. You begin to relax a bit, enjoying the momentum behind you. Knowing you’re ahead, you ease up a little and let your mind’s RPMs slowly decrease. Although dressed, all of a sudden you’re back underneath the covers with your eyes closed and your mind blank. Just resting. Just for a second.

Six-twenty-four and the horns and cheers of the alarm go off again jolting you back into the race. You muster all of your energy. Although you’ve done this climb before, you always severely underestimate the effort required. The air feels colder now than it did six minutes ago. Each second that passes becomes more and more agonizing. Painstakingly you push the right leg out of the covers and down to the floor, followed by the left, up then down, trying desperately to keep your movements under control. The process is so demanding that it feels like you’re going in slow motion. Almost there, you throw everything you’ve got into it, rip the covers off your body, and grunt out the front door.

Once out in the fresh air and past the point of no return, you sprint the entire route and arrive at the gym at only + 3 minutes.

You enter the already sweaty room, grab a towel and fall into line at the back of group in an effort to hide your tardiness. Through the mirrored front wall you catch the group’s disapproving glances but you don’t care because you had a solid performance in the earlier stages of this race and are proud of your comeback.

But however smug you are, you can’t help noticing that the pedals on each bike in the room are already turning in a circular motion, at least 100 RPM’s. Even your worn-out mind notices that something is not right here. You force your eyes and mind to finally work together and take a good look around the class.

That’s right – the class is jam packed full of superhuman early bird pedal machines, now increasing speed to a minimum of 110 RPMS. You, it seems, will be left behind at 0 RPM’s this particular morning.

Defeated, you exit the class, head bowed in shame and slowly head toward the main gym.

A clock catches your eye on the back wall of the gym and suddenly a finish line materializes itself in your mind. Now very alert, you sprint towards that finish line, significantly faster than your original route.

You cross that finish line into your apartment at exactly 6:47. Given the time it would have taken you to shower and get ready had you actually participated in the class, you justify that you would be late for work regardless. You throw your gear to the ground, reset your alarm for 7:45 and settle in for your recovery.

Race Time: 47 minutes (Personal Best).
Distance: 0.6 kms
Calories Burned: 25 of 600.
Current Status: Alive, at least until tomorrow’s race.