Life is good. Even so, as I navigate through the grand buffet of the good life, it can be tricky. Lingering too long can take it's toll. Some choices must be made along the way. In order to stay in the game for the long run, some time must be carved out to take care of ourselves.
As part of the my treat myself better plan, I decided to head to the gym to take in a spinning class. For those of you who have never taken part in such a class, the concept is simple. It starts with a darkened room filled with a bunch of strangers on stationary bikes. Together with these nameless, faceless individuals, you all ride your a—s off, accompanied by extremely loud music. There is typically a gray haired man in full biking regalia at the front of the room shouting commands and words of encouragement into a microphone that is mounted to his face.
It really isn’t so bad and he does try to keep you from going crazy by having you stand up and sit down more times than the attendees at a Catholic wedding. Then of course there are your fellow participants that shout out the occasional Apache war cry or howl at the moon. I am not kidding! They actually do this! I did mention that it was dark. This has a double benefit. The lack of light prevents others from observing the belly roll that has formed as one crouches over the handle bars. It also gives the rider a strange sense of obscurity, and allows everyone to feel free to look and sound ridiculous for the full forty five minute period.
Why would I choose to spend my time staring at a bunch of sweaty back sides bouncing up and down as I hide in the back row? Because I realize that I finally need to do penance for all of the pasta, wine and song that I have enjoyed for the past three decades or so. Now I don’t plan on giving up pasta, wine, or song anytime soon. I’ve been a party girl from way back and though the party ends a little earlier these days, I plan to carry on. However, as I find myself at fifty, I have vowed to turn over a new leaf or two. A few days a week I vow to join the ranks of the peddlers and steppers. I pledge to move this old bod of mine a bit more often as we strut to the oldies, run in circles, climb stairs and ride bikes that go nowhere. Who knows, maybe I’ll even grow to like it.
Probably not.
