Lately, I've been trying to be more active. I'm getting up earlier now that I consistently work early in the morning, and I have been attempting to utilize that time to do something other than marathon watch One Tree Hill until 1:00 in the afternoon.
For those of you who have never been to one of those before, let me paint you a picture of this hell:
You sit, ass on seat for 60 minutes while pedaling, altering your speed and resistance to mock climbing and sprinting. Why anyone would WANT to recreate sprinting up a hill, I'm not sure.
The contraption that you are actually sitting on resembles a torture device with one metal wheel that looks more like the blade on an electric saw, than the wheel of a bicycle. There is a metal bar across the back of the machine helping to stabilize the contraption, keeping it motionless. Again, not only is it recreating sprinting up a hill, but it is doing so without even actually going anywhere.
Next, the instructor comes over to adjust the machine to "fit your body". By this she means wrench the handlebars to far forward to comfortable reach, and so far down that your back is hunched over like a ninety year old woman.
And there you are, all set to pedal your ass off for the next hour.
Oh wait, I forgot to tell you about the oddly shaped seat you you rest your rump on. It has no cushion, instead resembling the general shape of a penis with testicles (I won't even go into the feminist implications this has for female cycling). It also isn't shaped to match the anatomy of your ass, like a negative image or a yin yang: black to white, white to black. It isn't even flat.
It is perfectly designed with bumps lined up to your bumps, curves to your curves, like a jigsaw puzzle with pieces that just don't fit. As each leg lifts, the bulges grinding into your bones.
Lets just say, my crotch was on fire--
and NOT in the good way.
On top of all of this, you are expected to sit, moving leg over leg for 60 grueling minutes, while a peppy blonde up front, with her make up beautifully drawn, and her hair perfectly straightened, cheerily chatters at you to "keep those legs movin'!" without even breaking a sweat every time you slow and take a moment to let the fire on your ass calm down.
I'll just go running next time.
