Cycling is Not for Everyone

Cycling. Spin class. Death on a stationary bike. It goes by many names.

The first week of May, I was on a mission. I was going to use this month to get in shape for the summer. So I signed up at the local YMCA.

I had a free session with a personal trainer, who, after sizing me up a bit dubiously, was more committed to my goal than I was. The "Six Months to a New You" worksheet in his hand had all of the exercises needed to make a Titan out of me. The first thing he did was slash the "Six Months" part. "This doesn't apply to you. We don't have six months. We don't even have six weeks. Well, let's get started, shall we?"

I gulped, and pushed back the little voice of doubt in the back of my mind. "Let's do this."

After showing me various strengthening exercises, he led me down the steps toward the group fitness rooms. "Have you ever taken a cycling class?" he asked, glancing back to me as we neared the last step. "Nope."

"Today's your lucky day," he pronounced, ushering me into a room full of overzealous, sweating women, whose butts bobbed in unison. "Everyone, this is Marie." The instructor serenely welcomed me while my PT showed me a stationary bike in the corner near the door. "Just do whatever she tells you. Come back up when you're done."

And then he left me.

I started pedaling, trying to imitate the other riders. A minute or so in, the teacher kindly addressed me through the mirror that ran the length of the room, "Have you ever been to a spin class?" "Nope." I admitted, feeling a bit out of my element. A bit taken aback, she assured me that I would do fine, and just do what I was comfortable with.

I still had my PT's challenge ringing in my ears, to "Do whatever she tells you." Minutes later, we were instructed that there are three different kinds of positions when riding. The first (the only I have ever done) is the "resting" position, where your butt rests firmly on the seat. The second is kind of a squatting position, with your arms outstretched, supported by the handlebars.The third is a standing position, with your hands gripping the parallel handlebar.

Our challenge was to move quickly from one position to another, always maintaining control. Well, control was what I didn't have. And as we transitioned from position #2 to #3, I lost it. I had about two seconds of "control" and then my legs gave out entirely. It was as if my entire lower body just disappeared.

This would not have been so bad, had my feet not been strapped onto the pedals. With my feet still spinning in circles, my legs bobbed uselessly (and painfully), my sunken knees grazing the pedals and the bike. I struggled to regain control for what seemed like an eternity, until I was able to forcefully pull myself up by the handlebars. I was rankled and exhausted, however my fiasco was somehow unobserved by the other die-hard spinners.

I persevered. I maintained the "resting" position for the rest of the hour-long class, determined perhaps not to finish well, but at least to finish. We steadily climbed hills, raced downhill at mach-speed, and were congratulated at the end for a "good ride."

Will I ever take up cycling? Perhaps, someday. Now that the swelling and bruising has faded on my knees, my pride is also healing. But, for now, I know that cycling just isn't for me.

Independent Music Plays Here

Today I'd like to highlight some music that has been introduced to me via St. Louis' independent radio station 88.1 KDHX.

88.1 made it to my radio preset after I stumbled upon some great international folk music on a long road trip. I don't have a CD player (or an iPod for that matter), and as I discovered on that trip, my cassette player only plays music by Alvin and the Chipmunks. And so, for the multiple hours that I was travelling, I radio channel surfed. And that's when, about a hundred miles outside of St. Louis, I stumbled upon 88.1's folk program. Over the past five months or so, 88.1 has introduced me to several "new" bands, and I enjoy the independent, and mostly commercial free, feel to it.

In March, I heard the song "I've Got this Friend" by The Civil Wars on my drive into work. I was immediately struck by the initial bounciness of the beat which transitions into deeper, more pining harmonies of the male-female duo.

I was intrigued, and after telling my friend Jamie (a music aficionado, like myself), she found The Civil War's song "Barton Hollow." This one starts off with no upbeat pretense: it is dark, it is brooding, it is intense. And oh-so-wonderful. If you like folksy, pseudo-spiritual, deep Southern music (think KT Tunstall's "Black Horse and the Cherry Tree"), you will absolutely love "Barton Hollow."

"Ain't going back to Barton Hollow. Devil gonna follow me e'er I go. Won't do me no good washing in the river. Can't no preacher man save my soul."

The Civil Wars incorporate haunting harmonies, dark and brooding images, themes of love, loss and elusive redemption.

I first heard Carolina Chocolate Drops/Luminescent Orchestrii's "Knockin" as I was flipping radio stations one morning last month. The bluesy soul was what first stopped me from moving onto the more ordinary radio fare. My hand paused, and then came back to rest on the steering wheel as this song lured me in, with its siren-song lyrics, circular melodies, and dizzying strings. The female vocalist's voice is tantalizing, rich, and sweet, with an almost lazy self-assurance that reminds me of thick molasses on a July day (with some flies buzzing at the window, no doubt).

It's the kind of song that makes you want to take off your hat and stay awhile...maybe forever. In "Knockin'," I hear a tribute to Calypso, that enchantress that literally made animals out of many of Odysseus' shipmates.

"If you come a knockin', baby I don't mind. But if you're not here for lovin', baby don't waste my time."

Happy listening, and, wherever you are, check out your local independent radio stations. You never know what you will find.