Spin Class

I started doing spin class a few weeks ago on Mondays. On week number one, I was pretty certain that the Aquatic Center was going to have to call in a surgeon to physically remove the bike seat from my butt... at least that's what I hoped they would do. I don't think I could have outlived the humiliation of a life-light trip with a spin bike sticking out of ye ol' canister. Would have been an awesome visual for the northern part of the Wasatch Range as we flew over though.

On week number two, I was overcome with feelings of strong regret that Chris Farley never lived to see the whole 'Spin Revolution' take place. There is not a doubt in my mind that he could have come up with a wonderful skit that would forever memorialize the true meaning of a fat guy sitting on something more akin to a weapon that an actual seat.

Ooh! even better - Spin Class, the movie! That would've been awesome! I can close my eyes and picture it now... twenty bikes, an incredibly ripped instructor, nineteen "class members" who look as though they were plucked straight from the Tour-de-France, and Chris Farley... the little fat guy who could. That would make my day.

Getting back to reality however. I used to spend an inordinate amount of time on a bike. My bike was the only mode of travel I had for the full two years I spent in Japan. At one point in time, I could go for 30 to 40 miles in a day without breaking a sweat (or significantly increasing the length of the Southern Divide at any rate). All that being said, I don't remember my bike seat ever feeling like a 90-year-old bony fist. Every time the spin instructor yelled, "Out of the saddle!" I wanted to scream, "Tell the saddle to get out of me, and I'll be more than happy to get out of it!"

Oh well. I shouldn't complain. I did this to myself. It's probably a written law of physics somewhere:

"The comfort associated with the feel of a bicycle seat on one's butt is inversely proportional to the ratio of the size of said butt to the size of said seat."

In other words, I'm confident that this is just one of the natural consequences of putting your weight north of the three-bill mark. When you've spent as much time riding a Lazy Boy as I have in the last couple of decades, anything smaller is bound to be uncomfortable.

Hmm. I wonder if anyone has ever thought of making a bike seat that could comfortably help someone like me back into the sport of biking?

Nahhh. Probably not.