Buddy the not so friendly spinning instructor.

I went to a spinning class last Monday night that was by far the most difficult spinning class I’ve ever attended. Yet, this morning the first thing I did was call my gym to reserve my spot in the same class, with the same instructor this Monday evening at 7:30 pm. Some may call me a glutton for punishment. I say I like a challenge. Though I kind of wanted to hate the instructor at the end of last class when he fooled us all into thinking our hour of torture was over and then made us do one final hill climb, the fact was that I really liked him and enjoyed the class (despite the fact that it was really really hard).

When I arrived at spinning, the instructor came over and introduced himself (Buddy), since he had never seen me in his class before. He guessed my height to the exact inch and adjusted my bike to fit my 5’6” frame. This friendliness was followed by a warning that the first time in his class hurts. I laughed and admitted that was what I was there for. I mean why else do you go to a spinning class if not to work hard? I’d been to other instructor’s classes at the same gym and I figured how much worse could it really be?

I like spinning classes. They’re fast paced. They play good music. They’re a great workout, and really hard, but give you a feeling of accomplishment when you survive. And, Buddy rather than being surly and yelling at us the whole time seemed like a friendly nurturer the way he helped me set up my bike properly.

If you tell me I can’t do something, my only desire is to show you I can. The instructor’s little warning only made me want to kick his spinning class’s butt even more. Well, he wasn’t lying. I was red as a tomato within the first 10 minutes, and by 30 minutes when your endorphins usually start to kick in and make the rest of the class bearable, we were all just struggling to stay alive.

Several people got off their bikes and left. I considered it, but was frankly just too stubborn to admit to the instructor that he was really kicking my butt. Buddy wasn’t even on his bike most of the time, but running around the room in circles yelling, “PUSH IT HARDER! YOU CAN PUT MORE RESISTANCE ON!” I wish I was joking about this. Then he would stop at each individual bike and give you pointers on your form and encourage you (read: yell) to turn the resistance up a little more.

At one point in the class, he made us turn the resistance up until it was so hard we couldn’t pedal and more and we came to a stop. Then he let us turn it back one full turn and had us climb at that pace for an eternity. Though he did not accept any slacking, and at the time, this was pretty annoying since we were all really exerting ourselves as it was, I appreciated it. The class was really hard, but the instructor (though not quite as nice as he initially seemed) genuinely just wanted us all to get the most out of our hour in his hands that we could. I liked him, I learned a couple ways to get more out of cycling, and I plan to go to his class as often as I can. I don’t think I’d want to hire him as a personal trainer though. I’m not that crazy.