Spin/Cycle class

Today I did my first ever spin class...hell on two wheels and two pedals. I consciously strapped myself in and sat on a 'saddle' that reminded me of stages of giving birth, and locked in for a treat of the torturous variety. The instructor must be on speed, she'd come straight from a pump or step class (what they involve exactly I know not, because I attempted step once and fell off said step in the first five minutes of the class) and continued to treat us like we were all in an all female military butt fat rendering and obliterating boot camp. I nearly puked afterward. I can now feel my lungs again, three hours later. Why do things that are good for you so often have to be so goddam bad? Having said that, I am frisking proud of myself for even attempting to channel Cadel Evans and give the so-called mountain climb a crack, albeit for 30 seconds, but those 30 seconds were enlightening. My quadriceps will be thanking me (intact they are, I can hear them burning messages of love via lactic acid as I write) and I now have a newfound respect for Mr Evans and his chunky toned Quads...