I was up pretty early this morning, bursting with energy. Please don’t hate me for saying that, because there are plenty of days when getting out of bed is all I can muster. I wanted to get my sweat on this morning (Yeah, I know what you’re thinking, but that wasn’t going to happen), so I headed to the gym; Spin class started at 9:15 A.M.
"How many of you are new to my class? The very cute and perky instructor asked as she perused the room looking for unfamiliar faces. A woman sitting on a bike off to the corner shyly raised her hand. “How many of you are new to Spin?” The instructor asked the room full of eager, beaver Spinners. The same woman raised her hand again. Every head in class, including mine, turned and stared at this woman; she was in fact an anomoly. My thoughts raced: “Good God! She’s a VIRGIN Spinner!” I don’t about you, but whenever I get the chance to use the word virgin in a sentence, I jump at it. Think about it...using the word virgin doesn’t happen very often, does it?
The music started and we Spinning veterans knew what to expect: One full hour of heart-pounding, head-to-toe body drenched in sweat, legs pumping, glutes screaming, stomach turning (no I didn’t say this was a orgy) hell. The newbee Spinner didn't know what to expect. How could she? She was a VIRGIN. Sure, she could live vicariously through people she’d known that had attended a Spin class and lived to tell the tale, but she herself had never done the Spinning deed. I wanted to reach out to her and pleadingly ask, “Oh virgin Spinner do you know what you signed up for this morning?”
Throughout the hour long class I found myself looking over at her, grasping for a read on how she was doing while her proverbial cherry was getting popped. She was panting and sweating; her hips pumped rhythmically to the music and she was transitioning from one position to the next. She was a doing great. Once the class was over, I walked over to her and personally congratulated on her rite of passage. I felt so proud!
"How many of you are new to my class? The very cute and perky instructor asked as she perused the room looking for unfamiliar faces. A woman sitting on a bike off to the corner shyly raised her hand. “How many of you are new to Spin?” The instructor asked the room full of eager, beaver Spinners. The same woman raised her hand again. Every head in class, including mine, turned and stared at this woman; she was in fact an anomoly. My thoughts raced: “Good God! She’s a VIRGIN Spinner!” I don’t about you, but whenever I get the chance to use the word virgin in a sentence, I jump at it. Think about it...using the word virgin doesn’t happen very often, does it?
The music started and we Spinning veterans knew what to expect: One full hour of heart-pounding, head-to-toe body drenched in sweat, legs pumping, glutes screaming, stomach turning (no I didn’t say this was a orgy) hell. The newbee Spinner didn't know what to expect. How could she? She was a VIRGIN. Sure, she could live vicariously through people she’d known that had attended a Spin class and lived to tell the tale, but she herself had never done the Spinning deed. I wanted to reach out to her and pleadingly ask, “Oh virgin Spinner do you know what you signed up for this morning?”
Throughout the hour long class I found myself looking over at her, grasping for a read on how she was doing while her proverbial cherry was getting popped. She was panting and sweating; her hips pumped rhythmically to the music and she was transitioning from one position to the next. She was a doing great. Once the class was over, I walked over to her and personally congratulated on her rite of passage. I felt so proud!
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