I think I have fallen out of love with spinning. I made it back to my Friday morning class today and before my feet hit the pedals, I was dreading it. Every song, every hill, every sprint I hated. It's a good workout. A very good one. I certainly don't push myself to those limits when running. Am I just copping out? Getting lazy?
I have a theory. I discovered cycling class in February. It was shortly after I had started therapy, put the kids in school, dismissed the marriage and began my job search. It was an intense time and spinning was an intense distraction. For a fifty minute stretch, I could barely breathe, let alone lament the many difficulties in my life. A couple of months into my addiction, I connected the dots and saw that I was spinning my wheels yet going nowhere in more ways than one. So I tried running. I didn't like it, but I gave it more effort than before. And then my life started moving too. I think you get the picture.
So now that I can enjoy a decent run and so many other things are moving along swiftly and fabulously, do I really need to hop in Hot Red Speed three times a week to be abused by the cute girl with the thighs of titanium? Well, maybe I'll cut back. Cold turkey seems awfully harsh.