Still While Moving
The room is dark, the mirrors are fogged, and a choreographed tempo that allows me to ‘bike to the beat’, becomes my second pulse. Only a few short minutes in and I feel as though I am untouchable. A sequence of pushing, pedaling, standing, and sprinting. A consistent rhythm of what spin instructors call, ‘figure eights’, ‘motorcycles’, ‘hovers’ and ‘tap backs’. A series of small weighted repetitions and muscle building exercises fuel adrenaline through the room. The pride that radiates from the instructor is contagious and every rider in the room feels it. Forty-something of us come together to ride as a community, but to work individually through our own journey.
We approach the last remaining moments of class. I am exhausted and my heart feels like it might literally burst from my chest and run away from my body, but I am liberated, and I am flying. My endorphins release a feeling that only this 60-minute class has ever let me experience. I don’t want to stop, I don’t want to slow down, but I am tired and starting to question if I can keep going. The instructor stops directing, turns the low lit blue lights down, making the room feel a little darker, and simply encourages us to let the music move us. We are free to do whatever we feel for the remaining 3 minutes of our ride.
Shortly into those remaining moments, I am consumed for only a few seconds by the memory of a time when my life was darker than this spin room. The memory is vivid. I dig deeper within myself with each stroke, and I pursue the uphill climb of resistance on my wheel. I become overwhelmed with a feeling of resilience. It is as though someone is speaking to me subtly in the background, repeating, “accept your past; you’re here because of it.” The fast dripping, ever evolving beads of sweat that race down my body but don’t quite seem to fall off from my limbs fast enough, are a metaphor for my past. These countless drops that exude through every pore, to the surface of me, show only a small portion of what this class gives me strength to release.
My eyes well up with tears; Still while moving. The question of stopping is forgotten. The determination of persevering takes the handlebars and is invigorating, and those last 3 powerful moments reign supreme.
My physical breakthroughs in the saddle room are admirable, but it is my mental breakthroughs that bring me to the climax each and every time I ride that bike. At the end of every class I have reached my summit knowing, but accepting I still have many more to conquer. I leave with a fierce feeling of gratitude, so great I truly embody it to the ~ core of my being ~
I took my first spin class almost seven years ago. I had no experience, little confidence, a lot of brokenness, and no true understanding for what my body could potentially do and no awareness of the value of connecting my mind, body and soul. Ironically, the only thing motivating me to take that first class was this dysfunctional idea of what my body should look like and a screwed up habit of tearing myself down. I never thought about the internal benefits and I never thought it would guide me through the motions of embracing my whole self, inside and out.
The structure of the class schedule is what got me involved, but the constant mental and emotional self-discovering experience is what has kept me. I found myself through something that forces me out of my comfort zone, and challenges me mentally, physically and emotionally. I’ve come to terms that in order for me to rebuild myself stronger, I had to accept that something was broken to begin with. In this class I am not a victim to my past, I am only the momentum towards my future. I am thankful for finding the cycling community. I am stronger because of it and am constantly in competition with me versus me every day because of it.
