After going toe to toe with Rugg and getting my toes smashed, peeled, and dipped in battery acid (as related in my previous post) my cycling ego had suffered some bruising. I needed some reassurance from the Hulk, my brother. This is what he had to say:
"I wouldn't expect to keep pace with Rugg uphill at this point of the year. Wait til you drop the strength training down to 1x a week and start riding crazy intervals, then get some races under your belt. Then hide in the peleton for an hour while Rugg makes breakaways that don't stick. Only then attack him. You never race Rugg alone and uphill. Never!"
I'd committed myself to the cycling equivalent of a land war in Asia. A huge mistake, considering I've spent the past two months sitting in on the only truly no-drop group rides in cycling: spinning class.
Spinning class, I'm told, was invented by "world class cyclist "Johnny G." Goldberg." I'm not sure what world class means in this context, since I and I'm sure the rest of the world has not knowledge of Johnny G. Johnny G. called his proprietary concept, "spinning," and his company "Mad Dogg Athletics, Inc." In doing so, Johnny G. was surely one of the first individuals to use the double consonant D-O-G-G, later popularized by the popular tune "Who Let the Doggs Out," and later to evolve into the dawg of "Snoopy Dawg" fame and Xzibit "yo dawg" meme.
Eventually Webster's spelling of what we associate with canis lupus familiaris will have somewhere around eight consonants separated by an ṏ. But I'm getting off track; dog/dogg/dawg etymology is for another entry.
Here, I'm going to meditate on the joys of spin class.
First, you sit on a massively padded seat. It's definitely not a saddle. Anyhow, it's weird.
Second, you are surrounded by young women. Some of their asses may be in your face. Once, a woman in nothing but a bra stood in front of the spin class for a good twenty minutes. Mind you, it wasn't a sports bra. It had a clasp and there was a visible tag in the back. You may think this is fantastic, but imagine if you will eating a deep fried twinkie while climbing Mt. Weather. Normally liberating, circumstantially enmiserating. That's women in a spin class.
Third, your sweat, which is prodigious and heinous, may fly on some of these women or nearby men. Their sweat may fly on you. This is not nice.
Fourth, you have no idea if this is actually making you faster or slower. Everyone is totally equal and no one is any better than anyone else, no matter how exceptional individuals are. It's the perfect activity for communists.
At some point, I'll have to get out there and do battle. My speed will actually be related to how much power I can put into the pedals, and how fat I am. I'm told that being a completely competitive jerk all year leads to burnout, and that it's best to take things a little slower in the Winter. I guess I'll soon find out.