If you had told me a year ago that spin would end up being my favorite class, I would’ve said you’re insane. My gosh, the class is hard. It is non-stop cardio for an hour, and my instructor somehow makes it a muscle work out as well. Some days I leave with my shoulders aching. It takes some serious teaching talent for your students to have aching shoulders from riding a stationary bike.
Despite the pain I feel during the class, the strength I feel after it’s over is addicting. I haven’t actually lost any weight. That would require me to change my eating habits and let’s face it… I like my food a little too much to care. For now, feeling empowered and strong is enough.
I wave at Bianca as I walk into the dark room and head to my favorite bike. Bike #12 is my normal stop. It’s on the second row, off to the side, next to the tiny window so there’s the perfect amount of light. Plus, the fan blows directly on me. After half an hour of exercise, this is an important thing.
Standing next to my favorite method of torture, I adjust all the knobs. Raise the seat until it’s hip height. Move the handle bars forward because my arms are short. Situate my water bottle on the right side for easy reach during our rest periods. Step up on my peddles and…
“Good morning, Elena.”
I stare in disbelief as Greg adjusts the bike next to mine. What is he doing here?
“What are you doing here?”
He smirks at me and continues with his set up. “Taking a spin class. What are you doing here?”
So he’s got jokes this morning. “I know you’re taking a spin class, funny guy. Why are you taking the same class I’m taking? It’s a Saturday morning. Don’t you have a meet or something to be at?”
“I came back mid-season, so we’re keeping things like they are until next year.” Like always, his movements are fluid and graceful as he mounts the bike and begins peddling. I look more like a baby panda bear rolling around as I climb up.
Finally situating myself on my seat, I say, “But that doesn’t explain how you ended up in my class. Did you know I’d be here…” I trail off as it hits me.
Callie.
“You asked Callie when my class was, didn’t you?”
His conspiratorial smile is the only answer I need. What a traitor. She and I will be having words the next time I talk to her.
Suddenly, the music begins pumping through the speakers and any further conversation is put on the back burner.
“Good morning, everyone,” Bianca yells in her chipper, slightly accented voice. “I’m glad to see you guys here on a Saturday morning. Are we ready to get started? Get those legs moving.”
For some reason, this class helps my brain clear out. I don’t know if it’s working off all the stress, or what, but I always feel better emotionally after it’s over. That’s one of the reasons I do it three times a week. We’re only in the warm up, but I can already tell I’m gonna need more than one class to push through the irritation I feel.
Ok, that’s not exactly true. I know I should be irritated. Greg broke my heart when he left. I don’t fault him for it. He had to do what was right by his daughter. But finding out he came back the way I did makes me assume I’m an afterthought. I don’t like feeling that way. I want to be a forethought.
Maybe I’m not irritated as much as I’m hurt. I thought the connection we had ran deeper than that. Now I’m questioning all the memories I have from before. Everything feels slightly tainted. But is that a valid feeling or me being irrational? I honestly don’t know.
While we stand up and sit down and go faster and slower, I take the time to sort through all my thoughts. I love Greg. I never stopped loving Greg. But I’m afraid. For as much progress as I’ve made this last year with my feelings of insecurity and self-doubt, I still struggle with my fear of getting hurt again. Is that holding me back from experiencing something wonderful? And is wonderful even worth it if I end up hurting again?
“Let’s add more resistance,” Bianca shouts and I grab the knob, cranking it to the right, as The Weeknd begins serenading me with lyrics about how much I’m worth it. Yeah, I am, I think to myself as I get into my groove.
“Earned It,” the remix version, has become one of my favorite songs in spin. We go slower, but add lots of resistance, working out our quads and glutes until they burn. I probably won’t be able to sit down later because of the amount of effort I’m putting in today, but I refuse to stop. I have too much stress to work out.
Shooting a glance at Greg causes me surprise. The man is dripping sweat and his newly grown stubble is glistening where droplets have gotten stuck. He’s breathing heavy and it’s obvious, he never took a spin class in San Antonio because he can’t seem to keep up. This revelation makes me smile.
Turning back to Bianca, I follow along for the remainder of the hour, sorting through my emotions, working out my stress, and feeling more and more like myself with every passing minute.
“Holy shit,” Greg breathes, as we wipe down our bikes at the end of class. “I forgot how intense this class is.”
It’s my turn to smirk at him. “Looks like you didn’t keep up with your workouts while you were away.”
He laughs. “I did, just not my cardio, apparently.” He tosses his disinfecting wipes into the trash and turns back to me. “Have you thought any more about my dinner offer?”
Avoiding answering, I walk out of the room, him hot on my heels. I wasn’t expecting him to just let me walk away. I knew he’d follow. But I’m still unsure what to do and I’m waiting for some clarity.
“It doesn’t have to be dinner, ya know,” he continues, increasing his pace to catch up and walk next to me. “We could do coffee or just stand in our yards and talk. I’ll bring the Dos Equis.”
I snort a laugh. “I’m sure the neighbors would love to see us standing around in the front yard drinking beer. Should we bring lawn chairs, too, and make it even classier?”
“We’ll pretend it’s a meet-your-new-neighbor thing. Who knows, maybe I’ll finally meet the guy who lives across the street. The one with the ratty car parked on the street?”
“You know he leaves that car there on purpose so no one parks in front of his house, right?”
Greg looks at me incredulously. “Really? He hates his neighbors that much?”
“He hates people in general,” I explain. “I’ve lived there for how many years, and I’ve met him once. And only because he was upset that my trash can didn’t get put away fast enough after garbage pick-up.”
“See? It’ll be good for us to hang out. It’ll show solidarity against the neighborhood bully.”
We stop in front of the treadmills so I can face him. “You’re really determined, aren’t you?” I ask, a flirty smile on my face. I don’t know why I’m suddenly feeling self-assured. I guess having a hot guy tailing you through the gym begging for a date is a confidence booster.
“I really, really am,” he replies, flashing me that dazzling smile.
“Greg! You’re back!” We both whirl around when we hear her voice.
“Hi, Heather,” he says, and immediately shifts his attention back to me.
Heather. I’ve seen the leggy blond burning up the treadmill almost every time I’ve been here for the last year. For the most part, I’ve ignored her. There’s been no reason to feel any ill will. But hearing her flirty voice directed at Greg while he’s in the middle of a conversation with me grates on my nerves.
“We’ve missed you around here,” she tries again.
He, however, doesn’t even glance her direction, keeping his eyes trained on me, when he says, “I’ve missed being here.”
That moment, combined with what can only be described as jealousy, works in his favor.
“The girls are with James this weekend, so I’m free tonight.” I turn and saunter toward the locker room. “Don’t forget the wine,” I call over my shoulder.
With that, I put a little extra sway in my hips, knowing he’s loving watching me leave.