Last night, as I watched my clock slowly tick away the minutes after 6:00 (the time I was supposed to have headed out of the office and over to the gym) while four of my co-workers had an in-depth discussion over letterhead that I just haddddd to be part of, I started loosing my motivation for 400s.
When I finally left work (30 minutes later than I had anticipated, and 1.5 hours later than most NORMAL people…who don’t schedule meetings for 5:00 and then start them at 5:30 and then let them run well past 6) I toyed with the idea of just hopping on the subway home and enjoying a relaxing evening in front of my Christmas tree before social norms demand that I take it down. My feet however, veered me away from the Times Square subway hub and toward the gym.
I did not have nearly as much time to dedicate to running before the 7:00 spin class I wanted to repeat, but I hopped on anyway to see what I could knock out. I had just enough time to do a few 400s at a 7:30 pace with 9:05 recovery laps–a wee bit faster than the night before, but still probably not maxing out to my full potential. Again, I wanted to have enough juice to power through the sweatfest that is a cycle class.
The cool part about my current spin schedule is that in the now 4 classes I’ve done over the last few weeks, each one has been at a completely different time, on a different day and in two different gyms. This means that each one has a different instructor with their own unique style of making you sweat. While I have found some that I favor over others, it’s really nice to go into a class a) not knowing what to expect and b) knowing that even if your butt is in the same “saddle” you’ll have a different ride than last time. Yes, that was nerdy to the max, I realize this.
Last night’s instructor was all smiles (always a plus) and introduced a lot of different moves on top of the same old hill climbs. She had us jumping in and out and over our seats for 2, 4 and 8 beat intervals, doing inverted V’s as far as intensity and speed go and all sorts of other stuff. It was challenging, and it helped the time tick away very quickly.
After class I scurried home to scarf down some leftover split pea soup for dinner with the JD, and spent the rest of my evening stabbing myself in the cuticle with needles and crying over my lack of domestic skill, while making this beau:
The JDs sister recently introduced me to the procrastinors heaven that is Pinterest, where I have become a little obsessed with the DIY/Crafts pages. I am not crafty or artsy at all, but I’d like to be, so I spend a lot of those draggingly boring work hours stalking how to blow glass and make baskets out of birdseed. Most of the projects seem way beyond my anti-Martha [Stewart] capabilities, but this little guy seemed feasible–the major “tools” involved were a pair of scissors, a tie, buttons, needle and thread and an old Chobani yogurt container (which you knows I’ve got plenty of). Any who, as we all already knew from my sad attempts at sewing happiness into capes for kids, I don’t work well with a needle and thread. So up close this guy looks a little rough. But from a distance, it’s a lovely little addition to my ensemble (yes, I’m wearing it today) and with a little practice (and more tie-swiping from the JD) perhaps I’ll improve and then everyone will want one and I’ll make millions.