Spin Rage

People irritate me in the gym. Not all the time, but a lot of the time. Am I a bad person? I sometimes want to hurl Kettlebells at people square between the eyes. I swear the steam coming out of my ears in an apoplectic rage fogs up the mirrors.

I exaggerate, of course for effect (cough) but I do get wound up. There are certain types of people who stun me with their idiocy. And to be frank, they put me off my cardio groove. It’s the Spinning class that is currently housing some prize donkeys.

Phones Not 4 U

Why would someone insist on bringing two mobile phones into a class. Spin is not for the faint hearted. It’s hardcore and although the bike may be stationary it shudders and quakes to the point where sometimes you feel you might fall off. A woman last week was on the bike mid class with one phone balanced in the water pocket at the front and one in her hand. YES in her hand. The daft cow actually answered a call in the middle of the class. To my utter delight, when she put the secondary phone back into its nesting place, the shuddering of the bike got so intense both were knocked off, crashing to the floor. To my dismay, neither were broken. Drug dealer or a prostitute, obviously.

Mirror Mirror Not on the Wall

There’s nothing wrong with a bit of mirror-gazing in the middle of a Spin session. We all do it. It’s good to examine one’s body and look at what’s improving, what needs work (lots, usually) – just appreciating the body-in-action. But why stare at the mirror to such an extent that you’re not actually working out at all? So self-consumed that you may as well just be sitting in the changing rooms in your fitness clobber for an hour gazing lovingly at your reflection and then go home? This one woman does this every time, and worst of all, she insists on taking one of the front row bikes which are supposed to be the power seats in the spinning house. Ie: mine. The sight of her pathetic static arse and disturbing narcissism – might I add she was in full troweled-on  make-up – made me want to throw the other woman’s mobile into her spokes and knock the dizzy bitch off.

I could go on, but I think I’d better stop, just in case the class actually read this blog and I’ll be faced with Spin Rage at my next session. And of course, there’s nothing irritating about me. The fact that I often screech Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck meeeeeeee! across the studio floor during the hardcore anaerobic surges isn’t off putting at all.

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