Aerobiking: less to do with chocolate and more to do with pain.

In an attempt to get myself out of my gym rut and in my eternal quest for a six pack that doesn’t contain beer (although I would accept one of those right now) last night I went to an aerobiking class. Aerobiking turns out to be just another name for spin class, which is another name for come and cycle until you hurt like hell. I had no idea that cycling could be so varied, we did sitty down cycling and standing up cycling and then bent over the handlebars cycling, sprinting cycling and climbing hill cycling, and even going-really-slow-so-your-abs-hurt cycling. In addition to this I also did wheezing, sweating, drinking my whole bottle of water in ten minutes, dying, looking imploringly at the instructor, sneaky resistance reducing, and a host of other activities not entirely related to cycling. I should have twigged it was gonna be tough when the instructor told us to make sure our feet were strapped to the peddles so tightly that we couldn’t take them off.

Aerobiking: expectation and reality.
Aerobiking: expectation and reality.

After this morning’s gym session (it was most certainly any-weights-that-can-be-done-sitting-down day) I, in a fit of what can only be called madness, signed up to next week’s class. Did I mention I can barely move today?

Although this looks like a very damning report on aerobiking I would strongly recommend it. I’d really forgotten what hard cardio is like since I stopped playing team sports, I just wasn’t getting anywhere close to the level of pain I felt in the class when on my own in the gym. I think it may become a weekly occurrence, to shake my gym routines up a bit!

I didn’t really mean for this to be an entirely gym related post… ummm…. oh well. I’ll do another one when I have more to say!

Emily x

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