MURRAY — My darling wife questioned my sanity when I told her I had signed up for a three-hour spinning class.
Ninety minutes into my adventure in personal endurance, my legs joined her.
Fortunately, it was shortly thereafter my body and mind stopped communicating with each other. Adrenaline took over and my body, while still an active participant in the workout, was simply going along for the ride.
The remaining 90 minutes was relatively easy. Just listening to the music, trying to keep up with the instructor's directions and hydrating as often as possible.
That's the quick and easy story. The entire story is a lot longer.
Several months ago, my family and I moved back to the Salt Lake City area after five years in Idaho. Those five years were spent doing virtually no exercise other than chasing a handful of toddlers and young kids around the house.
I was far from overweight. But my wife let me know the love handles were gradually becoming a visible part of my body. And when I had a hard time catching my children as they gleefully ran away from me, I knew I needed some help.
My wife and I decided we'd attack our physical fitness problem together. Shortly after the new year began, we took advantage of the class offerings at the Murray Park Center and began attending a studio class focusing on a total body workout together.
Knowing I needed a good cardio workout, I decided to supplement my regimen by subjecting myself to 60 minutes of spinning.
I didn't want — or need — to shed a lot pounds. I simply wanted to feel better when I woke up in the mornings and have the energy raising three preschoolers and a preteen requires.
For the unfamiliar — as I pretty much was three months ago — spinning is a high-intensity stationary bike ride in a class setting. An instructor, accompanied by a soundtrack of music ranging anywhere from Abba to Enya to Rammstein, keeps the class motivated and pushing the limits as sprints, hills and mountainous climbs are built into the workout.
While the rider can always control the intensity and level of resistance, the instructor is always there asking you to turn it up a notch. Only in the world of spinning do mountains have no backside. My father, who allegedly walked to school five miles each day — uphill both ways — would have felt a familiar ring to the constant climb on the imaginary mountains that never seem to come back down.
I've gradually increased my spinning consumption from once a week to thrice-weekly exercises in self punishment. And I've grown addicted to it.
So, when I saw the flier on the Park Center doors inviting me to sign up for the 180-minute test, I figured it'd be a worthwhile way to spend a morning.
Saturday, I entered the spinning studio armed with a three bottles of Gatorade, two Cliff Bars and a less-than-ideal six hours of sleep after having stayed up late working. Still, I'd been attending spinning classes for about three months and I hadn't felt so alive in several years.
The recently arrived spring weather figures to take many of the regular spinners from the studio to the roads and trails. The group joining me during my first extended workout reflected that. Rather than the 15-plus I often ride with during my regular classes, only 12 — including the instructors — were in the studio at 7:30 a.m. when the music started pumping and our legs started spinning.
Unlike recreational bike riding, there is no coasting in a spinning studio. There flywheel doesn't stop and your feet and legs become one with the machine. The speed and resistance are, admittedly, adjustable, but unless you dismount the bike or apply the breaks, there is no stopping. For 180 minutes we let our legs carry us.
There were no breaks, no rest periods and no leisurely strolls along a scenic river trail.
Based on an estimated 100 pedal strokes per minute, we each put in approximately 20,000 rotations. We were told our ride would have been at least 50 miles had we been outside.
I'll confess to turning the resistance down a little bit as we entered the third hour. My legs, after a few years of inattention, are not yet ready for full exertion over a three-hour span. But when Mariah, our pint-size drill sergeant during the third-hour, shut things down for a cool down and stretch with a few minutes left on our clock as is usual during the regular 60-minute classes, I — and a few others — kept on pedalling.
I'd signed up for a three-hour ride and putting in two hours and 57 minutes wasn't good enough.
We each polished off the ride and counted down the final seconds before the three hours had officially passed.
I hadn't worked out that long and that hard for early 15 years — since I worked at an exercise equipment manufacturer as a quality control tester during college — and my legs felt a little rubbery as I dismounted my bike.
Yet I felt great — almost high.
After years of relative inactivity, my body had forgotten the positive feelings that come with strenuous exercise.
Spinning has brought it back. The first time I stepped into the studio and hopped into the saddle, I knew this was a workout I wasn't quite ready for. My backside hurt. My legs ached. I was out of wind.
Still, I walked out of that studio feeling surprisingly refreshed and alive.
I knew I had to go back again.
When I first considered spinning as an exercise program I did so not wanting — nor needing — to shed a lot of pounds. I simply wanted to wake up each morning feeling prepared and capable of meeting each day's challenges. I've achieved that and more.
Spinning, like many exercise programs, has an addictive quality. It also takes a little getting used to.
It takes a few rides before your backside gets used to being in the saddle. Your legs can feel rather weak when you're done riding. But the euphoria is real.
Two days after finishing that three-hour spin, my legs still felt the effects of 20,000 pedal strokes, 50 miles and 180 minutes of work.
But I returned to the studio Monday morning looking forward to the ride.
And, I think, I'll be joining the crew when the next three-hour spin is scheduled.
E-mail: jeborn@desnews.com