Matt* seemed like a really nice person. He grabbed the bike beside you in spin and you guessed that during the winter he would occasionally be mistaken for Santa. Gentle white beard and hair, jolly posture, and a smile. You were a bit tired; you had given up some sleep this weekend for more play. He said something about being there because of the bad things he ate over the weekend; you mentioned a cheeseburger. You both laughed.
The spin instructor is a substitute. She's wearing a West Point sweatshirt.
The music started.
It was a short warm-up today but you were okay with that because your legs felt like lead. (You would later change your mind as you moved into the three-minutes "on" and three minutes "off" section of the class. Hello, West Point?!)
A song plays during the three minute break. Matt asks you about the band; you say "Santana" and you think as the younger, you're educating him a bit. He says "That is correct," and your stomach drops for no particular reason.
Work set. "Do you feel that cheeseburger now?", he asked.
Work set. "Never let them see you sweat."
Work set. A series of "Who is this band?" and you don't know anymore if the sweat is from the bike or the barrage of questions which is starting to feel like an oral exam. (You have a flashback to Materials class.)
You start glancing at the clock a little more often and wonder if you will make it.
You waver on The Beatles to close things out but you manage a smile and back slowly away on the stretches.
Today's Spin lesson: Don't judge a book by its cover (unless they are in fact wearing West Point, because you will hurt a little.)
*Matt is not his real name but it rhymes with bike.
No comments:
Post a Comment