What an impact! The amazing effect of Spinning.

Along with many others, I have made my annual donation to the bank account of a local gym. This year, as last, I am determined that my payment will not be a donation, but an advance payment for more than one hundred life-enhancing, health-giving visits.

Brimming with New Year enthusiasm, I booked myself in for Spinning.

I had a broad understanding of the concept, a group class, with everyone on specially designed exercise bikes, cycling hard and fast to loud music. Being at the “so fat you should be dead” end of the Body Mass Index, I took the precaution of booking a beginner’s class. The wife came along, I suspect to administer CPR if required.

The instructor was sweet. She took the time to ensure that we were correctly setup on the bikes.

“It takes practice. You probably won’t be able to stand on the pedals today, but you will get used to it. Just do what you can.”

She eyed me with a combination of fear and concern. Quite probably, she checked her liability insurance.

I did try to stand a few times; after all I used to stand on my pedals as a kid. On each occasion, I managed to suddenly stop the wheels turning and jar my back. Ultimately, I elected to remain sitting, varying the resistance as instructed by the little Miss Positive over her radio mike.

When not exclusively focused on trying to breathe, I concocted multiple scenarios where Police were mystified as to how the gym trainer had died in such cruel and unusual ways.

After thirty minutes, I stood on legs made of marshmallow, making half-hearted efforts to stretch various bits of my anatomy, while trying to find a dry bit of t shirt with which to wipe the sweat from my eyes.

As I thanked the torturer, our eyes met, both of us certain that we would never meet again.

Mrs L had enjoyed things no more than I. Curiously, she could stand, it was the sitting on the saddle that, quite literally, was the biggest pain for her.

We drove home, making plans for a late supper. Once there, I needed to get something from the garage, so the dog and I went out of the back door and pushed open the metal up and over garage door. I believe that my heart rate was returning to normal.

As my body recovered from the unexpected assault of the class, I felt the familiar tightness in my abdomen. Pleased that I was in the sanctuary of the garage and could escape the approbation of Mrs L, I leaned slightly to the left.


The garage door shook on its bearings, the dog fainted and I am almost certain that a platoon of infantry exercising on Salisbury Plain dived for cover.

Nobody had mentioned that effect of spinning in the brochure.

I resuscitated the dog and went back into the house. Mrs L eyed me with suspicion.

“So, going to Spinning next week?”

“No, love. It makes me fart.”