*WARNING EXPLICIT BLOG AHEAD*
Let's start from 10am.....(play the dream sequence sounds in your head)
My boss calls me to say she was "slammed" from a superior because I asked a question to someone in the legal department. Just a simple question to keep the ball rolling on an agreement while my boss was on vacation. But apparently our department isn't supposed to "talk to her". WTF? Seriously?! Is this lady the Queen of England? Ugh. I felt so bad for my boss, even though she is more on the side of "fuck it", but still. I guess that's what happens when I try and keep things moving along.
Anyway, after those shenanigans, I had a pretty normal day. Busy, which I like. And yesterday, my package from Target came. Of course, UPS did not leave it, so I called the number. The lady on the phone says it's at the UPS pick up center (which is located damn near in New Jersey) and I can pick it up. Sweet! Forty-five minutes later (2 bus rides and 10 minutes of waiting for a subway that never came) I get there. Man scans the bar code. Ma'am, your package is on the truck for delivery-they attempted to deliver it at 1:32pm. AAAAHHHHHHHHH! If at this point I could have blown fire out of my mouth like a kick ass dragon, then I would have. For sure. UPS man gives me the "manager's" phone number. I call and I don't lose my cool, but I am straight forward with this manager about my inconvenience. I say "LEAVE THE PACKAGE TOMORROW". Click.
At this point, I wanted to go to a bar and drink. But I didn't, because I was really looking forward to spin class. Plus, I had a reservation with Mr. Schwinn, bike 12.
I rush to class and barely make it by 6:30. People are already warming up as I walk in. I look at Mr. 12, BROKEN. Shoe holder thingy is on the floor, not attached to the pedal. Knob is missing from the seat adjustment part. My water bottle is too big to fit into the holder. And my ass/giny area already hurts. I adjust my seat, reattach my pedal shoe thingy as the instructor watches (not helping), sit in the seat, ow, readjust the seat, sit, ow. Deal with it. Ok, this will be fine.
When we start doing hills, I imagine I'm in France with Lance Armstrong and we are riding the Tour de France course together, cheering each other on over the hills. I also imagine the guy in front of me is Lance, although twas not. People in class are "hooting and hollerin' and woo-hooing". Yeah, this is gonna be good! Ass hurts, but ok.
I need to tighten my shoe thingy. RIP. I break the metal piece. Way to go dummy, but I think it's no big deal, I'm a pedalin'. Instructor says "Pick up the pace, let's go! Double time!! Double time!!" Cycle, Cycle, Cycle, Slip. F&$K! My left foot slips out of the pedal, no big deal, it wasn't bad. I slip my foot back in the broken pedal and realize I can't go too fast without my foot falling out. Fine.
I crank up the resistance and pedal. Woo, I'm pedaling like I'm in the friggin Olympics. Faster and faster then BAM. My left foot comes out and now is dangling while my right foot is still attached and the bike is still spinning. Up and down, up and down I go. My giny bangs the seat a few times. F@*K, OUCH. The instructor comes over and says "Are you ok?". I reply with a "Yes and the pedal thing is broken." He doesn't care. "PEDAL FASTER, LET'S GO!!!!!!!"
Now I am so angry by the hazing I have received from this fucking bike that I contemplate getting off, shoving it, flipping off the class and then walking the f out.
I'm putting my left foot back in the broken pedal, again and I'm angry. And what happens to Morgan Beene when she gets angry, she cries. Yes, I cried in spin class. Not real tears cry, but a pissed off cry. No tears.
I tell myself to suck it up-this totally merits a new bottle of wine for dinner. Meanwhile, I am trying my best and Mr. Awesome Teacher is pointing out the star spinners of the class giving a thumbs up. Fuck off.
Finally 45 minutes later, class is over and I Usain Bolt the fark outta there.
I want to love spin class, I really do. It's a great cardio workout and plus it's friggin' awesome cross training for running. But it's almost as if spin class doesn't want to like me. Terd. Next week I will try it again (somewhere embedded in my bones is perseverance-also embedded: competitiveness). I will need to a. not reserve a jacked up bike, and 2. wear 35 depends on my ass for cushion.
Mr. Schwinn, I will conquer you. Mark. My. Words. I'm coming after you.