Day 1 of 100 Days of Classes: Cyc Fitness

Yesterday kicked off my 100 days of classes! Continuing my Tour de Spin NYC, I tried another indoor cycling class: Cyc. It’s located in the David Barton Gym down in Astor Place, and once again, I’m amazed at exactly how different all these cycling classes can be.

This is starting to feel cyc drumlike going out on 100 first dates. As I go to each new cycling studio, I find myself trying to analyze the experience based on appearance, upkeep, fun-factor, the little gifts they give me, and of course, how well they can work me out. And, just like when I was dating, I don’t pay nearly as much attention to the money factor as I should.

Also, like dating, so much of it really comes down to a gut feeling and a personality match. I’ll be making a spreadsheet with a list of cost, amenities, metrics, music, and burn-factor, but ultimately it comes down to who I click with. And that seems to come down to the teacher. So far, my favorite teacher has been Leah at Cyc.

I think I tend toward the bubbly type, in fitness instructors (not so much with romance). Leah was practically on crack, and she must have attended an evangelical church as a kid because she made first-timers raise their hands and get welcomed by the congregation. Despite this, she won me over with her constant switch-it-up-to-distract-them-from-the-pain technique. I was genuinely surprised when the class was over. She’d made us cycle-box with our sandbag weights, as well as swim with them, row with them, and race up hill standing in between. At one point she even became an orchestra conductor, dividing the class in half and having us rise up and down in harmony as she pointed her giant drumstick at us or beat it against the big-ass bass drum on the stage. I was impressed that she did all this, plus worked the lights from dim to black-light glow to pitch black depending on our simulated activity and the music.

The music was pretty pop-y, and there were no metrics in sight, not even RPMs, yet my legs found the rhythm, and maybe that’s part of what made the class go faster too. I wasn’t caught up in the numbers. I tend to choose artists over accountants. There’s this part of me that feels like people who understand spreadsheets and numbers must know more, but when it comes to really winning me over, I like drama and metaphor.

A location within the David Barton Gym doesn’t hurt either. Spacious locker room replete with big towels and fancy bath products? Check. Cubbies for your shoes and lots of benches to change them on? Check. Coat check? Check. Of all the studios I’ve been to, this one has the most space which is a precious thing in Manhattan. Oh God, this is another way it’s just like dating for me. I totally fell for the guy with the big loft in Chinatown, so big a hammock stretched across his living room. The same hammock that started his now going on 10-year lesson for me to close my eyes and enjoy the ride with him.

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