There’s a Peloton bike in my basement.
Actually, it’s not a Peloton bike. Those cost $1,000,000.00. It’s a “spin” bike of sturdy variety, priced for those of us in the lower tax brackets, recommended by my wife’s hairdresser. Who is likely very fit.
However, when I open the Peloton app on my phone and place it on the handlebar area, I now have a Peloton bike. Subsequently, I’m conflicted.
My Primary Care Physician has told me three things that are really ingrained in my psyche:
- “…your hands are dirty, stop touching your face…”
- “…you seem like a really ‘all-or-nothing’ kind of guy…”
- “…at your age, it’s really about what you eat, rather than exercise.”
Item (1.) was in
reference to when I got MRSA in 2005 after visiting a nursing home in a remote
part of Kansas. Gross.
Item (2.) was/is in reference to my weight/level of slovenliness during a given year/at time of visit.
Item (3.) was obviously a purposeful insult, designed to lower my self esteem, initiate an adversarial relationship and engage in psychological warfare.
Thus, I have this “Peloton” bike. Or should I say, a series of Peloton apps on my phone, one of which relates to the bike (it turns out there’s Peloton Yoga, Peloton Running, Peloton Outdoor – don’t know what that means – , Peloton Bootcamp…Peloton Marriage Counseling, Peloton Civil Court).
All of the instructors are incredibly fit, incredibly attractive people. Which is to be expected. The level of polish, right down to the dermis-thin/tight Peloton emblazoned workout gear, sun-kissed tans, and stupifying muscle definition is admirable, quasi-inspiring…and enraging.
But I said “fine,” used that rage as motivation, hopped on the bike, picked an instructor…and then, I mean she just started yelling at me. Not, admonishing or even drill sergeant-type yelling, just…yelling. Everything. I thought she must have a speech impediment that involved volume control, or maybe it’s loud in the studio, or maybe she’s just annoying? Was this really necessary?
My wife, via her hairdresser, had suggested, as a heterosexual man, I pick one of the attractive female instructors for “motivation” (as if I’m some sort of cave ape who will only workout through some sort of Pavlovian response to a woman…which may or may not be true). My wife had been following “Denis,” who looks like Atlas and seems all nice and funny and perfect and I hate him, so that’s why I started with the female instructor, and why I moved on to the next unachievably gorgeous instructor in the queue.
Same deal. It was so irritating I can’t describe it. I’d been rage-sweating on this stupid bike for 37 minutes and gone nowhere (even for a stationary bike) because I was frantically mashing at my Peloton App trying to find someone bearable. How do people put up with this? I moved on to the male instructors, they were worse. I was in this downward spiral of miserable annoyance, trapped in my basement by inanimate objects.
To further abuse myself mentally I resorted to Googling some of these instructors as I steamed on my bike. Guess what? Half of them are ex-or-current models/dancers/pro athletes/fitness competition contestants. How DARE they show up here all awesome and positive and attractive and tell me what to do. And DENIS is an ex Division 1 football player. Great. GREAT. So happy for you, DENIS.
So this whole thing didn’t work out for me. I’m pretty sure by the time I was done spiraling out of control (call it an hour) I’d lost ten pounds, so I can’t say it was totally ineffective.
I guess I’ll resort to small steps to achieve my fitness goals…“eating smaller portions” (as if that works) and staying active in other ways.
Which reminds me, have you seen the Mirror workout system?