At my first class I felt like a walking ‘before’ picture, surrounded by ‘afters’. Then the instructor turned the lights off, and I became a convert
Once I realised you could cry in Spin class, it was over.
To take it back a bit, I was not a very fit adult. Like many women, I equated going to the gym with various desperate, full-throttle attempts to become smaller – feverish, week-long periods of daily visits that were abandoned when I failed to immediately drop a stone. To take it back further, I was once a dictionary-definition “indoor kid”, whose lack of athletic ability was exceeded only by my lack of interest in doing anything other than reading under a blanket. As a result, my peers never chose me in gym class, and a classic “not really one for physical activity” complex was born, with no real malice on anyone’s part.