I went to spinning tonight, as Greg and I do every Tuesday, and tonight, I cried through the middle fifteen minutes of class.
Sometimes I feel like Lance Armstrong on my bike. Sometimes in a yoga class, I feel like I'm Yoga Journal model material.
And then sometimes I just want to hop off my bike, or roll up my mat, and freaking forget it.
That's when I need to stay the most.
"Tap it up a notch," Vicki encouraged us.
Not a chance.
"You're making those legs work tonight!" she cheered us on.
I don't wanna.
"Grab a drink. Take a deep breath. Relax," she said.
Instead, I cried.
Whatever I was holding on to released its stupid grip, and although it was hard to breathe, in the dark room, to the sound of techno music, I released it.
"It's just you on a bike. Nothing else matters," Vicki said.
I found my breath, and I continued on.
At the end of class, I hugged Vicki, with more love then she probably knows.
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