Define "athlete."

I know.

You are sick of hearing about spin class.

But being able to go every Saturday after six weeks without it is such a sweet reunion for me. And when I'm bursting with love for anything exercise-related for the first time in my life, I gotta talk about it.

You have to understand. I am beyond uncoordinated. I suck at sports. I walk pigeon-toed. I was a cheerleader in high school, but only because everyone who tried out made it. I played soccer for six years and never scored a goal. I played softball for six years and never hit a home run.

But when I am pedaling on my bike on Saturday mornings, I feel like an athlete. And I never, ever thought that would be possible, even though I've always wanted it.

Desperately.

I have spin shoes that click into the pedals, so all I have to concentrate on is keeping my feet flat, my shoulders down, and my grip light.

And the music, and my teacher's voice.

The sounds of the class are my favorite. When I'm in spin, I love the music that I never thought I'd love.

Britney. Kanye. Salt-n-Pepa.

And then a song will start that I've always loved. Like today, when Get What You Give by New Radicals began, I professed my love aloud for the song. But it's never been as meaningful as it is during class. And listening to my teacher emphasize the important words of the song through her mic made me pedal a little faster; add a little more resistance.

Don't give up

You've got a reason to live

Can't forget you only get what you give


Cheesy? Maybe. But oh, so true.

I went into class this morning nursing a sinus infection. I even told my teacher that I was phoning it in today. Between the pressure in my head and the pain in my legs, I was convinced that I wasn't going to work as hard as usual.

And then the sweat started pouring.

And the endorphins started kicking in.

And I heard the teacher tell us that there are no quitters in her class. That we are rock stars. To remember why we came in today.

And I felt the energy of the spinners around me.

I wanted to make myself proud. To make my teacher proud. To make everyone around me impressed that six weeks after having a baby, I was keeping up. Hell, I wanted to be in the front of the pack, kicking ass in the sprints....on the hills...on the jumps.

For the first time in my life, I feel athletic. Strong. And it feels as good as I thought it would every time I got tagged out on the softball field as a kid.

Feeling the sweat drip from my nose and adding more resistance than I did last week, even with sore muscles or a sinus infection, I feel like I can do anything. If I can make it through my Saturday morning spin class, I can deal with the sleep deprivation. I can make it through the days that my husband works 14 hours. I can juggle a job, and two kids, and a marriage. Someday, I'll be able to do that triathlon.

When the class ends, I am spent. I have sweat dripping from places from which I didn't know I could sweat. Yet without fail, I always feel significantly better than when I walked in the gym.

It's basically free therapy that makes you skinnier. I'd be crazy not to be obsessed with it.

***edited to add an important note:
Some of you have commented or e-mailed me about wanting to try spin. If you don't love it the first time, try it again, with a different teacher. The reason I love my Saturday morning class is because of the teacher. She inspires me and her music pumps me up. I take other classes when I am desperate and they don't compare!

Anatomy of a Spin Class

7:41 am: Wake up after G gracing me with THREE consecutive three-hour stretches of sleep. Tell G I have never been prouder of him. Realize I feel ready to return to my beloved spin class after 6 weeks off.

7:45: Hear L come in our room, a full 75 minutes past his usual wake up time. Almost cry with gratitude about the most sleep I've gotten in over four weeks.

7:46: Nurse G and simultaneously pump on the other side, continuing to thank the sleep gods.

8:14: Remove baby and pump from my tatas and bounce out of bed, feeling like I've had six cups of coffee. Pull on workout clothes, brush hair and teeth, apply deodorant, all with a bounce in my step.

8:21: Sing and dance my way into the living room, where L gives me a strange look and asks me to stop singing. Respond by telling him he's going to have to put up with me after the night of sleep I got.

8:22: Pour pumped milk into a bottle for G; instruct B for the 12th time about how to heat and give the bottle just in case he needs it while I am gone.

8:23: Gather the rest of my spinning materials, eat a protein bar, and literally bounce with excitement over finally getting the opportunity to return to spin class.

8:35: Kiss my three boys and skip out the door, elated.

8:50: Ignore odd looks from fellow drivers on the freeway as I dance and sing at the top of my lungs to MC Hammer's Can't Touch This. (Shut up. I know. THREE three hour stretches, people!)

9:00: Pull into the parking lot of the gym. Bounce out of the car and greet a fellow gym goer with a too-cheery "Good morning!" Ignore the eye roll she gives me.

9:02: Greet my spin teacher/labor coach/friend/source of inspiration, Audrey at the door. Respond to her questioning if I'm feeling ready to return to the gym by babbling about the amount of sleep I got last night. Attempt, unsuccessfully, to wipe the grin off my face.

9:04: Enter spin room, set bike up, and tell anyone who will listen about how much sleep I got last night.

9:16: Spin class begins. Grin stupidly as Audrey tells us for the first of 8295 times, "Add a gear."

9:20: Grin fades a bit as I realize we are only one song in and I am huffing and puffing and pouring sweat.

9:25: Take note of the fact that my lungs feel like they are going to burst.

9:32: Audrey removes her shirt to expose her perfectly sculpted six-pack. Stare at them, and tell myself that this is why I am here. Without the gym, I'll never get my abs back.

9:40: Audrey, apparently channeling Jillian Michaels, yells at us to pick it up and reminds us we aren't even halfway through the class. Groan. Loudly.

9:47: Wonder if it's possible for my heart to pump directly out of my chest.

9:50: During sprints, feel like I am kicking ass and taking names. Glance over at the girl next to me and realize I am going roughly half her speed. Damn.

9:55: Stare unabashedly at Audrey's abs for the entirety of the next song.

9:57: Consider asking if I can get an epidural. This is far more difficult than G's labor.

10:01: Think about whether I should grab the trash can or run for the bathroom if I do indeed vomit.

10:05: As Audrey tells us again to add a gear, I throw her a dirty look. She smiles sweetly at me and I oblige. And die a little more.

10:10: Audrey says the two sweetest words I've ever heard: "Last song." Sing at the top of my lungs to "Hey Soul Sister," grateful that somehow, by the grace of God, I didn't die.

10:15: Shakily get off of my bike. During stretches, wonder what subliminal messages Audrey put in her music to make me already excited for next week's torture class.

NOT me! Monday: the desperate attempt to get into spin class edition

That was NOT me on Saturday morning at the front counter at the gym, screaming at the man behind the desk.

Of course I would understand that people make mistakes and the guy I talked to last week just forgot to put me on the spinning list.

That was NOT me with tears in my eyes, arguing with the man, and I certainly did NOT drop the f-bomb. Ugh. I am much classier than that.

I did NOT embarrass my friend Jillian, who was waiting with me. I did NOT tell her that I was going to go home and lay on the couch and eat fattening food when she suggested we go walk on the treadmill instead.

I mean, if that happened to me, even if I was 5 and 1/2 weeks pregnant with out-of-control hormones, I certainly would NOT yell at someone. C'mon, you guys. I am all about respect and peace and love.

And I would NOT be so addicted to this particular spinning class and this particular spinning instructor that I wouldn't even fathom going to another class. Geez. I am much more open-minded than that. I would NOT be one of those girls who is a groupie for a specific teacher. Ugh. NOT me!!

Even if I would do any of those things, when the man gave out the last ticket, I would NOT go running, full-speed, to the spinning room to beg and plead pathetically ask the teacher nicely if I could use her bike, as she's given it to other poor souls in my situation before. Talk about pathetic. I might be lots of things, but I am NOT pathetic.

And let's just say I did do that, you know, hypothetically...I would NOT make a big scene about it. I would NOT make my tough-as-nails teacher look a little scared. Because that is just crazy. And everyone knows that I am NOT crazy already, and I am definitely NOT crazier when I am pregnant.

Goodness knows, if that all did happen, I am sure that I would NOT end up on "my" bike, making the man who was late to class take the teacher's bike in the front of the class. Obviously I know that beggars can't be choosers. I am NOT a big spoiled brat.

And after all that, I am sure that it would all NOT be worth it to me to get to my favorite therapeutic class, with a teacher I totally admire, riding with my friends, and enjoy that endorphin high. NOT me!

Welcome to Not Me! Monday! This blog carnival was created by MckMama. You can head over to her blog to read what she and everyone else have not been doing this week.

I am NOT addicted to Not Me! Mondays! Not Me!!

Apparently, MckMama has something up her bloggy (and probably brightly colored) sleeve this week and is not posting a Not Me! Monday post. Luckily, she still gave her blessing on us Not Me! addicts to continue the brutal honesty without her. Whew! So what did I do this week? Well...

I did NOT put lotion on my son rather than giving him a bath one day before bringing him to school. I am always prepared and on-time and would always have a freshly bathed child. I would NOT bring him dirty to school, and even if I did, I would NOT try to fool his teachers by lathering him up with baby lotion. Ew. NOT me.

I did NOT go to spinning class without shaving my armpits. I am Sicilian, and I obviously know that I need to shave my armpits at least once a day. I know that our teacher leads us in tricep stretches before each class, and I would NOT subject my teacher and my classmates to hairy armpits. Gross, you guys.

I did NOT drop a chicken breast on the kitchen floor and cook it anyway. Even if I had just cleaned the floor that day, I would NOT rinse it off and put it in the oven. That chicken is for my family and I would NOT think the five-second rule was kosher in my house!!

I did NOT eat Tostitos and queso dip for lunch on Sunday, and then eat a second lunch of chicken and rice leftovers (yes, the same chicken that was NOT dropped on the floor). And if I did, I certainly did NOT eat some of L's SpongeBob animal crackers after that. I always count calories and would NOT indulge like that. I do NOT ever lose self-control when it comes to eating. Not me!

Anything you want to be brutally honest about this week??

Random Sunday thoughts

After a week-long hiatus from anything remotely healthy, thanks to our lake vacation, I got back on the exercise wagon yesterday.

And I asked my spinning teacher to coach me through my next childbirth.

Yeah. For real.

She's such a badass and she can get me through anything. I told her that her class was harder than giving birth and added that if I have another baby, it will probably be a lot easier since I've been taking her class. Then I told her that maybe she should just come coach me through the next one.

Her eyes lit up and she said she had five kids and had always wanted to do that and never gotten to do so. So I told her that if I get pregnant again, she'll get the chance.

That's weird, huh? Oh well. I'm still making her and all of her muscles come in and inspire me to not give up. That might have to be my first vlog.

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I chopped my hair off yesterday. It wasn't that long to begin with (see photos below) but I went in to get a cut and color before my LA trip.

(Yes, I am secretly hopeful that I'll get discovered. What? It could happen!)

My friend, dog-sitter, and amazing stylist Michele asked me what I wanted to do and I got a wild hair and asked her what she thought. When she suggested cutting it just below my chin, I agreed. And as the scissors came close to my neck, I panicked...and then told her to hurry up and just do it before I changed my mind.

I like it. B, amazingly, loves it. I'll post a pic soon!

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We survived our first outing with L wearing big-boy underwear today. Denny's was a success.

Too bad he pooped and peed in them when we got home. At least he told B...."Ummmm, Daddy? I peed in my underwear."

Baby steps. Baby steps.

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I have to post just a couple more pictures from our vacation. Em sent me a few hundred more today and I couldn't resist posting these.....

L picked me a flower on our nature walk and Em caught him giving it to me. Proof he can be sweet.

The one and only group shot from the trip, thanks to Em's self-timer. It only took a few tries and I love it!

And perhaps I am a bit biased, but seriously...how cute is this????

Can I get a WOOOOO??

I am always preaching to be positive...I'm a believer in positive thinking and kindness and forgiveness. I drive B crazy with it.

Yeah, today that all went out the window. I actually wanted to hurt someone in my spinning class this morning. I spin three times a week, but Saturday mornings are my absolute favorite, because of the awesome teacher...who wasn't there today. So I was already disappointed to see a sub and not the instructor who I actually admire. If you'd see her body, you'd understand. She is shredded. And a grandma. But I digress.

I decided to make the best of it and class began. The teacher's playlist began with a little Michael Jackson "Beat it" tribute. I love me some MJ, so I started to get pumped up...and then she started. Someone behind me started screaming, "Woooooo!!!" I get the woo's every now and then, when you are out of breath and working hard. But to "Wooo" every ten to fifteen seconds kind of ruins that whole mind-body connection thing.

I am not exaggerating about the frequency of the woo-ing. At one point, I was so irritated by her that I timed her. That was the point that I started to get really angry because this girl was ruining one of my favorite times of the week.

Oh, it wasn't just woos. She pulled out "yeah baby, " some weird tongue noises, and a "go-go-go" or two. She cheered on the teacher, yelling, "Yeah, Jennifer! and "Great song!!" At one point, she screamed, "Faster, faster, faster!" I really should have just started laughing. Because really, how often do you get to spin to a porn soundtrack?

But she made me so angry. It got so bad that I asked our teacher to turn up the music...when Britney Spears' "If You Seek Amy" began. That's bad. I looked over at B next to me and said, "I'm sorry, " (he hates the music in spin classes and I am sure Britney is at the top of his most-hated list) "but I am going to kill her. I seriously cannot take it." And of course, since the music was on, I said it in a loud voice. Maybe a little too loud. I was in the front row, so I am sure the teacher heard me.

Just when I thought this ride couldn't get worse, a country song began. I don't mean to offend any country music lovers, but country music is not my thing. Especially during spinning. So I had this country song blaring in my ears, thanks to my request to crank up the volume. And the woo-woo girl kept it up strong. I actually attempted to catch B's eye and ask him if he wanted to leave. Fortunately, he couldn't see me in the dark.

56 l-o-n-g minutes after our ride began, it finally finished. After we stretched, I was bent down changing from my spin shoes (which are awesome, by the way) and B bent down and asked me what was wrong.

"That woman," I whispered angrily. "She's so annoying. She totally ruined my ride. I seriously almost threw my water bottle at her."

"The one right next to me?" B asked, knowingly.

I could have sworn she was behind me. I am a huge wuss when it comes to confrontation and I would never have said a word inside the room if I thought she could hear me. Whoops.

I glanced at her and she was chatting with the teacher about their kids and upcoming vacations. Apparently they were friends. Crap.

The same teacher is subbing again next week. I'll be slinking down on my bike in the back. And staying as far away from the woo-woo girl as I can.

And praying that the teacher secretly thinks the woo-woo girl is annoying and talked to her about her woos. Because that would make it all worth it.