Jose yelled, “harder, harder, push harder … you can do it” and it reminded me of being in the delivery room. No, I was not at Mount Sinai Hospital, but rather in the midst of a grueling spinning class, which I had no business being at.

I’ve never spinned (or cycled) on a stationary bike during an exercise class. All my girlfriends encouraged me. They all said, “Oh, it’s so much fun and what a great workout.” Obviously, they were not “real” friends, or they would have said, “forget working out … let’s go shopping and out to lunch.”

Instead, it’s 7:55 am and I’ve now completed 55 insane minutes of my first strenuous spinning class. My friend Pamela turns to me and says, “How many miles did you ride?” I had no idea how to read the darn monitor … there were at least 10 different digital readings. I put my hand up and Jose came over, dripping in sweat. I asked him and he told me 18 miles. I laughed in his face. “Are you serious, or is that posh health club miles?” And he insisted that I had ridden 18 real miles.

I have never felt prouder in my life.

Fast forward to the next day. Every time I went to the bathroom, I screamed in agony as I attempted to lower myself onto the seat. Every muscle (especially in my tushy) was screaming in pain. All I can hope for is that tomorrow at 7 a.m. (Monday morning), I will once again muster the strength, the endurance, and most of all the will power to get back in the saddle, and ride another 18 miles … all in hopes of a firmer behind, trimmer thighs and well defined calf muscles.