Totally My Fault

Totally my fault. 

Having enjoyed, with rare exception, the status of certified indoor cycling instructor for almost two decades, I have evolved my ‘schtick’ into a semi-fine art. We do the obligatory ten minute warm up, a variant of high-intensity intervals for almost an hour, warm down, stretch and head for the showers. As a result of my tenure and experience I have, over the years, developed some bad habits. The most notable of which I will share with you here, as I shared it with my class this morning. 

One month ago I was asked by the new group fitness coordinator to move from my long running and successful 0530 classes to the more popular 0845 sessions. Being the dedicated team player that I am, I agreed despite the fact that it would create total chaos with my schedule, sleep patterns and routine. The demographic difference between the two times is as different as pre-dawn and noon. My early classes mainly consisted to Type AAA guys wanting to hit the ground running and willing to rise at oh-dark-thirty to be tested. As you might suspect the 0845 is predominantly what we call, somewhat derogatorily, soccer Moms. Up until now that combination, me as drill instructor and Moms who have an hour after dropping the kids at school was not particularly a copacetic mix. 

After a period of soul searching I decided that the onus was upon my head and that I needed to tweak, evolve or morph into something a little more appropriate. 

September and October are vitally important months to gyms. Summer is over, school is back in session and people naturally want to use the vitality of fall as a springboard for enhancements to their health and fitness. 

I am subbing yesterday and facing a class of folks that are both new to the club as well as new to me. I lay out the groundwork protocol, the goal of the class and the sub-categorical ‘game within the game’ of training mind and body together. 

One of the new folks shouts something that I didn’t quite catch ending with what I take to be a form of encouragement ending with ‘here and now.’ I smile and clap in response hoping that I have answered appropriately. We go about our drills as I launch into the standard monologue and instructional cues. I notice that she is riding in a style I can only describe as ‘out of control’. She is standing with a flat back, arms well beyond her shoulders, rocking side to side with an almost violent imbalance. 

Not wanting to call her out I ask if anyone here is training for an Ironman or for a spot on the US Olympics Time Trial team? No response. I mimic her form saying that this is particularly dangerous, putting one in the red-zone of potential injury. I finish the warning with my standard claim that I am here to help - not to hurt. Please comply I add.

She is ((((rightfully))) embarrassed. And she tells me so. As all this drama is unfolding another woman, a regular, flatly tells her to STFU and do as told. Yikes.

I am able to defuse the conflict and we end the class in peace and harmony. 

And then the recap started. We have a chat after class she tells me of her issues and challenges. I explain my long running class protocols and decorum and we hug. All is well. 

Except that I, by assuming that everyone comes to class, participates and receives the same value and benefits from it, totally blew it. I missed a terrific opportunity to connect with an individual and support her unique circumstance. I was an insensitive bully, my way or the highway, offering little support, encouragement or advice to the one person needing it most. 

I assumed. I was wrong. I screwed up. I feel like Luca Brasi surely felt wearing a garrote necktie. 

And although I apologized afterwords, a modicum of damage had been done. The good news is that today’s class was a golden opportunity to use yesterday’s colossal error of commission for positive change. I apologize to you and I forgive me. 

Totally my fault. You can sleep with the fishes another day.