Acing the Test

The envelope please.

Following is my report on this mornings test. If you are interested you may learn the details, protocols and assumptions of the test in yesterday’s post, found here. 

I didn’t sleep particularly well. I was bothered by an inability to find the specific passage (Beethoven’s seminal Symphony number nine, in D-minor, Opus 124, movement IV), this is the one I wanted, but had inadvertently downloaded the choral my mistake. By the time I had recognized my error, I had lost wifi connectivity, watched another episode of Homeland (Season 2 finale), dined on salmon, cod and a rice curry mix and drank three delicious glasses of a French Pinot Noir. Frustrated, weary from the day and finally free of hip pain (salute!) I tried to sleep over the nagging reality that the experiment, if it was to have any chance at all of success, would come from my attention to detail and ability to carry the movement as il maestro. Finally negotiating a compromise, I would rise early, find the piece and re-mix the set list to include the righteous passage, this in exchange for piece of mind and some much needed rest. At this point I hadn't even created the spinning accompaniment, a rather important element of an indoor cycling class. 

My Saturday class starts at 0730 and runs for an hour. I am free to employ any format, style, level of intensity and selection of musical accompaniment that I desire. It is totally my show and over the course of the twenty years we have been meeting under this description we have traversed many happy miles of indoor cycling, going nowhere incredibly fast. 

It has always been my approach that music, as powerful an ally as it is, is secondary to the true idea of indoor cycling as training, where our ability, or lack thereof, to focus on the task at hand and not allow distraction to interfere, translates into the background soundtrack being non-essential to the primary directive. We used to say that the intrepid cyclist could, and should, train in front of a white wall in total silence in order the take her game to not only the next, but the highest level possible. I have since softened on that stance and have experimented with countless synergies since to find that combination of sound and movement that allows us to engage with the gods who ride on the road of total devotion and dynamic flow. 

With these two disparate elements, music and exercise, we set out this morning to test the possibilities that come from their harmonious partnership. I suggested that if music has the power to move us, that said movement is internal, emotional and personal, and when combined with a steady, efficient rhythm, a frequency of higher physical demand, that the combination, their sum, could be considered in many circles as magic. 

So I asked for Beethoven’s help in leading us to that place.

I stumbled through a rough introduction but by the time that Steppenwolf, in Magic Carpet Ride told us to let the music take us away, and Jerry in Franlin’s Tower suggested that should we become confused just listen to the music play, it was time for the gist of the test to begin. 

There are only three steps I reminded the group, one, to use music as an ally and embody its spirit and energy, two, to add appropriate physical, graceful movement to the mix and three, pay attention to what results. 

The six minute movement is one of the most ethereal pieces of music ever written. I make that claim without reservation and with no exaggeration. Listen for yourself here if you aren’t familiar with it. 

We finish the drill, the test is over, the silence roars in the triumph and success of the prior experience, and for the first time ever, an appreciative round of applause fills the void left by the joyous completion of this absolute masterwork and our participation with it. The dance is done. 

And I am happy, which is, of course this experiments equivalent of acing the test.