I know that I’ve finally turned a page regarding actually wanting to get on my bike again (see my post a couple of weeks ago on that) and I’m not at all unfamiliar with the cyclical ritual (no pun intended) of dragging myself back into riding shape again (I’ve probably done it at least 10 times in my life. At least). But I think “hate” is not too strong of a word to use regarding my spin instructor.

Granted, he doesn’t personally know me, nor will I go to any lengths to stand out — I will not take a spin bike in the front row (who needs 3 rows of people behind me staring at my ass?), nor will I spin extra fast, wear anything that matches, or reply to any general question he throws out to us.

However, I know for a fact that he’s lying to us, since no human being on earth who rides a spin bike can turn the knob 3 turns and still think the pedals will go around. I’ve got some street cred in this field — I’m not some yoga pants-wearing novice in the class (my apologies to any yoga pant-wearing spin attendees). And yet, there’s some tacit agreement that the 45 people in the class will allow this lie to continue, since they’re all still pedaling at some speed and I know they could not possibly be doing that having turned that knob three turns.

Today, though, I thought I was going to have to kill him. We’re doing some nightmare sprints that don’t have any rest between them (“Keep your cadence the same — this is not a recovery!”) and we’re nearly through the last one, and I’m thinking I’m going to die, really, this can’t be healthy for me, I feel so bad I may never come back to class again, and he’s counting down to the end, “3… 2…” and I’m thanking God I made it, I don’t ever have to do this again if I don’t want to, and I hear him pause (Pause!) and say, “I didn’t say 1 yet!”

A variety of things sprang to my mind, and none of them involved my appreciation for his commitment to my fitness. No, they included giving him the finger, and calling him a MF’er, and really, people have been killed for less. But my heart was falling out of my chest, which was preventing me from doing anything but hate him with a vengeance.

While I suspect that my general lack of enthusiasm might have something to do with that “dragging back” I was referring to above, I (armchair quarterback here) would have to say that if I was leading a spin class, I’d be telling everyone how great they look, how much they’ve improved. I’d paint pictures of riding in France, riding the Rockies, riding some fun races. I’d make them LOVE coming to class.

And, I can tell you, I’d make my countdowns end on “2″.