on 'spinning out'
why this, why now, why do my legs ache
after launching straight into this project with a self-indulgent reflection on the emotional mindfield the latter portion of 2023 was, entirely unspell-checked because I posted it and then immediately closed my laptop and donned my gay apparell for a nye party, I thought it might be a good idea to introduce ‘spinning out’ to you formally in a little stopgap newsletter.
‘spinning out’ was given her name partially after the boygenius ‘not strong enough’ lyric, “I can't stop staring at the ceiling fan and/spinning out about things that haven't happened” - because so true! if I was in possession of a ceiling fan you would catch me staring at it while overthinking every single interaction I ever have, as is the god-given 24/7 duty of everyone in their early twenties with a slightly inflated sense of self.
however, the main reason for ‘spinning out’ (partially thanks to my friend josh, who declared it the perfect name while we sat in the bandstand in northampton square) is because since september 2023, I’ve been unable to pipe down about my new obsession: spin classes. I am borderline evangelical. I truly believe that there is very little a good spin to some 2010s hyperpop can’t fix.
when I conceived of this newsletter, I imagined myself typing it out on the tube journey home from my weekly spin classes. I’d been doing a lot of thinking in spin, aside from ‘my legs hurt’, ‘my bum hurts’, and ‘I think my leggings are slowly falling down’, so when better to set these thoughts to laptop than when they were fresh in my head and I was on a comedown from the highs of surging to muna? however. I just think it’s a bit much to be tapping away on a tube, especially one that’s packed (which they usually are during the week). so my proposal is now thus: every two weeks, hopefully on a monday, some thoughts, worthy or unworthy of reading, mostly to get me in the habit of writing with some kind of regularity before I’m thrust into the world of begging people to pay me for my thoughts (or possibly selling out to search engine optimisation, but a girl can dream!)
now, why spin? what about sitting on possibly the most uncomfortable bike saddles known to woman, sweating in a darkened room while music blares, is appealing to me? so much.
after a particularly satisfying session in which I surged to ‘bug like an angel’ by mitski (just as emotionally brutal as it is physically), I thought about all the reasons I love spin. here are the ones that were impactful enough to remember:
it has made me stronger. this seems a bit obvious in retrospect but it’s true - my legs no longer tremble on the stairs down to the changing room! my arms are less weak! I can do push ups on handlebars and hold myself out of the saddle for whole songs! I never feel more strong than when I’m surging to a heavy song. this is miraculous to me as a girl who has always declared herself physically weak.
it has helped me to trust my body. it is capable of so much, of doing all of the above, without much complaint. it is worthy of my admiration and love, because it does what I need it to do, and so much else besides. my instructor focuses on listening to your body, something I’d not thought a great deal about before. she says that our stomachs are fine taking up space, that our bodies, and by extension we, are strong and worthy and capable. on the days when I don’t feel positive about my body, I allow myself neutrality: my body fulfils a purpose. I believe spin has been fundamental in this process.
nothing else really matters. I leave my phone in the locker, and nothing can reach me for 45 minutes. I am essentially trapped in a darkened room with strangers, captive in a tiny world, and most of my thoughts are about what little treat I will buy on the way home to refuel, and how I need to diversify my music taste to include the bangers blasting from the studio speakers. when I first started spin, I’d just been through some pretty seismic changes (being dumped, moving home, starting a masters) and it felt like nothing made sense. during those first couple of sessions on the bike, it really struck me how, when I was on that bike, none of that could reach me. I was literally stuck, legs cycling, while all of that went on outside. it was bliss.
no one cares. truly! no one else in that room cares what I am doing. it’s dark, I am usually very near the back, and most people are too busy doing literal press ups on handlebars to find it in themselves to wonder what anyone else is up to. once, I went to a studio in a different location to my usual one, and was really intimidated by all the girlies in lululemon leggings (is that one word?I don’t even know, that’s how little I know about gymwear). I was in a big napoleon dynamite t shirt and m and s leggings and was convinced everyone there thought I looked silly. guess what? they definitely didn’t care about my t shirt. and my leggings were incredibly comfy and stayed up. huge win.
it is an act of reclamation. in my spin classes, my instructor often emphasises that we can do what we want with our bodies. if we need to turn the resistance down or up, we can. if we need to put the weights down, or shake out, we can. if we need to sit down during a bounce, we can. anything or bodies want, we can give them. this feels radical to me in a way that’s been so healing - my body is mine, and only I get to choose what it does, and what it deserves.
it is an act of self love. the entire routine I’ve developed around the classes is entirely focused on my needs and desires, and nothing else. after the class is finished, I luxuriate in a shower, with complimentary fancy shampoo and shower gel. I moisturise, and take as long as I need to do it. I change into the comfiest clothes possible (as close to pyjamas as I can get), and then head out and buy myself a small treat. I read on the tube home, or pick an album to listen to all the way through. I look after myself and reward myself for showing up physically and mentally even when it feels difficult.
all of these reasons and so many more are why I go back every week, even though sometimes the seats are so uncomfortable that sitting down on the tube ride home hurts. I will wax lyrical about spin to anyone, at any time, and often do. if you’d told me even six months ago that this is the kind of woman I’d become, I’d have laughed. but here I am, writing a silly little newsletter about how much I love doing press ups on handlebars to chappell roan. honestly, spinning out every emotion possible on a bike in the weird rollercoaster of the last few months has been incredibly healing for me, and I hope this newsletter (even though it will mostly not really be about spin) is testament to that.