Monday, April 19, 2010

Another Mutter

It had been exactly 13 weeks since I last attended spinning class.

That break allowed me the opportunity to erase all memories of my bruised behind and lazy legs. It was the perfect amount of time for me to convince myself, yet again, that spinning might be fun.

Little did I know that there would be a new member in the class. Or should I say, a new member "with child."

There is a new pregnant spinning chick. (It appears that the original pregnant spinning chick, about whom I blogged months ago, has taken a week off to spin out her baby).

I am shocked and sort of appalled that there are at least two women in the world, let alone my spinning class, who are crazy enough to spin while 9 months pregnant.

Am I just "old school?"

Are pregnant women in 2010 that much more aggressive in their fitness regimens than pregnant women were in 2009 (when I was pregnant)?

I can tell you that my idea of exercise was huffing and puffing up my stairs, rolling over in bed, and running frantically from my living room to the toilet to flush a stink bug (when my husband wasn't home to save the day).

Are ob/gyns recommending spinning these days instead of Lamaze class?

Seriously, what will be next for the pregnant people? Zip-lining? Pregnant paintball? Heli-skiing?

The only thing that shook me out of these endless thoughts was the spinning teacher's entrance.

She bounced in the door on her perfectly tanned and toned legs, all amped up. As she hoped on her bike in the center of the room, she announced to the class:

"Alright, everybody, I have fresh legs today. I haven't worked out in a few days, although I danced for 5 hours the other night at my best friend's wedding. It was at the Mutter Museum. And I would HIGHLY RECOMMEND having a wedding there."

I hung my head and tried to conceal my smile. I felt like I was going to laugh as hard as I used to in 8th grade science class, which would frequently lead the teacher to kick me out of class and make me stand on one square of linoleum in the hallway.

She did NOT just say "Mutter," I chuckled to myself.

A WEDDING? At the MUTTER? This idea was, by far, crazier than puffing up fake hills on a stationary bike with a basketball of a baby under your tank top.

I imagined the bride and groom posing with Grover Cleveland's tumor.

I must respectfully disagree that the Mutter would be a perfect spot for a wedding, (unless you're marrying Marilyn Manson). A funeral, Halloween party, rave, or brief 3rd date at the Mutter? YES. Nuptials? NO.

And, my suggestion on spinning while 9 months pregnant: Do it at your own risk. I'll stick with the zip line.

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