I don’t know what possessed Beloved to sign up for a spin class. When he told me his plans I had assumed he wasn’t sure what a spin class was all about. He assured me he knew it was all about “getting fit with cycling”.
He stumbled through the door, managed to crawl to the chair and flop down with a huge sigh. After a few moments of him resting, he assured me that this first spin class has taught him it wasn’t really about getting fit. He proclaimed it to be torture, torture with a stationary bike. Torture that he paid good money for which meant he’d have to keep going until it killed him.
I immediately checked the life insurance policy, but couldn’t see how I’d get paid if he was tortured to death. A girl needs to know where she stands with these things right? 😉
He awoke to pain from muscles he never knew he had before. He debated updating the Will, but to his credit, he would drag himself to class, drag himself home to flop in a chair and announce he was finished. But this was just a routine, one he needed to do in order to go his class.
Of course he did get into shape from this, but he never ceased calling it torture. Of course the man also decided he was good with riding a bike and getting nowhere at all, so he signed up for more sessions. I guess it’s what you call a good form of torture!