Recently, I hit a milestone: 400 completed rides in my indoor cycling classes at my local Y. As of this morning I’m at 403—but who’s counting? I am. And I care.
In June 2022, freshly into a new job and mostly recovered from a minor foot surgery, I decided to step out of my comfort zone. The YMCA was running a summer promo, so I joined, telling myself I’d try a few stretching or Pilates classes. Worst case, I’d cancel in August.
I did take a stretching class—but didn’t love it. Browsing the app where you book group classes, I noticed “Indoor Cycling”. It was offered five times a week and always full. I’d heard of SoulCycle and thought spin classes were for the super-fit or the super-rich. But the description said “novice,” and I figured: at least it’s on a bike. I can sit if I get tired. I signed up for a Saturday morning class.
The instructor, A., was friendly but direct. He helped me set up my bike. I happened to be wearing an old BMI t-shirt, and he asked if I worked there. I said no, but I’d had a long career in music publishing before switching to higher ed. He mentioned his wife had worked at a PRO and was a professor at Berklee. Cool, I thought. The playlist that day had a California theme. “California Dreamin’, “California Girls”, and “California Love” among them. I liked that we rode in the dark. The music flowed. There was a lot of standing and jumping but also sitting when I needed it. I could barely walk down the stairs afterward, but I felt accomplished—and proud.
Then I did something that surprised me: I took a sweaty, red-faced selfie outside the Y and posted it to Facebook. Then I signed up for another class.
My second class was a Tuesday night with a different instructor, Z. She greeted me by name, helped with my bike set up, and welcomed me warmly. Her style was high-energy, using a headset mic with constant encouragement. Z.’s class is a rhythm ride set to pop and dance tracks. We’re a team, and she’s our captain. Again, I posted a selfie. Spin#2, checkmark emoji. I had gone back for more.
And I kept going back—four times a week, most weeks. Mondays, Thursdays, and Saturdays with A., Tuesdays with Z. Lately, I’ve added Z.’s Thursday morning cardio sculpt class, and she’s incorporated light weights into our Tuesday rides — something my perimenopausal body appreciates.
My legs have never been stronger. One of my favorite examples? During a trip to Jamaica, we stayed at The Caves. My husband wondered if I’d be able to pull myself up the steep metal ladders out of the water. I jumped, skipped steps, and made it up more easily than he did. That story still makes me smile.
So, why did I stick with it? Exercise has never been my thing. I hated gym class. Running the mile was torture. In tennis, my friend and I sunbathed when we should have played. I’ve always walked—a necessity in NYC—and on vacation I’ll easily hit 20,000+ steps. But gyms? I need structure. I can’t work out solo. I’ve tried. It doesn’t last.
The only other exercise I stuck with this long was Curves in the early 2000s. I’d gained weight after moving to NYC in 2001. I’d go after work—down to Gramercy from Midtown, then back to Queens. I lost a lot of weight and somehow fit into a size 4 wedding dress in 2003.
My body has shifted since then. But I’m more confident in it at 46 than I ever was at 24. I don’t work out to lose weight anymore. It’s about wellness—physical and mental. Going to the gym isn’t a chore now. It’s like a second home, where I greet the ageless Rosita, and talk to Steve about baseball. Whether it’s spin, cardio sculpt, or water aerobics on summer Fridays, I’m there because I want to be. And it’s an added bonus that while I’m on the bike or in the pool, I’m device-free. Sure, I might be thinking about dinner, but mostly, I’m just in my body. It’s meditative.
Another reason I’ve stayed? The music. A. and I connected right away over it. His playlists range from death metal to Dolly Parton to weird Al. For my birthday, he’ll toss in some Joe Walsh and James Gang tracks. I introduced him to Jason Isbell; he introduced me to “Flamingo” by Kero Kero Bonito—now in my karaoke rotation and a hit in our office music league playlist. A. also writes music obituaries for the New York Times. Each quarter, he builds a playlist honoring artists who’ve passed. After a musical loss, we’ll chat pre-class about which song to include. When Kris Kristofferson and Dickey Betts died, those six classes of tribute rides brought real comfort.
I love Z.’s classes too. She is positive, remembers everyone’s names, and celebrates milestones with group photos. If I’ve had a bad day, her class flips my mood instantly.
403 rides later, I’m sure my friends are tired of my spin selfies. But I’ll keep posting them. Even if it’s just for me, it helps keep me motivated and track my journey. Anyone near me at 5:59 PM on a weekend knows that I’m about to zone out for 2 minutes to secure my spot in class.
