Now you might think that my enforced separation from the erg would have been welcome. You’d be wrong.
Step forward my new enemy. The spin bike.
I confess I underestimated this Instrument of Evilness when I first learned I’d be spinning instead of erging throughout my recovery. How hard can it be, honestly? It only uses your legs. It looks pretty easy. And the internet is full of pictures of spin classes where everyone is smiling and nobody is sweating.
Why are they all smiling? Why? Why?
How wrong I was. Within moments of stepping on to the Spinbike of Doom, the pain racked up. My knees! My quads! My lungs! After the first set of intervals I could taste blood in my mouth. After the second I was shaking so much I had to be escorted to a chair.
Mercifully, last night I was back on the erg for a UT1 session and managed a full 30 minutes before I could feel my shoulder niggling. What a blessed relief it was to be back on the trusty Concept2. So it wasn’t easy and it wasn’t exactly fun. But it wasn’t the spin bike and I even found myself breaking into a smile when the playlist kicked into some 80s favourites.
Sadly, the final 20 minutes were played out on the Instrument of Torture and were longer by far than the first 30. But it looks as though the erg and I will soon be reunited. Who knows? If the monsoon ever comes to an end I might one day even get out on the water. And if anyone ever suggests going to a spin class? My advice. Don’t do it.