Shift.

“So, speaking of Led Zepplin . . .”

The ever-energetic woman facing the class says this about forty minutes in. She’s smiling and not breathing heavily. I notice this because I am currently sucking at every ounce of oxygen anywhere near me. I’m dripping sweat and my legs are very, very, extremely pissed at me. Oh yeah, gotta love cycling class. I am struggling to keep my legs moving forward and the happy little instructor says with this wide smile, “So, speaking of Led Zepplin . . .,” and I smile because no one is speaking of Led Zepplin, no one is speaking. They are all competing for that same oxygen I’m trying so desperately to inhale. It’s like saying to a group of beekeepers, “So, speaking of origami . . ..” They just don’t care about origami. Like I just don’t care about Led Zepplin right now. What I care about is the fire in my quadriceps and how there isn’t enough water left in my bottle to put it out. But, I smile because it catches me off guard and makes me shift my thinking. And as I’m smiling, marveling over Led Zepplin, I can breathe again and the fire is dying out below into more of a smoldering ash pile and I feel like I can push those pedals forever. When the peppy lady at the front suggests we all shift gears, adding some resistance, I don’t hurdle my handlebar and strangle her. Instead, I grit my teeth under my smile and shift. Only now I feel like I can fly.

Shift. It is normally a very tiny movement. One pinkie stroke on a keyboard. One gear to the next. One foot to another. One moment to the next. It isn’t a leap or a stride. Just a shift. So, you might imagine that would mean it is easy to do, but that isn’t always true. We like our grooves, our routines, our ruts. We may moan about them from time to time, but in the end, they are safe and comfortable and already mapped. So it is life without having to think about life. And when we are asked to climb out from our trenches, we may feel grumpy. We say to ourselves, Why should I? What I am doing works? I can’t imagine there is anything better out there. I’ll just stay put. And what a shame that is, especially when we don’t even realize we are saying those things.

And so it was, that in that cycle class it took a woman’s random musings to snatch me from my grueling travel down a very narrow (and steep – stupid spin bike gears!) path. And when I shifted my thinking and stopped contemplating the pain I associate with a spin class and started contemplating anything else, let alone Led Zepplin, I realized it isn’t more than I can handle. In fact, it is a pretty interesting little journey.

Which reminds me! Speaking of Journey . . .