"And we've got 20 seconds to go. Keep pushing. See how hard you can push it. This is where it hurts. Ten seconds. You've got this. I want to see you all sweating these last moments. And three ... two ... one ...
"Great job, guys! Lean back and relax. We've got five minutes of cooldown before I'll let you out of here. Great work in this heat; let me know if you need anything."
I hopped off my bike, swiping my towel across my forehead as I let my heart rate return to normal. I paced back and forth across the room; I always needed to cool down off the bike. As I stretched, working the tension from my arms, I surveyed my class for signs of distress. Most of my regulars were in attendance, and they nodded in silent thanks as I wandered past them. I had no concern that within a few minutes they'd be fine.
But this was Saturday, which meant newbies.
Technically, I ran an intermediate class, but inevitably, inexperienced people found their way in on the weekends, when those who didn't work out as much had more free time.
I understood that people of all levels worked out—and that was fine—but I lived in terror that someone would injure themselves in one of my classes and that I'd go bankrupt fighting off a lawsuit. The facility made us purchase our own liability insurance, even though the company already had its own.
Chalk that up to another expense I'd rather go without but couldn't get away with avoiding. A girl had to eat—even the scraps that I fed myself with—and this spin job paid for my food and phone bill.
My anxiety increased when I noticed the girl in the back. She was completely slumped over, her head resting on the handle bars, not even bothering to cool down like my other students. Her shoulders heaved as she tried to drag air into her lungs. I bit my lip, debating whether to intervene. I could tell that she was a few pounds over her healthy weight by the way her clothes stretched just a little too tightly across her shoulders. This was not a class she should be attending. One of my coworkers had a great intro class that would be a better fit.
I straightened my shoulders, preparing myself for one of those awkward conversations.
"Hey, how are you feeling?"
The girl whimpered, but didn't lift her head to look at me. I noticed that her shoulders were shaking.
"Uh ... just breathe. I know this class can get a little intense. There's a great class on Wednesdays that you'll probably like. Lauren leads it really well and I think you'll like it."
She sniffled, still remaining silent. In horror, I realized she was crying. In all of my years as an instructor at various fitness centers, I'd never, not once, made someone cry.
Tentatively, I reached out and stroked her back as comfortingly as I could. She flinched, her back stiffening as I froze in embarrassment, but then she relaxed and I cautiously continued consoling her. We stayed that way for a few minutes as everyone else filed out, giving us curious looks as they went. Finally, she straightened up, brushing the tears away from what I realized was a really pretty face.
"Sorry. That was embarrassing. I'm okay."
"Do, uh, you want to talk about it? You're not dying, right?"
She laughed weakly, but in her eyes I saw devastation. "No. I'm not dying."
"Look, you know, I'm compelled to make sure you're okay. I don't want you getting hurt because of my class. If in the next few hours your muscles start hurting and, heaven forbid, your urine turns red—"
"I know about rhabdo. My muscles aren't dying," she snapped.
I stepped back, wondering who this woman was and how she knew about the muscle condition that sometimes affected inexperienced bikers. She must have noticed my startled expression, because she sighed and her shoulders slumped, as if she'd lost all will to continue.
"No, I'm sorry. That was rude. I just used to be ... a lot better at this. I knew better than to attend this class, but I just ... had to try. You won't see me again." She made to hop off the bike, wincing, but I threw my hand out to stop her. Something about her pain, the total despair, spoke to me. For some reason, something in me called out to this woman.
"Hey. Wait. What's your name?"
She stared at me, clearly debating whether to continue the conversation. "Sara. You can call me Sara."
"I'm Lena. Look, I don't know you, and you seem to be dealing with some stuff right now. But if you want, I can help you out. I don't do it often, but I can do private training if you're interested."
This time she did hop off, forcing me to step back so that she could gather the bag that she'd thrown at the base of the bike. "Thanks, but that won't be necessary. I know how to train."
"Uh, really?"
"Yeah, I know it doesn't look it. I appreciate your concern, but I'm really fine. Excuse me, I have another appointment."
I almost let her go, but in seeing the dejected slump of her shoulders, I called out, "Hey! Do you want to get a coffee or something? You look like you could use a friend, and to be honest, so could I."
She paused, then slowly turned around to face me. I tried not to flinch under her intense gaze. Sara studied me closely, but for what, I hadn't the slightest idea.
"I'll have to think about it. I've got a lot going on right now."
"Oh, okay," I said, mortified. I probably sounded like a crazy person, begging for a friend.
"No, I didn't mean it like that. I really do have some stuff to work through. If I change my mind, I can get ahold of you here, right?"
I nodded, unable to speak.
"Maybe I'll see you around again." Sara turned and, without another word, hustled out of the center. That was the only way I could describe it. She moved faster than I was pretty sure she'd moved during my entire class. Huh.
I stood, watching her pull out of the parking lot. Lauren, the fitness instructor I'd originally thought would be a better fit for Sara, walked up to me. We watched her pull out of the lot.
"What was that about?"
"I don't know. But she just seemed so sad. I don't know why, but I just felt like I needed to be friends with her."
"Well, you're a better person than me. I tend to leave the sad puppies alone."
I wrinkled my nose in distaste and made for my own vehicle. Perhaps Lauren's class wasn't suitable for Sara after all.
"And we've got 20 seconds to go. Keep pushing. See how hard you can push it. This is where it hurts. Ten seconds. You've got this. I want to see you all sweating these last moments. And three ... two ... one ...
"Great job, guys! Lean back and relax. We've got five minutes of cooldown before I'll let you out of here. Great work in this heat; let me know if you need anything."
I hopped off my bike, swiping my towel across my forehead as I let my heart rate return to normal. I paced back and forth across the room; I always needed to cool down off the bike. As I stretched, working the tension from my arms, I surveyed my class for signs of distress. Most of my regulars were in attendance, and they nodded in silent thanks as I wandered past them. I had no concern that within a few minutes they'd be fine.
But this was Saturday, which meant newbies.
Technically, I ran an intermediate class, but inevitably, inexperienced people found their way in on the weekends, when those who didn't work out as much had more free time.
I understood that people of all levels worked out—and that was fine—but I lived in terror that someone would injure themselves in one of my classes and that I'd go bankrupt fighting off a lawsuit. The facility made us purchase our own liability insurance, even though the company already had its own.
Chalk that up to another expense I'd rather go without but couldn't get away with avoiding. A girl had to eat—even the scraps that I fed myself with—and this spin job paid for my food and phone bill.
My anxiety increased when I noticed the girl in the back. She was completely slumped over, her head resting on the handle bars, not even bothering to cool down like my other students. Her shoulders heaved as she tried to drag air into her lungs. I bit my lip, debating whether to intervene. I could tell that she was a few pounds over her healthy weight by the way her clothes stretched just a little too tightly across her shoulders. This was not a class she should be attending. One of my coworkers had a great intro class that would be a better fit.
I straightened my shoulders, preparing myself for one of those awkward conversations.
"Hey, how are you feeling?"
The girl whimpered, but didn't lift her head to look at me. I noticed that her shoulders were shaking.
"Uh ... just breathe. I know this class can get a little intense. There's a great class on Wednesdays that you'll probably like. Lauren leads it really well and I think you'll like it."
She sniffled, still remaining silent. In horror, I realized she was crying. In all of my years as an instructor at various fitness centers, I'd never, not once, made someone cry.
Tentatively, I reached out and stroked her back as comfortingly as I could. She flinched, her back stiffening as I froze in embarrassment, but then she relaxed and I cautiously continued consoling her. We stayed that way for a few minutes as everyone else filed out, giving us curious looks as they went. Finally, she straightened up, brushing the tears away from what I realized was a really pretty face.
"Sorry. That was embarrassing. I'm okay."
"Do, uh, you want to talk about it? You're not dying, right?"
She laughed weakly, but in her eyes I saw devastation. "No. I'm not dying."
"Look, you know, I'm compelled to make sure you're okay. I don't want you getting hurt because of my class. If in the next few hours your muscles start hurting and, heaven forbid, your urine turns red—"
"I know about rhabdo. My muscles aren't dying," she snapped.
I stepped back, wondering who this woman was and how she knew about the muscle condition that sometimes affected inexperienced bikers. She must have noticed my startled expression, because she sighed and her shoulders slumped, as if she'd lost all will to continue.
"No, I'm sorry. That was rude. I just used to be ... a lot better at this. I knew better than to attend this class, but I just ... had to try. You won't see me again." She made to hop off the bike, wincing, but I threw my hand out to stop her. Something about her pain, the total despair, spoke to me. For some reason, something in me called out to this woman.
"Hey. Wait. What's your name?"
She stared at me, clearly debating whether to continue the conversation. "Sara. You can call me Sara."
"I'm Lena. Look, I don't know you, and you seem to be dealing with some stuff right now. But if you want, I can help you out. I don't do it often, but I can do private training if you're interested."
This time she did hop off, forcing me to step back so that she could gather the bag that she'd thrown at the base of the bike. "Thanks, but that won't be necessary. I know how to train."
"Uh, really?"
"Yeah, I know it doesn't look it. I appreciate your concern, but I'm really fine. Excuse me, I have another appointment."
I almost let her go, but in seeing the dejected slump of her shoulders, I called out, "Hey! Do you want to get a coffee or something? You look like you could use a friend, and to be honest, so could I."
She paused, then slowly turned around to face me. I tried not to flinch under her intense gaze. Sara studied me closely, but for what, I hadn't the slightest idea.
"I'll have to think about it. I've got a lot going on right now."
"Oh, okay," I said, mortified. I probably sounded like a crazy person, begging for a friend.
"No, I didn't mean it like that. I really do have some stuff to work through. If I change my mind, I can get ahold of you here, right?"
I nodded, unable to speak.
"Maybe I'll see you around again." Sara turned and, without another word, hustled out of the center. That was the only way I could describe it. She moved faster than I was pretty sure she'd moved during my entire class. Huh.
I stood, watching her pull out of the parking lot. Lauren, the fitness instructor I'd originally thought would be a better fit for Sara, walked up to me. We watched her pull out of the lot.
"What was that about?"
"I don't know. But she just seemed so sad. I don't know why, but I just felt like I needed to be friends with her."
"Well, you're a better person than me. I tend to leave the sad puppies alone."
I wrinkled my nose in distaste and made for my own vehicle. Perhaps Lauren's class wasn't suitable for Sara after all.
