Contagion

Atop bike  #41 left me far enough away from spreading too many microbes in the direction of my spin mates this past Monday morning. Another round of bronchial asthma had me just a bit curtailed in giving my usual fanatical effort in the Queen of Spin’s class.  I love that back corner position in what is left field of the CS because it gives me a great view of almost everyone in the class except for Kristen. It felt surreal from that vantage point as my upper respiratory infection simulated a dose of sensory deprivation as well as me desperate to stay in the breathless zone.  

Now I don’t see myself as a narcissist but next to that full length wall mirror it’s hard not to take a look at my physiology which for all intents and purposes has seen a metamorphosis in these past few months. I used to have a ripped thoracic wall up until age 45 until a self-imposed 7-year sentence on the elliptical left me more paunchy than at any other point in my life since my college years.  And because of this regimen taking my shirt off this summer was something I did with regularity and even though Kristen says it was me who put in the effort there is no way I could have felt this good about my body as I do now without her adroit instruction. 

 I am 20 months in now and I can say with a deep conviction that spin has awakened me to my new life that is now upon me.  And as I celebrated my first year as a sexagenarian I almost can’t believe I am born again.  If indeed my spin stories have come to an end it was one helluva ride.  

My Spin Shoes

Resting comfortably in my walk in closet upstairs haven’t they haven't  had to do much this past week. In fact I am sure just a bit of dust has started to collect on my shoe tops since I left them flat footed on Monday.  I suppose that I haven’t forgotten how to put them back on and clip myself into my favorite Schwinn, but that’s not what worries me.  

What does worry me is that my stories, my little vignettes about this passion have run its course.  In the beginning it seemed that I had a treasure chest that was bottomless and that no amount of words could ever describe the feeling I got before during and after a class with either Kristen or my co favorite Tripp Doherty.  

There could always be another story for me to write and who knows maybe there will be but maybe just maybe this blogger needs to get on to more serious subjects like My Life After AA or my real passion to finish writing that mystery novel that I started 3 ½ years ago.  Have I run out of gas and like Captain Kirk asking Scotty to run engines on impulse power? Maybe my warp drive at least for spin class needs a new set of dilithium crystals.  

For more Jack Briant   http://jackbriant.blogspot.com/2011/09/stuck-on-230.html

The Story in Your Eyes

Sometimes we cannot see what our eyes are saying, but our minds manipulate our feelings so strongly so adeptly that the power play releases the strength to change the shape and hue of our eyes which in turn governs what the rest of our face looks like.  And that face illustrates for us as to how our body contorts.

We can tell the story that we are struggling to breathe, to accelerate and give ourselves enough reason why we shouldn’t add more ‘road’ when Kristen asks us to. These vignettes are perfectly legitimate because the excuses are justified we tell ourselves. However, they are just that, stories and they are just pure fiction, even though we swear they are gospel.

The story in our eyes is there for anyone to see but only we can change the script. So we might as well tell the story the way we want it to turn out. 

The Arctic Zone

It’s Saturday and it must be time for KSC. And I hate to give such secrets away but bike #25 is perfectly tuned in terms of the pedal stroke and the red resistance wheel was smooth as silk.  Which brings me to the thought that I don’t pay enough homage to those that service these Schwinn’s and I do so right now. What we do to those bikes based on how we ride presents no small task to the technicians that keep them up to our speed for each session. Too often we only hear the complaints and I am just as guilty as anyone. Nonetheless I thank you one and all. We do have the most conscientious “Maintain” staff here at EQ and I try to acknowledge them everyday because without them we don’t have the immaculate conditions we all enjoy and rely on.  

My young friends Ari (sans Lizzie) and Deepak were here today and it is good to see the young Lions taking on the Queen of Spin in the most grueling of exercise sessions on Long Island.  Often I see those scrunched up expressions as the effort is ramped up in this class and I can hear Kristen’s words echoing urging us to relax our face muscles because we don’t ride with our face. Sometimes nonetheless we must be consciously aware what our body tries to tell us even though it serves no purpose. Better we ease up on the resistance wheel than engage in torture in areas that do not serve us.  

We do feed off each other’s energy as KJ exclaimed today and people are watching us and that is why we give the kind of effort we do and engage in the integrity she often speaks about.  

KJ Airlines

As I failed reveille’s call at 6:30 Sunday morning I was relegated to the final 13 that opened at 8:00 this morning. Surprised was I that at 4 minutes after I was able to find an open bike and spied that invisible Schwinn #41 in the back left corner and scooped it up quick.  Kristen as I have told you in an earlier post has to physically get off the bike or crane her neck to see the inhabitant and Ms. Curiosity pegged me before her flight lifted off the tarmac.

However, 41 is a great vantage point to see across the back row and the two miscreants Don Berman and Harold skylarking it up throughout the hour.   Laurie Doyle sandwiched between the two kept the conflagration under control. And Don Berman was getting way too much attention this morning from Ms. James. “Don Berman you look so good”. Don Berman this Don Berman that. Good God you would think they were lovers or something. 

I can see why some like that back row. There’s no one behind you, the windowsill is there to put all your ‘stuff’ on and it was a nice break from the front row where I usually find myself. Mary McCann was one row in front and I told her after we had some spirited confabs this week that I was revoking her halo for at least a month. Maybe Mary is no angel as Kristen has tried to tell me on numerous occasions but Mary is one person I would love to have in a foxhole next to me if the need ever arose.  

Salti Road

What never ceases to amaze me is the fitness levels that EQ and more specifically the group fitness manager demands of her staff. Lori Salti is yet another example of group trainers that talk the walk and walk the talk.  A phrase I borrowed from my days in A.A. but it serves to encapsulate the protocol that we invariably find here.  

Lori is a student as well as a trainer and that serves to make her the best she can be. I have found her in her limited down time in Tripp’s class for example wherein I am sure she can model some the success that he enjoys with those that are devoted to him. She certainly has the acumen for spin and I love the way she models other successful trainers and puts her own “spin” on her call. The choreography is eclectic which always takes courage and as she has evolved in the months this year her style is unmistakable Salti.  

She implores us to be the best we can be and you can feel the spiritual side of her as well. I got to know her father for fifteen years and this man is a gentle soul who always had a good word for everyone he worked with. Lori has that same palatability but never lets us forget what we are here for and that’s to get fit and that is never an easy task. There is no pussyfooting in her class but you can still feel the gentle soul of her Dad who I think gave her the appeal and innate charm she possesses. 

Lori Salti give her road a try and find you took it just a bit further than you ever thought you could.  

The diminutive dynamo, the White Angel a.k.a. Lori Salti took center stage today come back later for her featured story.  

P.S.

I am in the process of adding "JackTalk" to all my blogs. Some have told me that they don't necessarily possess the time to read during their busy lifestyle. I with the help of my friend Peter Charles will add a feature that will enable you with one click to  let you hear me read each post with the inflection in which I write it. Hopefully it will make you listen as well as read. 

Miss Fire Island

And now for something completely different…This past Saturday had me revisiting an event that I have been absent from for some 15 years. It was the Miss Fire Island contest. For the uninitiated this is a beauty pageant with a twist. All the contestants are men vying for this coveted title dressed in drag. 

The festivities, held at the Ice Palace just up from the ferry is no palace and the Grove Hotel which it is apart of except for a recent facelift was termed even by the locals as the classic ‘dive’ in fact the Fire Marshall’s made the owners redo the wood flooring that was showing signs of age albeit one day before the contest.  Nonetheless the Ice Palace is high camp and this weekend had the breeders (heterosexuals) overrunning this small hamlet reserved for alternative lifestyles. Cherry Grove, a delightful respite from the high tension we all experience back on the main land is a place where virtually anything goes and most probably does. The people are so laid back that you just feel comfortable as soon as you step off the boat and as my friend Bobby says there is no judgment here life goes on in an idyllic setting where you are free to express yourself from the deepest part of your imagination.  

The contest featured 33 different performers in different categories and some of them were more than reasonable facsimiles of the intended gender they were trying to emulate.  Some of the hairdos in fact were taller than me and the dresses looked like Gianni Versace originals. Now some may not be fans of Drag Queen contests for a host of reasons but judging by the reaction of this crowd they loved it.  The runway walks alone were not to be believed and when the entertainers did their shtick lip synching their act into their acrobatic fandango the crowd with a little help from the demon rum were collectively oohing and ahhing.  

The 2nd runner up and runner up were Elvis Presley like in that they were “pretty” and this years winner, Logan Hardcore had the countenance that rivaled some Prom Queens.  I missed two days of spin and after the Corso Zone today I made up for it in no uncertain terms.  

And as the raucous behavior escalated as the contest drew to a close and more alcohol was consumed it had some of the local inhabitants collectively sighing that this happens but once a year.  We breeders as my friend affectionately calls us can be quite the pain in the ass if you catch my drift.