In the same inexplicable and deeply personal way that some people think the texture of tomatoes is disgusting and others find dolls creepy, I have an aversion to cycling outfits the garish graphics on shiny fabric, the way the padded, clingy shorts make the wearer appear knock-kneed and incredibly well endowed, the obnoxious click of the footwear when not clipped into pedals and, perhaps most of all, the (ugh) wrap-around glasses. I know theres utilitarian rationale behind each of these sartorial blunders, but that doesnt change the fact they exist.
Its for this highly unscientific reason and the fact that spin classes tend to happen inside and I prefer to exercise outside that Id been avoiding them. Until one very dark and rainy night when, lured by the challenge of burning 600 calories in 45 minutes, I clipped into a bike at .
Mike Porter, the marathon runner and cycling enthusiast who founded the studio, affirms the rumours. Its an intense workout.
A row of tightly-clad buttocks are lined up on bikes in front of me. Why wouldnt someone just bike the seawall, or up Cypress, I wonder aloud to Mike.
Even when the weather is nice for riding outside, we have a lot of customers because they get a good workout quickly, he replies. Theres no coasting in a spin class because there are no traffic lights or stop signs. It would take much longer than 45 minutes to exert that type of energy, that fast. [by biking around] the city.
That considered, its a bit surprising that Cadence is Vancouvers sole spinning-only studio. Sure, some gyms pack bikes between the free weights and elliptical machines and put on spin classes, but at Cadence the sweaty behind of the person in front of you isnt as close to your nose as other places. The bikes at Cadence are staggered in rows, four across, 25 in total. Large speakers dangle from the ceiling and blast out club-type tunes with big beats and an industrial-size fan keeps air in the cozy space flowing. Everyone signs up online for the class, eradicating that first-come-first-serve nonsense that invariably results in my being turned away from one class a week because I wasnt there early enough to get a spot. (Read: waste of my time.)
Our instructor, Heather, instructs us to pedal. We start with a mellow push that gets the quads warmed up but within 15 minutes were doing sprints, more sprints, then holy-crap-my-legs-are-burning sprints, and altering between sitting and standing to pedal.
Heather leads us up and down hills by advising how to adjust the tension on the bike with an easy twist of a knob. She counts us calmly through each sprint and ascent, and tells us that the ride were on today is inspired by a route she has pedalled up Mount Baker. I concentrate hard on pushing down on the pedals and then also pulling them back up, a trick to get more of a workout. There are no annoying lights or indicators on the bikes that track my speed or count the kilometres Ive clocked, but if the sweat dripping off the tip of my nose is any indication, Im burning some solid calories.
The intensity of a spin class equates closely to a tempo run, with little impact on the joints, Mike tells me. He once took a few months off running after a marathon and found that, thanks to spinning, when he finally ran again his active heart rate was close to the pace it was at when he was at the top of his marathon training. I knew [spinning] would help but that was a very pleasant surprise.
Hes not the only one pleasantly surprised. After class I feel good. The next time Ill push even harder, now that I know how quickly the 45 minutes sped by.
Would I substitute spinning for anything that involved getting out into the sunshine? Hell, no. Would I add a couple spin sessions a week to my workout program, knowing that I could get in and out in less than an hour and have gotten great cardio benefits? For sure I would. Just dont ever expect to see me in those cycling shorts.
106-1529 W. 6th | 604-800-8535 |
