My good and very energetic friend Gloria was entirely responsible for convincing me, after my epic Zumba Fail, that her cycling spinning foundations class would be good for me and my weight loss/fitness journey. I pleaded the case for my dodgy knee and wonky hip but she was having none of it, and somehow despite vague memories of a Very Painful Spinning Class around the turn of the century, I was signed up.

The dreaded day dawned, and clad in my Matalan leggings (getting looser so something’s working) and lightest wick-away-moisture T-shirt I shakily climbed the gym stairs to the cave, aka the cycling studio. Gloria and I headed to our preferred back row and she took me through the highly technical process of Setting Up The Bike. Seriously, the display screen would not have disgraced the flight deck of Concorde.

Other cyclists appeared, wearing suspicious looking shoes with cleats(!) and clutching padded saddle covers. Worrying!

“Right,” said the instructor, “do what you can, but don’t stop. If you stop you will lose all your data.” Apparently your data cancels out the remembrance of screaming thighs and rivers of sweat rolling down your face. I added a mantra of my own: “Don’t. Fall. Off.” I did not want to end up starring in my own Tom and Jerry-type cartoon.

I hunched down over my handlebars in my best imitation of Laura Kenny and got going. Suddenly I experienced a flashback to my 1970s student life and the 1970s discos as the lights dimmed, spotlights flashed, and hearing aid busting music pulsated from the speakers. Our instructor bellowed her commands:

“Up a gear”, “Down a gear”, “Stand up”, “Sit down” and in a weird parody of a Saturday Night  Fever routine we were encouraged to wave our arms aloft!

Things I learned:

· Standing up is good as it gives your (ahem) undercarriage much needed relief.

· My massive weight will not tip the bike and cause it to crash into the row in front.

· Playing Mozart on the piano in the morning and then cycling to Thrash Metal in spinning class has significantly broadened the boundaries of my music appreciation.

· I NEEDED padded cycling shorts!

By the end of the session I had earned calories equivalent to a Mars bar. Barely alive, I tottered (only slightly deliriously) down the stairs on wobbly legs to the changing rooms. Gloria and I high-fived each other. We had survived. We were still alive! I may even go again…

Fiona Lau