How to Go Nowhere Fast

It's dark. It smells like sweat. The music is pounding at 120 beats per minutes -- almost as fast as my heart as I rise out of the saddle to conquer the next hill. My thighs burn, I'm gasping for breath. The leader is yelling at us to go faster. There'd better be an ice cream stand at the top!

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Not to try buying trousers in January!

I am at my post-Christmas, non-cycling weight and size 34 ain't happening. Off to spinning class for me!