Throughout high school, I was an athlete. Swimming consumed all my time afterschool. I was in shape and competitive for four years straight. It was thrilling, yet exhausting. I felt the highs of standing on podiums and unveiling my name on a record board, but I also found myself crying from exhaustion after multi-day meets. It was all too familiar, the highs and the lows. When I found myself walking across the stage at graduation, and looking back on all of my memories as an athlete, I didn’t feel sad. I felt relieved. I was done. No more chilly mornings having to jump in a pool. No more days in the weight room after school. No one was pushing me to stay in shape and that felt great.
It was in this moment, as I was consumed with relief that I stopped exercising, that I fell out of love with working out. I still ate healthy meals because it was something I genuinely enjoyed doing, but I could not get myself back into the pool or the gym. What followed could only be explained as a lack of motivation and self-contempt. I was at the bottom of a hill, looking up. And I had no desire to get up that hill. How come most of my friends were going to the gym every day? Why did they still enjoy doing that? Weren’t they burnt out?
It wasn’t until winter break between my first and second semester of sophomore year that something clicked inside of me that hadn’t clicked in a long time. I went on a trip to visit my best friends in Omaha, Nebraska. The two of them, twins, love to work out and encouraged me to tag along with them to a workout class. Reluctantly, I decided to go with them. We pulled into the parking lot of a place called CycleBar. I had no idea what I was getting myself into. All I knew is that there were stationary bikes that we would be using. They had me change into specialized shoes and explained the basics of how to work the bike.
“Just focus on yourself, listen to the music, and do what feels right,” my friend said.
I trusted her and for 45 minutes, I was on my bike pedaling to the beat of the music. During any cycle class, the instructor will work with two different techniques: sprinting and hills. Sometimes they just want to see how fast you can pedal for a certain amount of time. Other times, they want you to add resistance to your bike to simulate going up hills and then they will ask you to take away the resistance on your bike to simulate going down hills. The class ended and they asked me if I liked it. I didn’t really know how to put into words how I felt. I was so sore and tired, but I felt, simply put, alive.
After graduation, I was at the bottom of that hill, looking up. It was daunting as I began one of those uphill rides. My own resistance towards working out was on the highest it’s ever been. My legs were pushing, I was sweating and trying to get myself up that hill and back into a solid working-out routine. However, I didn’t make it up that hill and experience the jubilation you feel on the other side until my first cycle class. After CycleBar, though, I had conquered that hill that I made for myself. I found myself on the other side with new motivation and a new outlook on exercise.
Several weeks later, I returned to CU Boulder for my second semester of college. I immediately looked into cycling classes in the area and was thrilled to learn that the rec center offered hour-long cycling classes most days of the week. And better yet, it only costs $30 per semester for unlimited class access. All of this, combined with my close proximity to the rec center, made this decision a no-brainer for me.
I have been going to cycle as often as my schedule allows me to. I do occasionally see myself facing more hills in my fitness journey. Sometimes I have had a bad day and don’t want to show up to class or I feel sore. Sometimes those Colorado winters create literal hills of snow that I have to navigate around to get to the rec center. At the end of the day, though, I always feel my best after I go to class. Powering through the pain while listening to great music with other motivated people is a feeling that is unmatched. I feel as though I can face any hill, no matter how large, and overcome it, time and time again.