I did the hardest workout of my life this week. I admit that I undeerestimated the process. My son’s girlfriend was completing her certification as a spin class leader and she invited us to her final exam. It’s the only time men are allowed at the gym so I jumped at the chance. I was curious about spin class, having heard about them for years, but never actually seen one. I thought it would be difficult. I was wrong. It was way harder than difficult.
Two minutes into the forty-five minute session I knew I was in trouble. The pace was fast. My legs and lungs wanted to go slower. I did not want to look bad, pride is an ugly thing, so I pumped my legs to get onto the right rhythm. The music was exciting and fast. The energy in the room, palpable. After just a minute, we went into an intricate set of choreographed routines. Riding faster, bobbing up and down toward the handlebars like doing push-ups. We were up out of our seats. I’ve watched the Tour de France and felt like we were riders in the Pyrenees Mountains struggling to reach the summit of a long hill climb, but the summit was thirty minutes away and shrouded in darkness.
I tried to disconnect from my legs and lungs. I kept telling the nerve endings to fire, to keep the muscles lengthening and shortening. I concentrated on the screen trying to sync my RPMs with the beat of the music. I cheered for others, riding the course with me. I looked into the mirror. What was a 59 year old doing among all these young people? I checked the clock. There was still twenty five minutes to the end. I kept spinning. Then we started new exercises. We kept our legs moving and began to exercise our arms and shoulders with resistance bands. Each time I lifted my arms the bands felt heavier and heavier. I tired, but I could not keep up.
Mercifully, I reached the finish line. I unclipped my feet and wobbled next to my bike as we stretched and cooled down. I drank my water. I dried off my bike. I shuffled to the door. I was amazed at the level of fitness in the room. I knew I pulled down the average. It was a lot to take in. When I slept that night, I slept hard. I woke up in the morning. My muscles decided to go on strike. It’s apparent that they are going to take off the rest of the week.
Spin class was fun. It was exhilarating. It was exhausting. I would love to do it again. It was hard, but I did it with others who were cheering me on and not judging me for not succeeding. It was more than I expected, addressing muscles my regular workouts don’t ever touch. It was a wake up call, I thought I was in better shape than I am. Every time I massage my hurting muscles I keep saying to myself, “Worth it.”
The next few months of church are likely to be hard. None of us were prepared for “After Covid.” It’s a wake up call of sorts. We have the glorious Gospel of Grace. We have each other. Those of us that have chosen to be First Baptist know that having a missions driven, service oriented church is not for everyone. We still need to serve. We know that having multiple services that meet lots of different worship needs is not for everyone, but it is for us. We know that having a multigenerational, multicultural church is not for everyone, but it is for us. At the end of the day when we look back on this moment and we rebuild our church we will be able to say, “Worth It!”