Resolutionary War...A view from the far side of the Gulf

Mean to post this in here but put it in the wrong place.  Just an interesting observation from this morning.

It happens every year.  New faces in the early a.m. spinning class where I find my cycling refuge from the cold of winter.  Inevitably the first week in January I have to remind myself to get there a little earlier to make sure I have a bike for the class, but to also make sure I am at the back on the class so I can observe the carnage about to be wrought on these unsuspecting souls I have come to know as the "resolutionaries".

They come in, confident but yet still a little hesitant.  But, c'mon its like riding a bike, how hard can it be.  Some come in in yoga pants, some in workout shorts, and some have done their online research and gotten themselves some cycling shorts.  Tennis shoes or "spinning" shoes they each find their way to a bike.  Lay their towel neatly across the handlebars and start to pedal.  You can see the relief on their face that their quads haven't instantaneously caught on fire as they settle into a pretty good zone during the "spin up" phase before the instructor arrives.  They dismount, and then remount several times adjusting seat height, handlebars, seat positioning.  Some getting it right, some just never quite getting it.

I admire from afar, their newly cemented dedication.  The desire to improve themselves, to take on pain to bring about reward.  Will it last?  For some yes, but sadly for most, their efforts will fade and their desire to make substantial change will wane.  I know from past history that their visits will become less frequent, their effort less enthusiastic.  I know this because I've seen it many times before, and have even been there before.

The instructor arrives and greets everyone and is excited to see the new faces.  Spending time with those unfamiliar to try and get their bike set up for them to ride comfortable.  She is especially chipper this morning, brimming with excitement and motivation.

And then it begins, heavy bass line music starts to pound and the instructor calls out a cadence and advises to adjust gears to meet it.  "Headwind-add another gear and maintain cadence!"  These new faces turn from excitement to a bit of worry furrowing their brow as lactic acid levels start to rise.  "False flat into the headwind add antother gear and drop 4 rpm...."  They hang on and labor valiantly trying to continue but if you look closely on many of them you can see the cracks starting to form.  Its sad really, you want to help, to offer some words of wisdom, something to get them through.  Unfortunately there is little you can do.  The fact of the matter is that they are in "the suck".  An expansive gulf where only pain, regret, and doubt reside.  We have all been there at one time or another.  You can tell them that there is another side to this gulf.  That everything they're feeling doesn't last, that reward and limitless opportunity aboud, but it doesn't matter.  A person can only find the other side by themselves.  And far too few of them possess the resolve it takes to get there.  Who will make it?  Who will last?

"Alright everyone pick up another gear its time to go climbing" the instructor calls.  For you its just another day, and nowhere near as tough as a hard road ride, but to these new souls the sadist up front has just cast them into the 3rd circle of hell.  Where demons with pitchforks tear at your legs, and set fire to your lungs.  You can see the visible agony in the persperation soaked faces that have been twisted into a now grotesque mask of pain.  Some bravely push on while others offer small surrenders of taking their gears down, and some even dismount and begin the walk of shame.

This cruel game plays out over the next hour and you see the once bright and burgeoning enthusiasm sucked from them.  The recovery breaks are met with sighs of relief and water is consumed in mass quantities.  Towels once perched on the handlebars pristinely are now drenched in sweat and flung haphazardly across the bars.  Breaths are now being sucked in and expelled with equivalent fury.  Heart rates are racing past limits that these folks have rarely seen in some time.

Mercifully the session finally ends and slowly the participants exit their chosen field of battle.  Like an Army in retreat some look broken, some defiant, and some in shock.  Will we see them back at the next appointed time?  Only time will tell.  Godspeed New Years resolutionaries, may your resolve outlast your doubt.