Shooting with (Patreon)

Nastya Mihaylova

Yesterday I went to indoor cycling for the first time in my life. Turns out “being skinny” and “being fit” are two very different concepts.

For the past few months, I’ve been trying to take care of my body - doing home workouts or dance fitness. And the key word here is, of course, trying. It usually works for one or two weeks, and then something happens. I don’t know what exactly - life, weather, Mercury in retrograde, the universe testing me - pick your favorite excuse.

So I decided it was time to change strategy. Group workouts. Leaving the house. Buying a cute workout outfit that you actually want people to see. And most importantly - having a trainer who believes in you way more than you ever believed in yourself.

Our friends have been doing indoor cycling almost every day for the past six months and talk about it like it’s not a workout, but a new religion. They sold it to me instantly.Also, the phrase indoor cycling sounds very nice))) I mean, how hard can it be? You just pedal to music for 45 minutes. Romantic. I was genuinely excited.

And then… the day arrived.

The day I realized my physical condition is mostly aesthetic, not functional. I felt like a complete weakling. A fragile creature. A sausage with zero muscles and zero endurance 😄. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but I truly believed I could at least keep up with everyone for half of the class. I pedaled. I waved my arms with tiny dumbbells… for about five minutes. FIVE. MINUTES. And yes, I wasn’t the only thin, non-muscular person in the room - but everyone else calmly finished the entire workout. Meanwhile, I switched into survival mode - sit down, breathe, don’t pass out, don’t traumatize the instructor. Standing while pedaling was no longer an option, so I stayed seated and focused on one very important thing - oxygen.

By the way, for the first time in my life I experienced actual sweat. Not metaphorical sweat. Real sweat. Flowing sweat. Very strange, but kind of fascinating.

When my personal moment of public shame finally ended, I got off the bike and almost collapsed. My knees were ready to bend. They just weren’t interested in straightening ever again.

And then came the final blow. My friends - who are, by the way, a bit on the chubbier side and completed the whole workout like champions - told me that because I was new and had never done this before, the instructor intentionally set a slower pace so I wouldn’t get scared. I thought they were joking. But .... no 🥲. It was the most polite yet brutal hit to my self-esteem I’ve ever experienced.

That said - the experience was actually fun. I got emotions. I got new sensations. But I also realized it was way too fast for me. Too intense. Too much “go-go-go.” I want movement that’s calmer. More conscious. Less about speed and achievement, and more about actually feeling my body.

So I’ve made a very mature decision. Next stop - Pilates 🧘‍♀️

Because if I’m going to die there, I’d prefer to do it slowly and with dignity))