‘Can’t wait to see you waddle into the office tomorrow’ was the text I got from my colleague after a session of Flywheel. This new sport, without want of a better comparison, is a combination of a spinning class crossbred with a heady nightclub. It’s a winning combination if you’re up for a gruelling 45 minutes of punishment.

Oblivious to what the next three quarters of an hour would bring

Oblivious to what the next three quarters of an hour would bring

It’s a Sunday and no fool should do what I’ve just done; effectively push my body to a pretty tough plateau, without any alcohol or illness to blame for the subsequent feeling of nausea.

Flywheel is an intense workout. You get clipped into the pedals with your new cycling shoes, the room switches from exercise studio to disco vibe and the session inevitably starts enthusiastically. As time wears on, the ache in my legs and the nagging voice in my head tells me I can’t go on and wonders why I was so stupid to not ask how to remove myself from the clipped pedals.

With little option but to push on, I force myself up on the level of intensity and the reps per minute to find myself moving up nicely on the leaderboard from my original starting position of 10th place (last place). The leaderboard is perhaps one of the most ingenious things about Flywheel. It is so aptly placed at key intervals to offer healthy competition between you and your fellow riders; helping to drive your legs to circle even faster.

I’ve heard the phrase that if you’re sweating, it means your fat is crying. At Flywheel, without lie, both fat and muscle were crying! I finished up red-faced and in 8th position by the end of the session. After checking up online, I was astonished to discover I’d ridden a staggering 18.5 miles (incredulous…perhaps there’s a glitch in the system?), and burned around 630 calories.

The comedown from the ride was, in fairness, a bit of a rollercoaster. It took a full 15 minutes for the euphoria of such an insane workout to kick in, after which I was tempted to go clubbing, but my sensible side convinced me that a shower and a cuddle with the cat was more appealing.

So, will I be returning for another Flywheel fix? The answer to that question is still open ended, but I’m pretty confident it will be answered tomorrow morning when I can barely move my legs…waddling indeed.



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