My friend Katie found out I was thinking about canceling my Gold’s Gym membership and switching over to the (much) less expensive Arlington County Rec Centers. “You need to come to spinning class with me,” she said. “This Wednesday is going to be the last one I can go to for a while because of work so you have to come.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe. Won’t it be busy because it’s the new year?”

“I’ll see you at 6:30,” she replied.

 

I headed over to the Thomas Jefferson Community Center after work this evening, wondering what I was getting myself in for. TJ is connected to a local school (unlike Arlington’s Barcroft Sports and Fitness Center, which I’d seen once before) so it’s a pretty low-scale affair; an indoor track, weight machines, free weights, a lot of cross-training machines, a stretching area, and some spaces for classes. It was that last place that was calling my name. I’d paid for a $5 guest pass and $3 for a single spinning class (there are discounts if you buy more), so this was it. I was committed.

Katie showed me how to put the seat and handles onto the stationary cycle; I’d put the handles on backwards, and then didn’t tighten the seat enough at first so that it promptly slid back down within about a minute of be sitting on it. This was why I finally decided to go tonight—not only because Katie might have beaten me up otherwise, but because I’d have someone to catch my stupid newbie mistakes in the act rather than after I managed to eject myself into the air halfway through the class.

I wasn’t the only new person either, happily. Two other people were also rank amateurs. I vowed to keep an eye on them, especially after instructor Theresa told me that if I needed to stop and sit down from time to time that was all right. I wasn’t folding if they weren’t.

At first it wasn’t too bad. We were 15 minutes in and I was pedaling away, trying to remember to keep my shoulders loose, push with my heels, and everything else that Theresa was telling us. Then Katie turned to me and said, “I hate you.”

“Huh?” I replied.

“You aren’t even breathing hard,” she said back.

Now, I had thought I was working pretty hard. But suddenly I had a flashback to speed training workouts back in 2005 with Rick W., who yelled at me as I ran past him, “If you’re laughing you aren’t running fast enough!” Well, clearly I wasn’t trying hard enough. So I started upping the tension. And then a little more. And then a bit more after that.

The next thing I knew, we were 25 minutes into the class and all I could think was the worrisome thought that surviving another 20 minutes might not be an option. And if I died, would I get a partial refund on my $8? Now sure, I could just turn the tension back down a bit and save myself. And it sounded good. But right then Theresa yelled out, “Sure, this could be easier but then what’s the point? Everyone would do this if it was easy!” And you know, she had a point.

So instead I gasped and grunted my way through the full 45 minute class. When it was over and we got off our bikes, Katie turned to me and said, “What did you think?”

“I ran 12 miles faster than I ever had before on Saturday,” I replied. “And this kicked my ass in comparison.”

Afterwards was perhaps the best part of the evening; stopping by Pio Pio on the way home and eating some Peruvian-style rotisserie chicken and rice. Mmmmmm. Provided my run tomorrow evening doesn’t involve me whimpering and limping a lot? I think I might just go back next week and see if Theresa will be even tougher on me if Katie’s not there to shield me. After all, half an hour into the class I saw Theresa walk around and increase the tension on some other people’s cycles. It could happen to me next time. I just don’t know if this scares or excites me.

I guess there’s one way to find out.

It seems I have a New Year’s Day ritual; brunch at the same restaurant, followed by going to a museum downtown. It didn’t even hit me until Karon mentioned this morning that I’d done the exact same thing three years in a row, but sure enough, it started in 2005 with brunch at Ireland’s Four Courts in Arlington and the Dream Worlds exhibit at the Sackler Gallery. 2006’s museum trip involved The Spirit of Ancient Columbian Gold and Nature’s Best Photography Awards at the Natural History Museum.

This year, brunch involved irish sausages, rashers, eggs, black and white pudding, home fries, toast, and a cup of the potato leek soup. A hearty breakfast, certainly, or at least one in which my pulse will be racing for quite some time as I try and digest all of that cholesterol and fat. A pretty satisfying way to start the morning, though, and we were seated right next to the fireplace which was particularly comforting. It was a foggy, misty, vaguely raining sort of morning in the DC area and it’s hard to get a more comforting place than Four Courts in the morning.

Then it was time to head downtown and finally see the National Museum of the American Indian. It’s rather silly the more I think about it, but the museum opened in mid-2004 and I think every year I’ve vowed that I will finally go and see it. In 2006 I ran right by the museum some 20-odd times as part of marathon training, and each time I would cringe and think to myself, “Why haven’t I gone there yet?” (I do remember trying to go on January 1st, 2005, but the museum was only a couple of months old and there was a long line just to get in.)

So, finally, the journey was made. It’s an interesting museum, and I’d heard a lot over the past couple of years about both its pros and cons with the way that its contents are presented. It’s a peculiar building, with the first two floors being primarily a cafe and two different gift shops, for instance. As you continue to ascend its four stories, you begin to see a wide variety of exhibits; ones about how different tribes and nations view themselves, their history, and the world. Some of the areas were fascinating, others felt completely flat. It’s a real hodgepodge of material to be absorbed.

There are some moments of real beauty there, like Preston Singletary’s Raven Steals the Sun sculpture, or some of the materials on display, such as a graceful flowing pattern of arrowheads that looked like rivers of stone. I’m still not sure how I felt about two of the areas where all of the items were displayed in a series of large glass cases (some with additional pull-drawers beneath them) and computer screens about five feet away that would give you information about each object. The wealth of information on the computers was impressive, and being able to zoom in on parts of the objects was clever, but it made me at the same time feel disconnected from what was on the computer screen versus what was in the case.

I’m glad I went, though. I’ve felt very silly to have not gone for so long. And, more importantly, I like having my New Year’s Day tradition. It’s a nice way to start both the day and the new year with a bit of grace, a bit of culture, a bit of comfort. It would be nice to be so fabulously wealthy that any day could involve this sort of life of leisure, but until then I’ll hang onto my annual date. I’ll certainly go to other museums over the course of the year and have nice, slowpoke mornings as well, but for some reason this combination just feels a little more special.

Happy New Year, one and all.