Give me your tired, your poor. Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.
This is one of my favorite quotes. I picture the Statue of Liberty, in all of her glory, greeting millions of immigrants as they approach the United States, full of hope for a new and better life.
It is also what was running through my mind during the last painful fifteen minutes of my first cycling class.
Tired, yearning to breathe. The huddled mass of sweaty cycling students, trying to mimic Mindy, the Taylor Swift/Beyonce-rolled-into-one instructor. Tell me again, why I am doing this at 6am??
There are some people who enjoy getting out there and sweating. I don't happen to be one of them. Any kind of prolonged exercise where my heart rate stays at an aerobically efficient level is pure torture for me.
Forget water-boarding. If you want me to talk, make me sweat for over 45 minutes.
My idea of exercise is a long walk around the Seventh Arrondissement of Paris, with a few espresso breaks.
I must admit, however, that after cycling, I was secretly proud to be one of the cool, sweaty, spandex crowd.