Whenever I read reviews after the fact, the comments always mentioned how much they loved the workout, and how good it was to feel the burn. I could do these classes with my eyes closed, but it certainly wasn’t the same as an actual bike ride around the city, or a fifty-mile competition with a group of speedsters.
As I walked back to the locker room to clean up a bit after the class ended, someone called out to me.
“Hey, Kenny! Wait up.”
I stopped and turned to see a guy I’d glimpsed at the back of the room during the spin session. He was as sweaty as I was, maybe about my age, with a receding hairline he kept up with by sporting a closely shaved head. He wasn’t conventionally handsome, but he had a nice, friendly face. When he smiled, it lit up his gray eyes, making them sparkle. He was as slender as I was, with a compact, fit frame that was pleasing. We were even the same height.
“Hey, man.” I wiped my sweaty face with a towel as I waited for him to continue.