Impress me.

I’ve been an avid ‘spinner’ for years, as in indoor cycling.  It’s like a gym mini-cult.  Gym goers are like a clan, and spinners are like the cult within a clan.  And if you happen to be a part of the yoga faction – like mio, you’re like, in the faction and the cult within the clan.  We’re very exercise elitists.

Over the years, I’ve noticed a trend.  Cancer survivors turned bicyclists.  Thank you Lance and your girly yellow bracelets. 

I’ve got nothing against cancer survivors.  A lot of my family has cancer.  I will probably have cancer, although I do everything prevent it, like not have testicles or smoking or believing in lung cancer (p-shaw!) and wearing always sunscreen.  And I’d totally eat anti-oxidants, but I always forget whether or not ice cream is anti-oxidants or anti-anti-oxidants.  I eat ice cream regardless, in large quantities just in case.  Which means I have to work out.  A lot.  More than I currently work out, but I’m not obese, yet (damn fatting ice cream anti-oxidants).  And we come full circle to the spin class.

My spin class is early, 6:00a.  I get up at exactly 5:30a and am on my indoor bike by 5:50a – I live super close, I am lucky.  And since this is still early and I’m off caffeine, I’m not the most social person (ever) while I’m warming up.  But people love to talk to me.  And I hear, quite frequently, about how they took up cycling while recovering from chemotherapy.  It’s always some sob story “Testicular cancer, blah blah, almost died, blah blah, inspiration to live, yadda.”  I grind my teeth and feign a smile and pump my little legs.  Not impressed.

Why can’t cancer survivors be unique?  It’s bad enough how prevalent cancer is, but why do they all jump on a bike?  I’d like to meet a cancer survivor turned WWE wrestler.  I’d like to hear the story of how they became inspired to live by watching Triple H smack around Mankind and then took up wrestling.  Cancer has no hold on them anymore, now they are living for the WWE Divas, and cancer can’t take that away from them.  At 5:50a, I’d like to hear that story.  I'd be impressed.

Additionally, after testicular cancer, do you really want to stick your nads on a very hard and uncomfortable bike seat?  Yesterday I had to hear some dude’s testicular cancer to mini-Lance story and I kept wondering, are your nads, like gone?  That may be an idiotic question, but I don’t have nads, but the spot where nads would be hurts.  From going up and down on that bike.  Soon it will become numb, but as a dude, do you really want your nads, if they are still attached, to go numb?  Ever?  I wouldn’t.  If I was a dude with nads, I don’t think biking would be my hobby.  And I’d never want my nads to be numb.

I don’t want to hear anymore cancer turn cyclist stories.  What if I told them my “I almost died and turned to cycling” story?  All the sudden I’m turning to them saying “No WAY!  I almost died too!  Coincidence, I think not.  Mine was ‘cause of an ectopic pregnancy.  Horrible.  Excruciating pain, worse than anything I’ve ever felt and I have a huge pain tolerance.  Go ahead, pinch me.  No one even dies or almost dies from it anymore, except me!  They operated on me, had to remove my left fallopian tube!  Through my stomach, eww!  Gross I know.  Now I probably, more the likely can't have little me's now.  Can you?  Do you have nads?  I took up cycling because I developed an eating disorder as I coping mechanism and cycling was my blossoming exercise addiction.  But it’s ok, I’m totally healthy and well adjusted now.”  Gasp.  I lose another potential cycling friend. 

Sigh.  Even I’m lame.  I better brush up on my WWE wrestling moves.