The reason I woke up was the screaming alarm on my phone announcing that it was time to go to Flywheel. During my drunken bedtime routine, I laid out my spin clothes and my shoes, so clearly I really wanted to go. This is like that one time when I woke up wearing my gym clothes because I was afraid I'd oversleep for the Holley Mangold seminar. What can I say? I'm special.
So I'm dressed, I get in the car, and I consult the park instructions that I saved in my calendar invite. Midtown one-way streets and random ass parking entrances confuse the beejezus out of me so I reached out to the Flywheel Midtown team and received a detailed email back. I realized that the street I thought went right actually only went left (not while I was on it, I realized this as I drove down 10th Street, thank God), completely throwing off my understanding of the directions. I turned around 4 times, and then finally said fuck it when I got concerned that I'd be late and told I couldn't go to class. I parked in a residential building parking structure in the visitor spot and I am in no way sorry. Who is visiting at 10:30 in the morning on a Sunday who isn't there from the night before?
I finally made it to class. Josh from CFID was teaching and I was really excited to Fly with him even if my brain thought it was going to slosh right out of my head.
|Josh and I outside of the studio at the Midtown location|
But no seriously. Since I arrived ready to throw up on myself and about to pass out over my handlebars, it is a testament to Josh as an instructor that I was able to get through a kickass ride.
Reserve your bike at Flywheel Midtown.