It’s been a long time since I’ve had the pleasure of writing one of these. Trust me, I have plenty of old stories in the vault, but I just love when a new one develops right before your eyes, and it’s blogging gold. This is precisely what happened just yesterday, when I was teaching spin class.


It started off as a completely normal class. I was setting up my bike and chatting with a friend who was in the front row about tag sales. She recently cleaned out her mom’s home and we were swapping stories about the horrors of putting stuff on e-bay and having estate sales because people are so creepy and weird. This became a perfect segway into what happened next.

A guy who I have never seen in my class, or in the entire gym for that matter, suddenly spoke up. Until that point I had just been casually chatting with my friend who I’ve known for years. I was now on my bike and it was nearly time to start class, when he said:

“Oh I have a good story about tag sales.”

um, ok

“My wife and I had one when we lived in the middle of a tobacco field.” This is actually not weird. There are tons of them in my town. #healthy

But this was weird:

“So these two Mexicans ride up on bikes. Or I think they were Mexican…or Dominican or something like that. My wife had this sewing machine that was still in the box, never really been used, and they were interested in it. I think they lived, you know, down in that (inaudible) area.”

Um, where? What’s happening?

“And they just bought it and rode off on their bikes, carrying it like a boom box on their shoulder. After a few minutes I noticed they didn’t take the foot pedal, and it won’t work without it, so I tried to go down there and find them (I still haven’t a clue where “down there” is?) but…and I hate to say this…but they all look the same. I ran into another one of them and he said he would give it to the guys but, you know, I’m not sure they ever got it.”


Now, I’m in a class of about 10 people. I’m also pretty sure I look like I could be Mexican. I’m perched on my bike, jaw dropped, trying to figure out how this guy thinks any of this is appropriate, and deciding between saying something or just starting class.

This was my face and yes, I look just like Halle Berry.

This was my face and yes, I look just like Halle Berry.

I decided to cut him off before he could get started on religion or politics and turned the music up.

Don’t worry, it gets weirder.

First of all he’s one of those guys that just assaults a bike. He was riding it like a maniac – not enough resistance or way too much, speeding way up and then nearly stopping, bad positioning – the whole thing. There’s also a TRX rack above the row of bikes he happened to be sitting on and he kept reaching up and grabbing it with both arms and doing this weird stretch. Like though the entire class.

One of the regulars in my class kept looking at him and then me and smiling. I was just shaking my head and hoping he wasn’t going to start taking again!

Instead, after a particularly hard set of sprints about halfway though class, he chugged his water bottle until he drained it, threw it on the floor and then took his hat off and whipped it across the room.

I’m not even close to joking.

I know it’s April 1st, but this is actually my life.

Who are these people and why are they in my class? If people want to be racist and start segregating, can we start with all the freaks? Thank you.

What do you do (if anything) when people tell inappropriate stories?

What’s the weirdest thing you’ve overheard at your gym or anywhere else?