Mistress Wendy laid down her unique brand of tempo riding torture tonight, and hit us with the most bizarre soundtrack ever. I was psyched for Glory Days, surprised, but pumped by Walking on Memphis by Marc Cohn, amused by the Crash Test Dummies (I turned to the girl next to me and said, "This is the kind of album you can buy at a gas station), and appalled by the God pop during cool down. I actually looked up to see if anyone else thought it was weird. Could Wendy be a gay ultra-marathoning Bible-thumper? I inspected the chains around her neck and thought I saw a cross in there somewhere. Marty, a regular, piped up. "Having some fun with the music, eh?" In the locker room, Lawrence speculated that Wendy was finding religion.The legs felt great tonight. My heart rate went up effortlessly, the sweat rolled off me, and the endorphins made for an amazing buzz. Sometimes spinning is fun.
Incidentally, I got DIRECTV to cough up two months of Premium channels (including soccer coverage) and a WHOLE SEASON of NBA League Pass. Not bad!
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