Road to Nowhere.

Writing Aside #25.

In the old days, all you had to do to stay in good writing shape was drink scotch and smoke non-filter cigarettes. Maybe play a little tennis, golf, or croquet. Or go hunting in Africa. But times have changed.

Ever since I gave up smoking 30+ years ago, I’ve played tennis, racquetball, and squash; done a little swimming and aerobics in a pinch; cycled several thousand miles, and walked/hiked countless steps. (Until recently, no one was counting).

At first, all this obsessive aerobic activity was essential to deal with the nicotine fits. But, while I’m no longer as obsessively frenetic as I used to be, I still find working out to be a critical part of the creative process.

For many years, biking has been my go-to exercise. But, in New England, there are many conditions in which only a few people would want to bike, and I’m not one of them.

So, a couple of decades ago, I swallowed my foolish pride and joined a spinning class where in 45 minutes, regardless of the weather, I could get totally out of breath and drenched in sweat, while listening to ear-splitting music and, if I may briefly impale myself on the double-edged sword of political correctness, a beautiful woman yelling, “What’s holding you back right now?!!!”

Plus, as with any exercise class, there’s a camaraderie forged by mutual suffering, excessive endorphins, and a lovingly passive-aggressive relationship with the teacher.

Compared to biking, spinning does have its advantages. You don’t have to worry about potholes, sudden changes in temperature, or drivers with cell phones—a lethal risk that is giving all bikers pause these days.

When Covid came, most spinning classes ended. Fortunately, I found myself with free access to a little-used Peloton.

I soon began developing superficial relationships with annoyingly positive, hyper-manic, and hyper-muscled 20- to 50-year-olds (who look 30) in New York and London who let me choose how long I want to work out, at what intensity, and what kind of music I want—although my options are somewhat limited because there aren’t many instructors who play “classic rock” and most of them think it was invented in the ‘70s.

For many people, the best thing about spinning and Peloton is that the really good teachers make the class a meditation. An opportunity to let go of the stresses of the day. To bring yourself back to center. To experience your body fully. To let go of “everything outside this room.”

Even though I decided long ago that “the now” was overrated—a nice place to visit but I wouldn’t want to live there—I actually do manage to experience my body fully present in the moment from time to time. Unfortunately, within a few more moments, I realize that my body really hurts. So I distract myself by pursuing my favorite exercise: thinking. About a description that’s overwritten; a transition that makes no sense; a character who isn’t saying what she really wants to say; how to end a paragraph that…that…that…well, you know.

Even though I haven’t gone anywhere, by the time the music stops and I get off the bike, I’ve at least made some progress.