What to wear (and not to wear) in spin class

When I first started working out, I wore anything, and by "anything," I mean shorts and a cotton T-shirt. Over the years, I've started dressing for the specific activity (running clothes for running, cycling clothes for cycling / spinning, yoga clothes for yoga, etc.) and the reason isn't so I can single-handedly support the makers of athletic apparel.

Take running and cycling (or spinning), for example. You'll notice there is a significant difference between running and cycling tops (for women): running -- and other tops for random cardiovascular activities as well as your everyday tank tops -- are designed for the wearer who remains upright, while cycling (or triathlon) tops are cut very high at the neck, providing coverage for the user who is bent over handlebars. On the left, a running top, on the right a cycling (technically a tri) jersey:

It doesn't take much of an imagination to figure out what happens when a woman wearing anything but a top cut high at the neck leans over. In spin class where there are mirrors around the room, it doesn't, in fact, take any imagination at all.

Which brings us to shorts. When you're riding on a saddle that's getting up in there (and that's been up in a lot of theres as is the case in spin class), you want a little something between you and the saddle. Thus, bike (or tri) shorts offer a lot more coverage on the thigh compared to running shorts -- good for preventing chafing as well as separating church and state -- and they're also fairly high cut on the back so they don't gape and leave you with a breezy derriere as you lean over. Running shorts on the left, bike shorts on the right:

Lastly, shoes. Granted, a 45-minute spin class isn't exactly a stage of the Tour de France, so footwear isn't of paramount importance, but a stiff-soled cycling shoe will still give you a more efficient pedal stroke than a (relatively) floppy-soled sneaker. (Again, running on the left, cycling on the right.)

Also, cycling shoes clip in such that the pedal is under the ball of your foot, which generates more power than if the pedal is under your arch. Many people erroneously jam their sneakers all the way into toe cages so that the pedal lands under the arch of the foot, not realizing that it's more efficient to pedal with it under the ball of the foot. (Incidentally, the cycling shoe above is a mountain-biking shoe because I left my spinning shoes in the office. Because MTB shoes are quite heavy, most people prefer to spin in road or triathlon shoes -- not that it matters all that much since you're not exactly going anywhere on your spinning bike.)

In New York City, stores like Jack Rabbit and Paragon sell both running and cycling gear. Paragon also sells their goods online and Sierra Trading Post also sells a lot of running, cycling and triathlon gear at a discount, although they are absolutely the king of junk mail, so if you order from them, be prepared to get a zillion catalogs.

Why runners should appreciate cyclists

In addition to the whole tri thing, runners should feel a kind of kinship with cyclists, our fellow endurance athletes. After all, who else knows what happens when you eat too many gels? Come to think, who else eats gels that look like snot and taste worse? Unfortunately, many runners never get past the whole but-he-tried-to-run-me-over thing.

Runners never tire of complaining that cyclists "deliberately" speed up, for example, upon approaching the Columbus Circle entrance to Central Park, ignoring the fact that the approach is a decline and if you were rolling down a hill, you probably would, well, speed up ... gravity and all.

The key, really, is learning the rules of the road. Here are a few:

1. When running on a cycling path (yes, this is permissible since pedestrian paths are often solid concrete while bike paths are constructed of the much softer and foot-friendly asphalt), hug the right side (except on the Central Park loop and the reservoir loop in which case it's the left side), allowing faster runners and all cyclists to easily pass you.

2. If you must wear head phones, listen to the music at a low volume and be alert for bells, whistles, gear changes (that crinkly noise) or someone yelling "passing," "on your left" or just "left." If you hear any of these, do not stop to look -- make like Pavlov's dog and just automatically move right, out of the way.

3. If you're running on the road, i.e., with cars, run *against* traffic. Ostensibly this is so that you can see the cars coming towards you (and hopefully have at least a few seconds to get out of the way if someone is out of control). Ladies -- the added benefit of running against traffic is that you don't have drivers scoping out your derrieres. When you have the driver of an 18-wheeler honking behind you, you'll know why this is important.

4. If you do have the right of way, and the cyclist(s) is not paying attention, yell "Heads up," preferably at least one bike length from the cyclist so they have time / room to react.

5. Always look both ways before crossing a cycling path / road.

In exchange, you will discover:

1. Cyclists follow rules. After all, when you can reach out and touch someone while riding wheels the size of my finger, you tend to be a little more careful about things like rules. Thus, cyclists ride in the proper lanes. They know signals (voice and hand). They use signals (voice and hand).

2. Cyclists know when they're wrong. This morning for example, running along Hudson Terrace in Englewood, I snapped an annoyed "Heads up!" to an oblivious cyclist. Rather than responding with something along the order of "F- you," he instead mustered a cheerful, "Morning!" I almost felt guilty for my impatience.

3. Cyclists make way for others. This may seem hard to believe, but I've had riders at the heads of pelotons signal to other riders to move aside for me.

You will also discover that the loneliness of the long-distance runner is not quite so lonely when you have cyclists whizzing by (or giving you a thumbs up as the case might be).

P.S. Tourists are not cyclists. Have fun with them.

Pedestrians beware

I was watching the NYC Half Marathon this morning and rollerblading past Chelsea Piers when I saw a woman walking two huge dogs (by "huge dog" I mean "small horse") in the race. I mean the runners were on the West Side Highway. So was she. Next to the runners. With her two small horses. Anyone who has ever run or ridden by a dog knows that these animals tend to lunge toward fast-moving objects near their heads, so walking dogs in a race is right up there together with not saying no to drugs.

I thought Horse Walker might just be oblivious to the race, so I called out, "You're in the race!" To which she responded, "I'm crossing the street." (Whatever she was doing, there was no crossing apparent.) And then she retorted, "Mind your own business, please." Now, I'm not a nosy person, but when you're doing something that spectacularly idiotic, it becomes everyone's business.

Most pedestrians are pretty careful around cars, but when it comes to bike paths, they inexplicably treat them like sidewalks. Bike paths ARE NOT sidewalks. Think about it this way: if there was no bike path, cyclists and skaters and joggers would be riding / running in the road, alongside cars. So unless you're prepared to walk your dogs -- or push your stroller -- in traffic, stay off the bike path.

Ironman, here I come

I learned how to ride a bike this weekend. I don't mean I learned how to race, or how to clip in with cycling shoes, or how to work the gears on a mountain bike. I mean I learned how to not fall over while making the bike go forward -- what the rest of the world learns at approximately the age of five. I think I was the only adult Chinese person on the planet who didn't know how to ride a bike.

No one actually believes me when I tell them I can't ride a bike because, after all, I spin. A lot. When I take spinning classes with teachers who don't know me, they inevitably come up to me after class to ask which group I ride with. (I do hill climbs particularly nicely, thank you very much, Versus.)

The last time I tried learning how to ride a bike, my friend rented a bike and took me down to the pier by Chelsea Piers. I tried pedaling (and falling over) several times before getting impatient and strapping on my rollerblades -- a far more successful endeavor. The icing on the cake was when a man in a wheelchair -- he'd been observing me fall repeatedly -- offered some tips. You know you're doing a terrific job riding a bike when you need advice from someone who can't walk.

A couple years ago I signed up for the Nautica-New York City Triathlon, hoping that the race (by which I mean the exorbitant race fee) would force me to learn how to ride. I ended up losing the entrance fee. Finally, sidelined by plantar fasciitis, I decided it was now or never.

I looked up Terry Chin, who's been written up multiple times in The New York Times for his riding lessons for adults. Saturday morning, I met up with my class. Aside from the fact that Terry really gets a kick out of making fun of you -- *exactly* what an adult who doesn't know how to ride a bike is looking for -- the two-hour lesson ended with me (and most of the rest of the class) riding out of Riverside Park.

Sunday, I decided to attempt Central Park, which was possibly not the best idea for my second day on a bike, but I figured, why not aim high? After several false starts (and many startled pedestrians), I was up and running (so to speak). Voila:

You may be wondering why exactly I require a helmet to ride at the bone-chilling speed of five miles an hour, but in the words of my colleague, "It's better to look like a fruit than end up a vegetable."

What I do when I'm not running long on Sundays

Since my physical therapist has forbidden me to run for the time being, I've been cross training at the gym -- lots of swimming and spinning and weights and time on the elliptical and ARC trainers -- and this also means no more long runs on Sunday mornings. So instead, I've been pounding the pavement looking for apartments. (Probably "pounding the pavement" isn't the best thing to be doing on plantar fasciitis-aggravated feet, but at least I'm not running.) Unfortunately I can't consider these hours of walking cross training (my heart rate never surpasses 60 percent of its maximum when I walk -- yes, I've measured it -- so I'm not even burning fat calories let alone working out my heart and lungs), but I like to consider it five hours of at least dynamic stretching.

Now, the first thing you notice about the New York City real estate market -- well, the second thing after the exorbitant prices for tiny apartments -- is that listing agents lie. About everything. Like a two-bedroom apartment doesn't actually have two bedrooms. It has one bedroom. And a dining area the tenants have turned into a bedroom for a three year-old. (Or a doll or some other being that doesn't exceed 24 inches in length.) Of course, the game is up the second the potential buyer walks in -- it's not like you can actually keep up the charade that the breakfast nook that holds all of a potted plant is actually a bedroom. So why not just call it like it is?

Apartments that actually have two bedrooms are, in fact, called "true" two bedrooms. The implication being that this listing agent is actually telling the truth? So it's okay to lie? Does it also work if you lie to the mortgage broker about your salary? And your credit history? What fun that would be.

Then there's the "just minutes from the subway" line (most of New York City being slavishly dependent on the subways) that agents love to trot out when describing apartments. A fair number of these listing agents need to seriously reassess. Take it from this marathoner that a mile from the subway is not a walkable distance twice a day, five days a week for the average commuter and that walk certainly does not fall into the generally accepted definition of "minutes." Can I say it took me "minutes" to run the New York City marathon? I mean, just 244 of them.

And lastly, I'd like to sound the wake up call to the condo developers who remain convinced their target demographic consists of hobbits. This is not so. I should not have to suck in my stomach when mounting the stairs. Nor should I ever find myself standing in a bedroom the size of my gym locker. And those tiny little sinks you find in bathrooms in Chinese restaurants? Not luxury condo material. Really, folks.

Time to learn how to bike

I've had plantar fasciitis in both feet ever since I ran 13 miles on faux trail (concrete sprinkled with fairy dust) back in March. Now, I really feel quite special because plantar typically affects only one foot.

I tried stretching -- much to my 60 year-old male doctor's amusement, I'm less flexible than him -- and icing my feet (to reduce the inflammation) and massaging them (to break up the scar tissue that had formed in my heels). I like using the Trigger Point roller / balls to massage my feet, but you can also save yourself money by using tennis balls or soda cans (or beer cans if that's more your speed) which allow you to ice and massage at the same time. Also, try filling a Dixie cup with water and freezing it for a larger chunk of ice than what you'd pop out of your ice tray.

My feet got a little worse (apparently when the doctor said "take it easy," he didn't really mean "run 20 miles a week") then a little better, but never healed up completely. So I went to a sports medicine doctor -- Blue Cross had better not have been lying when they said I didn't need a referral because my primary care physician has not yet discovered multiple lines, voicemail or call waiting and can only be contacted by carrier pigeon -- who told me part of the problem was that my glutes were weak and my calves were overcompensating. Funny, because whenever local gentlemen issue unsolicited commentary on that part of my anatomy, "weak" is generally not a conclusion at which they arrive. Ah well.

Sports Doc forbade me from running, recommended physical therapy (I start next Monday, bright and early) and suggested I buy splints to sleep in. They arrived today:

Seriously. I thought she was talking about those wonky socks you see advertised in places like Runner's World or Outside. If I'd known she was actually talking about these sexy puppies, I would have saved the money and planned to take my ski boots to bed.

Wick this

After running in a torrential downpour one evening last week, I exited Central Park with a friend. Scott looked down at his feet and announced they were soaked. I swore up and down that mine were completely dry except for a little dampness at the toes (where, incidentally, I had holes in my running shoes). So I thought it was a little odd when I got to the dressing room at the gym only to find that my socks were, indeed, soaked ... until the next morning when I got up only to find that my sneakers were drenched -- tops, bottoms, insoles, everything. And that, my friends, is why the Powers That Be make moisture-wicking fabrics. I give you the Balega socks:

I'm not sure whose brilliant idea it was to go to South Africa for technical socks (where they're made), but they work wonders. My Balegas provide a lot of cushioning, in winter they keep my feet warm -- including the time I ran a 10-miler in 11-degree weather and ended up with frostbite on my derriere -- and in summer I don't get hot. I bought mine at the New York Running Company.