Broomfield – Let’s get something straight. I don’t bike. Heck, I’m from L.A., and my idea of exercise is weaving my car through traffic.
But as a newcomer to Colorado, I couldn’t help but notice the popularity of outdoor sports, specifically cycling. You hear names such as Chris Carmichael mentioned and you realize Colorado is a mecca of cycling.
But health and fitness centers such as the Lakeshore Athletic Club have put a new spin on the sport. Using projectors, the club beams the previous day’s Tour de France on the walls, and with the help of instructors cyclists experience the pain and exhilaration Tour riders feel.
So far, more than 100 cyclists have signed up to feel the burn.
“It’s everything I expected and more,” group exercising director Jacki Gardner said. “I’m pleased with the results and how people plan their days around it. It’s well received and people have a great time.”
Classes are held up to three times a day and end Monday, the day after the Tour. Other area athletic clubs have similar programs.
Lakeshore is at the forefront of a trend that gives cyclists a first-person Tour experience. As an incentive, cyclists get a chance to win colored handkerchiefs representing categories such as the fastest sprinter or best climber. At the end of each hour-long class, the top cyclist wins a yellow “Livestrong” Lance Armstrong bracelet.
In my first session, after finishing the eighth stage, all I remember is the sound of bikes whirling, hearing my neighbor panting and smelling the perspiration off another rider’s body. Most of all, I remember not being able to walk or sit down.
But I had fun and gave it another shot a day later in the ninth stage, Gérardmer/Mulhouse.
To mirror the Tour, cyclists are broken up into teams such as T-Mobile and Team Discovery and are given corresponding colored handkerchiefs.
In walks fitness instructor Dan Moulton, who has been a cycling trainer for 20 years. Turns out he’s a major in the Army reserve.
“They’re a living part of the race, internally,” Moulton said. “The whole goal is getting people out of their comfort zones.”
After three minutes of stretching, the pain is on.
“Out of the saddle,” Moulton orders. “Feet are flat, knees are in.”
We all up the resistance as if we are the ones riding up the mountain. I shift my weight to the right side and then the left as I pump my legs to try to gain rhythm and momentum.
“Feel the goodness,” Moulton yells.
The only thing I’m feeling is the pain.
Every time he tells us to reach and increase the resistance, I look at the resistance knob and hesitate. “Spinning is what you make of it,” says Julie Hinckley of Superior. “If you don’t work hard, you won’t get anything out of it.”
I reach and turn the knob clockwise.
After a quick water break on the flat roads, Moulton shouts into his microphone that we have another mountain.
“Dig, dig, dig,” he says.
I’m digging myself a hole. I almost don’t want to reach for the next notch on the knob, but Moulton comes over.
“Come on, let’s go.”
I hesitate, but turn it. He leaves and returns to his bike.
“Let’s go! Out of the saddle, back down. Up and down. Come on, hold the cadence. Up and down.”
I feel as if the tendons in my legs are going to snap.
The music kicks up a notch. As the Black Eyed Peas’ “Let’s get it started, in here … And runnin’ runnin’ and runnin”‘ blares, everyone can feel the music uplifting their spirits. It helps us push.
“It’s so much better going to a class that motivates you than going on something like the elliptical,” says Katy Smith of Denver.
It’s exhausting trying to stand and pedal your weight. I’m leaning on the handrails. My toes feel like they are going to rip through the front of my shoes.
The music stops and the only voices we hear are Moulton and the TV commentators.
It’s the home stretch and Mickael Rasmussen of Rabobank is nearing the finish line. Everyone speeds up despite being drained.
“It’s like you’re racing against the guys. It’s empowering. You want to get to that finish line with them,” Smith says.
We see the finish line.
“Get there! Kick it up,” Moulton says. “You can do it.”
“It’s a lonely ride,” the commentators say as Rasmussen coasts to the finish line.
It’s not lonesome, not for us. We finish together.
Rasmussen crosses. His hands are up in the air. It’s over.
I’m wiped out. I tell myself I’d never do it again.
A day later, watching the Tour on television, I’m ready to go.
Bryan Chu can be reached at bchu@denverpost.com.
