“You know, if we got off our arses we could have both – drop twenty pounds and enjoy a good meal and a pint now and then.” He then issued a more specific challenge: if I sussed out the schedule, he’d join me for an early morning “spin”. It so happens that equidistant between our houses is a great bike shop that offers spinning sessions. I’d heard about spinning from Carol, who is a spinning-zealot, but I was always a little apprehensive. Images of myself receiving CPR in a puddle of my own sweat while a bunch of yuppies dressed in multi-coloured lycra looked on always kept me out of the spin cycle.

But Barry’s challenge pushed me over the edge.

Cut to he and I, bleary-eyed and slightly hung-over, standing in the dark of early morning, wearing gym clothes that were wrinkled from 4 years of rolled-up slumber. We were greeted by Joanne, a lithe instructor who recognized our virginity and declared good-heartedly that we would probably “cough up a lung.”

But we didn’t. In fact, I have to admit that while it was a bit of work, all in all—it felt great. I began to understand why people love it. The music, the push and pull of Joanne’s pacing, the communal experience of people with varying fitness levels virtual-riding together: it’s invigorating.

I always shy away from making pronouncements of conversion. But we did commit to going again, after some business travel and scheduling snafus get out of the way, and I think we will. In fact, I think we’ll go quite a few times, and maybe be a bit better off as a result.

The last thing Barry said to me, noting that I had picked up the tab and he would repay me on the next go ’round, was that as long as he owed me, I’d never be poor. Well, I do owe him. I owe him for prompting me to get off my arse and giving spinning a whirl. It’s great.