RPM and Some Self Discovery

I'm doing a really bad job of writing regularly. So here's my second post today in an attempt to make some amends.

Less than a year ago I was in the midst of a five-week odyssey that took me to the paradise of Costa Rica, the northeast US, Los Angeles, Vegas, the Grand Canyon and its surrounding desserts, the nation's capital, and the Appalachian mountains. I traveled without agenda, and whatever plans I did make were subject to change on a whim. I've seldom felt more alive. I've never felt so free. I've never been more...me.

Things went south in a hurry after that. I'm not going to get into the details, but a few things happened at once that really threw me off track, and it has been a downward spiral ever since. My hope was that moving to New Zealand would galvanize me out of my rut, but instead, things have just gotten worse. There are a lot of things going on, but what it essentially boils down to is this: I haven't felt like myself since I've been here. Life is losing its zest; it tastes bland. I'm losing my passion and thirst for adventure. I lack the willpower to make myself act to make things better. I often find myself pulling away from my friends and roommates. A sense of futility dogs me perpetually, and has for most of my adult life; since I've been here, the cloud has been suffocating. When I look in my soul's mirror, I see a husk of the person that I should be, that I long to be, that I was such a short time ago.

Ironically, it was RPM that threw me a lifeline. For those who don't know, RPM is a group stationary bike fitness class set to music. I kind of stumbled onto it a few years back, and it didn't take long for me to get hooked. I toyed off and on with the idea of getting certified to teach, until I finally decided to take the plunge shortly after New Year's.

I attended my initial training in late January (you can read that tale here if you haven't already) and came out of it full throttle. They give you three months to submit a video of yourself teaching an entire class; if the assessor thinks you're good enough, you get your certification. Within two weeks of my training, I was ready to tape, both in my own estimation and in that of my friend Rodney, who is a Master Trainer with Les Mills (the group that produces RPM and various other group fitness curriculum). All the instructors I team taught with said the same thing: you're ready.

And yet, something wasn't right. I quickly realized I wasn't having much fun with it. I started questioning whether or not if I belonged up there guiding people through their workout. Did I have the right personality and mindset for this? Did I even care about physical fitness? In essence, was I trying to make myself into something I'm not? These questions dogged me to the point where, the day before I was supposed to tape, I just shut down. I canceled the taping and stopped teaching; I didn't even go to class as a rider. During that time, I had no idea if I would ever pick it back up.

Eventually I started feeling the RPM itch again, and my friend Amy called to see if I could help her out by teaching half of her class the next day. I agreed, and just like that I was back in the saddle. But I was inconsistent. Some days I felt excited, and some days I couldn't wait for the class to end. I eventually submitted a video I wasn't very happy with the day before it was due.

I remember the turning point vividly. I had subbed an early Monday morning class for an instructor I didn't know, and it went horribly. I had no energy, the riders didn't seem to like me, and I left convinced that I had no future in RPM. Later that morning I got a call from Amy asking if I could sub her class that night. I tried to talk her into getting someone else, but eventually I reluctantly agreed. So there I was, once again back in the saddle because of Amy. During one of the more intense songs, I spontaneously sang out, "Feed the fire; break your vision; throw your fists up; come on with me!" along with the music. My class almost booed me off the stage! One of them made tomato throwing motions at me, and several others quickly followed his lead.

That was when it clicked for me. See, I'm a better frisbee player when the sideline---and the other players on the field...on both teams---are heckling me. Apparently, the same is true with RPM. For the first time, I really relaxed. I realized that, while I'm clearly not your prototypical fitness instructor, I could be myself and make it work. After that night, I started goofing around a lot more whenever I taught. I got a bunch of funny looks, but people enjoyed my classes and I enjoyed teaching. But even then, I wasn't sure how much of a future I would have in the world of riding a bike to nowhere. It was fun, but it wasn't doing much in my soul.

I passed my video and received my certification eight days before I left for New Zealand. Upon arriving in New Plymouth, I discovered, much to my dismay, that there are no official Les Mills gyms here.* My internet searches for gyms with any kind of indoor cycling came up empty. It was like a punch to the gut. One of the reasons I had worked so hard to get my certification was so I could teach in New Zealand, and that suddenly seemed out of reach. It was then that I realized just how badly I wanted it.

*[Les Mills is a former Olympic body builder from New Zealand who devised a number of group fitness programs, including RPM. Les Mills fitness is huge here in Kiwiland.]

Several weeks went by before I met a local guy named James who told me that the best gym in town was called Rampage, and he swore it had group cycling. So I checked it out. Turns out Rampage is an independent fitness center...and it uses the Les Mills program. Not only that, but one of their RPM instructors had just announced she was moving away, so they had an immediate void to fill. Two days after I talked to the director, this happened:



After my first three songs, my class looked like they were about to die. My fourth and final song frequently asks the question, "Can you read my mind?" so I said something along the lines of, "I can read your mind---you're thinking, send this guy back to America where he came from, cuz we don't want him!" Someone responded, "How did you know that's what we were all thinking?" Kiwi hecklers!

My time in New Zealand hasn't been anything like I envisioned, and most things haven't gone like I wanted them to. I can't change that. As much as I'd like to, I can't even flip a switch and change my mentality. But what I can do, and what I think I need to do, is rediscover myself. I need to rediscover the passion that used to fuel everything I did, a passion that is currently buried beneath layers of disillusionment, shattered hopes, emotional scars, and betrayals. It's not going to be pleasant. It needs to happen anyway.

RPM isn't the solution to all my problems. Not even close. But it was a lifeline when I really needed one. During this time when I feel like I'm losing every part of me that matters, RPM is a link to better days. It's something I care about and that I'm good at. Ironically, this thing I questioned so thoroughly whether or not it was "me" has become an anchor I can cling to as I try to rediscover myself.

Last night I decided to try something else as well. At this point, if I were to attempt to describe my religious views, most days it's some warped deist/agnostic hybrid with a fascination for the life and teachings of Jesus. But despite my heresy and frustration with the Christian religion, I find that, at my core, I'm still very much a theologian. So this afternoon I checked out two theology books from the library. I don't think I even care which way they steer me in relation to the faith of my youth; I just hope the process of re-immersing myself in the world of theological academia after several years off reignites something in me.

It has been a long time since I handed out a Rockstar award, so I'd like to give one to Amy Henderson, who had my back all the way through my RPM journey. If it weren't for her encouragement and assistance, I might be in an even worse state than I am now. So congratulations Amy on being the first ever repeat winner of the Rockstar.