“I love spinning!”, “It will change your life,” and “I don’t know what I would do if I didn’t go for spin,” are phrases that I frequently get bombarded with by anyone who has ever stepped foot in a spin class. I always take it with a pinch of salt though. Besides, how much joy could rhythmic cycling possibly bring to one’s life?
But as the recent number of hospitalisations resulting from spin grows, so does my curiosity in the indoor sport.
Rhabdomyolysis syndrome, or Rhabdo for short, is a near-fatal form of muscle injury that an increasing number of spin class attendees have been experiencing. It occurs when muscles break down and release proteins that poison the kidneys through overexertion during exercise. The “classic triad” of Rhabdo symptoms includes muscle pain, urine discolouration, and difficulty moving one’s arms or legs.
As a part-time spin instructor and a full-time medical doctor, Rachel Chan sees both sides of the same coin.
“I have patients come in with Rhabdo and a lot of the time it’s from spin,” says Chan.
“It could happen with any form of exercise if your body is not used to the intensity of the activity.”
The 25-year-old instructor teaches several classes a week at Revolution and shares that the best way to avoid the muscle injury is to drink plenty of water and stretch thoroughly before and after class.
“It’s possible for some individuals to get carried away in trying to keep up with the class, so I always encourage my riders to go at their own pace,” says Chan.
Despite the risk involved, the popularity of spin has been growing in Singapore. Said to be the optimal cardio workout, spinning torches 600 calories an hour and sometimes more.
A typical class involves 45-60 minutes of high-intensity cycling in a dark room to upbeat music with strobe lighting to match — the ideal ‘party on a bike’ experience for those mourning the closure of clubs.
“I always thought it was a ‘basic white girl’ thing to do,” says graphic design student Ava Cheah.
“But after I started, I realised it’s more than that. It’s a form of self-love.”
The 22-year-old attends spin class two times a week and enjoys not only the physical but the emotional benefits that rhythmic cycling provides.
“Spin is like a community. Working out in a gym by yourself gets boring but exercising with a bunch of people to music is so much more fun,” Cheah explains.
Itching to experience it for myself, I grab my cutest pair of yoga pants and march down to Revolution for Chan’s 5.30 pm class.
Revolution’s Orchard outlet is surprisingly packed for a Tuesday afternoon. Lanky girls clad in multicoloured sports bras and skin-tight yoga pants weave in and out of the main hallway, swishing sleek ponytails knotted tightly at the top of their heads. None of them look a day over 25.
One of the receptionists, Germaine, shows me to the locker room. Popular names in music like Ariana Grande, Sam Smith and Harry Styles cover each locker door, likening the room to a musical Walk of Fame.
Scanning the names, I make a beeline for the locker with the name of my first love on it (Justin Bieber) and chuck my gym bag inside.
After selecting my spin shoes, which have triangle clasps on their soles to latch onto the bike pedals, Germaine escorts me into the studio.
Twenty-eight exercise bikes face a podium at the front of the room, each with their own pair of one-kilogram weights and grey towel to match the studio interior.
Propped up on the podium is an instructor’s bike and off it hops a high-spirited Chan, who introduces herself as my instructor for the day.
As she explains how to set up my bike, Chan turns what seems like a complicated set of knobs meant to adjust the seat and handle height. The information leaves my brain as soon as it arrives, but I nod along and hope that she doesn’t sense my nervousness.
At this point, a slight sense of uncertainty creeps up my spine. As someone who typically avoids physical exercise like the plague, I was in no shape to cycle intensively for 45 minutes. I push the thought to the back of my mind. There’s no going back now.
Eventually, the sports bra attired girls begin to trickle into the studio, one tightly wound ponytail at a time. As they find their bikes, Chan jumps back on the podium and welcomes them with an energized grin.
Slowly, the black roller blinds lower over the floor-to-ceiling windows and the room darkens. A surge of excitement (and a hint of fear) shoots through my veins in anticipation of the workout. Clipping my shoes onto the bike, I start to pedal.
Chan coaches us through a series of exercises, the first of which seems relatively easy to follow. As we mimic her choreography, multi-coloured lights flash across the walls and ceiling, coordinating themselves with the thumping beat of The Weeknd’s “Blinding Lights”.
Never missing a beat, Chan busts out power movements that require us to bounce up and down, side to side and push up against the handlebars in various positions while cycling.
“You are free to be who you want within these four walls, you can scream, cry, laugh - there is absolutely no judgement,” she says encouragingly, her voice booming over the music from the speakers above.
“You are exactly where you are meant to be.”
Surprisingly, I find myself really getting into it. I close my eyes and imagine that I am starring in Ariana Grande’s “Side to Side” music video, knowing that in reality I probably resemble a wild ape.
About 30 minutes into our workout, Rihanna’s “Where Have You Been” begins to play. “Get ready guys, we’re about to take on our first challenge,” announces Chan, instructing us to shift gears. The song intensifies over the speakers and it dawns on me that things are about to get intense.
Once the beat drops, Chan picks up speed and her legs soon become a blur over the wheels of her exercise bike. I pump my legs double time in an attempt to keep up, only to end up losing balance. Steadying myself on the handlebars, I peer over at the other riders to gauge my performance.
Much to my relief, not everyone was following the choreography to a T. Some pedalled at their own pace, others took water breaks in between, but most comforting to note was that everyone seemed to be focusing on themselves — too occupied to notice my inexperience. I decide to put less pressure on myself for the rest of the workout and focus on having fun.
By the time we complete the last exercise, I am sweating like a sinner in church. I dismount my bike with trembling legs and conduct a quick body assessment. Surprisingly, other than a slight ache in my arms and soreness in my nether regions from the hard bike seat, I remain unscathed.
To wrap up, Chan takes us through a few final stretches and the session concludes with resounding applause. The window blinds roll up to reveal giddy smiles plastered across blotchy and sweat-stained faces. Looking around, I can’t help but feel an uplifting sense of achievement. Finally, I understood.
Together with the rest of my fellow riders, whose once high ponytails were now askew, I drag my jelly legs out of the studio and look forward to a cold shower.
As I shuffle out of Revolution, Germaine waves goodbye from the front desk.
“Come again!” she says.
“Definitely,” I reply, waving back.
How much joy could rhythmic cycling possibly bring to one’s life? Plenty, if you ask me.
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Update: It's been 5 months of bi-weekly spinning and I still absolutely love it.