BLOG HIJACK by Mélissa
Some of you have been part of this journey with me from the very beginning. It’s hard to believe, but this week marks the four-year anniversary of my very first spin class.
Looking back, I remember that first session so vividly. I started with just one class a week, and honestly, the goal was simple: survive. I spent most of that hour trying not to vomit, faint, fall off the bike, or get my feet tangled in the pedals. It wasn’t exactly graceful, but despite the struggle, I kind of loved it. I thought it would be a great summer activity but there was no way I was getting up at 5:30 for a 6:30am spin class in the winter. But guess what? I did. Over and over.
I wrote a piece a few years ago about the impact a great instructor can have on a room full of people—how they push us to find more in ourselves than we thought existed. Four years later, I’m still here, and I’m fully “in.” I’ve moved from one class a week to three (sometimes four).
But this journey has never really been about the numbers on a scale. For me, it was always about “future-proofing.” It was about having the physical capacity to chase grandchildren who hadn’t even been born yet. It was about balance—knowing that if I fall, I have the core strength to get back up. It was about simple things, like walking up a steep hill or a flight of stairs and not being completely breathless at the top.
The physical markers of my progress are certainly there. When I started, I was lucky to clock 15km in an hour, and when the class stood up to ride, I stayed firmly in my seat. And that seat? It hurts your butt after a while. It forces you to want to stand up. Today, I’m consistently hitting 25 to 28km in that same hour. I stand right along with everyone else, I’ve increased my watts, and—the ultimate test—I can spin with just one leg (which is significantly harder than it sounds!).
However, I want to be clear: this wasn’t a perfectly straight, upward-sloping line on a graph. It was a messy, winding road. There were weeks of plateauing, weeks of fatigue, and, at one point, a broken foot that sidelined me entirely.
Just like the rides we do in class, my journey was a series of hills and flats. There were moments of momentum and moments where I had to fight just to keep the pedals moving.
We live in a world that craves instant gratification, but I think we often forget that meaningful change takes time. Real growth requires setbacks. It requires the determination to show up when you’re tired, the conviction to keep pedaling through the “hills,” and the grace to forgive yourself when you have to take a rest day.
Four years. It sounds like a long time, but it’s just the blink of an eye when you’re building a foundation for the rest of your life.
If you’re currently in the middle of your own “first year” of something and wondering if all the sweat and struggle are worth it—or if you’re staring down a setback—let this be your reminder: Change does happen. It doesn’t always happen quickly, and it rarely happens in a straight line, but if you keep showing up, the strength will come.
Keep pedaling. The view from the top is worth every drop of sweat.