Feel Good Training: Cowgirl thighs and learning to let go

Question: What sixty second workout will make your thighs burn, your core ache and your fingers bruised for days afterward?

Answer: Riding a mechanical bull!! (duh)

Somehow, around 11:00pm last night, I found myself standing in line holding a five dollar bill and a contract releasing the Saddle Rack of Fremont, California from all liability concerning the ridiculous acts I was about to perform. In front of me is Nick, the boyfriend of one of my clients (who has become a dear friend), eagerly detailing the finer points of his bull-riding strategy and plans for total bovine domination. Behind me are two scantily clad girls who look like keeping their eyes all the way open is challenge enough at this point in the night—I sort of wish they’d go before me, because I think they’ll probably make me look good in following.

After watching Nick’s respectable run, I take a deep breath and hand my money, my release and my dignity to the man in the control booth. “Listen,” I tell him. “I’m a personal trainer and I don’t have disability insurance, so if I get hurt, I’m not going to be able to pay my rent.”

He laughs. “Just keep your legs forward and let all the movement happen right here,” he says, gesturing to his pelvis. Hmm. I’ve got hips and I can shake it with the best of ‘em. I should be able to handle this.

No one told me how hard it would be to get on the bull, especially after doing a self-servingly large dose of triceps dips the day before. I manage to pull a beached whale meets Spiderman kind of move, though, and get myself righted on the bull without too much trouble.

I was surprised, honestly, at how determined I felt during my “ride.” I swear I clenched my inner thighs tighter than Xenia in Goldeneye. (Xenia is one of my favorite Bond villains, for obvious reasons. Check her out here). I gripped the handle on the back of that bull with gusto normally reserved for the passenger side door of my car when my boyfriend is driving. I was really and truly motivated. I was also a little tipsy and way too competitive for my own good, but who’s keeping track?

Believe it or not, I got bored on that bull. I think the man in the control booth underestimated me—I could have handled quite a bit more buck than he was dishing out. When I finally started to slip of toward the side of the bull, I had a short conference with myself.

“Rachel,” I said, “you can be the girl who wouldn’t give up and ride the side of this bull for a while. Your shirt may fall off and you may not feel your legs for a couple of days, but you will have the glory of being Little Miss Can’t Let Go. Otherwise, you can roll off onto those nice soft mats and go finish your beer with your friends.”

I think it’s pretty obvious what I decided to do. Even I know when to throw the towel in (most of the time).

My legs are killing me today. My inner thighs have the kind of fatigue that means things are going to get worse before they get better, and my lower back and abs have the tingly reminder that activity occurred there recently. Both of my pointer fingers are bruised where my Death grip met the handle of the mechanical bull. There's no denying it: on a Saturday night, out with my friends and three drinks in, I managed to get in a workout, and it was fantastically fun. How awesome is that?

I’m posting a video of my cowgirl experience—it is of unfortunately hairy quality, and in chunks, as it was taken with a digital camera. I have to say, I feel pretty good about my attempt. My core is a little floppy, my legs don’t stay forward and my form can definitely use some work, but I’m smiling through pretty much the whole thing and I think that’s kind of cool. And next time? Totally doing the “air lasso” with one arm.

Round #1--Ding!