Cody Rigsby, my Peloton instructor, a Hercules in Lycra, is correct. I can get up this hill. Furthermore, I can’t let Cody down.
You don’t want to disappoint someone who calls you “boo” on a regular basis. “Get your life together, boo!” says Cody. I dig deeper.
I push those pedals. I climb the hill. I attempt to get my life together. “Proud of you Peloton!” says Cody. It might be the Britney soundtrack, it might be the endorphins coursing through my system, but for a moment, at least, I believe him.
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