Icing-less bun

This morning I overcame some serious inertia to go to a spinning class. It began at 9 a.m. which, for many of you, is not all that early and might even be considered decadently late for some. For me, however, it was a bit of a coup to get up, spend an hour meditating and writing, have a pre-breakfast of a grapefruit and some tea and walk to the class.

I've never "spun" before. Averse to fads and a bit leery of gyms and indoor exercise that requires equipment, I had dismissed this activity out of hand. But this studio, Spynergy, was offering a free first class and it seemed worth checking out. Three of the five students were brand new and the instructor patiently showed us the proper sitting position. We began with easy cycling as we stretched our upper bodies and breathed deeply, much like I would in a yoga class. The music du jour was R&B, and towards the end of the class we climbed out of our seats to "Ain't No Mountain High Enough", all the while maintaining the correct posture. I appreciated the instructor's attention to our alignment, essential to avoid stressing and injuring the knees. And despite our request that she not tone down the intensity of the class for the neophytes, the instructor kept the class mild enough that, alas, I didn't bust a gut or break much of a sweat. After the class ended I asked the teacher if she ever used Latin music to accompany the workout. Turned out she is a techno-pop and R&B woman but she suggested that I take a class with Anna, whom a student affectionately described as merciless. Sounds good to me!

To reward myself for my early morning adventure I stopped into a local bakery to pick up the carbohydrate, or second course, of my breakfast. I spotted what looked like fruit studded rolls on a bottom shelf and asked what they were.

"Hot cross buns," said the employee.

"Can I buy just one?" I asked, noticing that they were arranged in groups of six.

"Sure," she said, after checking with the manager. "Do you want me to ice it?"

"No, thanks," I replied. I didn't really need the extra sugar or to be reminded of the crucifixion while munching away.

The hot cross bun, which was neither hot nor crossed, was light, moist and delicious.