Three sprints in, she came up to me to strap me in properly. Oops. There is a velcro belt that is meant to wrap loosely around your waist to hold you into the machine as you lean forward, running in place. I had only secured half of the fasteners, as I was not shown how to get settled in, and wondered why she took so much time with the heart monitor instead.
Next, I noticed the air mat continued to pop up out of the machine as I ran. I had to continuously stop my workout to kick the mat back into place. No one else seemed to have that issue, though, and after 10 minutes or so she remembered that the machine she led me to had a tear in the mat, so she moved me over to the next one.
After a few hiccups, I was still ready give it my all. Sadly, the workout felt constricting and disjointed. It was taught in the same manner as a spin class, and the instructor rarely left her machine to correct my form. And when an incredibly large, alien piece of equipment is involved? I never knew where my footing should start or end. With all this unanswered confusion I rarely found myself in the orange heart rate zone. Finished, I unclipped my belt, grabbed a latte from Eva’s Cafe and headed home.