The Push and The Pull

This bike makes me cry. Generally, I am non sentimental. I laugh inappropriately in movies when things are supposed to be sad, but come across as cheesy instead. I don’t cry in public, I save very few objects from the past, I don’t want to hug everyone I see, and sometimes, my introspective nature is read as cold. But, on occasion, my freaking exercise bike makes me cry. The perfect storm contributing to these eye sweats usually combines a big effort, a well timed song, and the instructor imparting just the right amount of truth serum at just the right time. When this hits, I am in a full blown, panting, ugly cry. It is the cry I need, it is the cry I want, and it breaks and then mends my heart in the best possible way. 

Peloton, I didn’t really know you until last year. To be honest, I really didn’t want to know you. Maybe I even felt a bit nervous to know you and really, what was the kool aid you were sending out to get so many people to buy your product? And do you have to wear those shoes to ride your bike? Maybe I was curious, but really, I didn’t think we would ever be such good friends. I misjudged you for sure, but really, I think what I’ve learned is that I misjudged myself. I didn’t know I could care or love the experience, the bike, the community, the passion for well-being both physically and mentally. I didn’t understand that the bike, and more importantly the instructors and people involved with the product could be so much more. 

So, when at the height of a global pandemic, wherein physical contact and group gathering was put on hold,  a group of friends started riding their Pelotons and hashtagging their successes and sharing the experiences, I decided to have a second look. Perhaps out of pure FOMO, I decided to jump on board with the Peloton app and the stationary bike I already had. They coined themselves #PeloBabes and I found myself in a community of support while quarantining in my home. I’m an anti-social, social person, and this was exactly what I needed. We sent texts, lots of texts in the beginning, encouraging, supporting, commiserating. We chatted about what we were doing on the bike, and off. It was therapeutic. It was community. I think it kept my head above water several times when I felt the tide of frustration or loneliness creeping in. As the year went on, and we were able to see each other in person more often, the texts became less often, but still now there will be the occasional ding inviting everyone to join in a milestone ride, or reminding about a new artist series coming up. 

After a year, I bought the Peloton bike myself, saving up to make sure that I would make good on my investment and finally deciding that I would since I had great success with the app for so long. I submitted to the clip on shoes and though it took me longer than usual to adjust to clipping out of them, I can happily report that now, I actually love my Peloton shoes. 

Today, I rode with Olivia Amato to the Justin Bieber Artist Series ride. Oh Justin Bieber, you’re such a cutie, and I think you are a talented artist, but it was by all accounts, a strange pick for me today. I’m a forty year old, mom of two, and I just  don’t listen to a whole lot of Bieber these days. (To be fair, maybe I should start.) So, I just wasn’t expecting that today would be the day that inspired me to write a love song to Peloton, partially influenced by the music I rode to. It was a random pick as I scrolled the artist series list and something made me think that it would just be fun. I knew today wasn’t a PR day. I knew it was a day I just needed to have some fun on the bike, to get back into a routine after a hectic week with only a couple of rides, and a full week off on vacation the week prior. And it was fun, and it was hard too. I did what I could, didn’t really keep up with the instructor today, but had fun and pushed myself to get back to where I know I can go. 

Then the cadence changed a bit, we slowed as the song transitioned and “Holy” started playing. I pushed and pulled and listened to the words, and listened to the instructor and heard Justin Bieber and Chance The Rapper take it to a whole different level. Maybe a minute into the song,  I just felt the tide of emotion push its way out from my chest and then out through my eyes, and I was in it. I was in the cry that is brought forth from this bike sometimes. I was in the cry that tells me that I am proud of myself, that this thing is so much bigger than just me, that tells me that music is a spiritual experience, that tells me that our connection between physical and spiritual is real in whatever way you understand it, that tells me that I am worth this emotion, that tells me that community is important and worth working for and investing in, that tells me showing up for myself and letting my heart feel whatever I’ve trapped inside is good for me, that cleanses me and refreshes me and reminds me that being able to move my body in this way is a privilege and that gratitude should show up even when times are challenging. I was in it. I was vulnerable. The bike made me cry again. Thank you Peloton, for the tears and the muscles, and the perspective. Thank you artists for allowing your music to guide us in our workouts. Thank you to my riding friends for showing me something new and being a supportive group of women! Thank you to the strangers on the leaderboard that send high fives. This bike is more than steel.   It is community, and I am here for it.