Cult (noun): 1.
A system of religious veneration and devotion directed toward a particular
figure or object 2. A relatively small group of people having religious beliefs
or practices regarded by others as strange or sinister. 3. A misplaced or excessive admiration
for a particular person or thing.
Whilst trying to
describe your willingness to cough up $30 for a 45-minute spin class to a group
of football players, it’s hard to find any other appropriate word for it. I never thought it would happen to me, “rational Al” as I’ve been known to
be called. Let me tell you how I got sucked
into the cult that is Soul Cycle.
It began
innocently enough. I’d resisted
the entire summer in New York, unwilling to risk over drafting my bank account
in a city that was seemingly robbing me blind ($19 cocktails at The Rose Bar,
I’m talking to you). But opening
at the Stanford Shopping Center in December, Soul Cycle was all anyone could
talk about. I figured that I
could manage to pay $20 for the discounted first-time ride just to see what it
was all about.
I wasn’t
soul’d. The clean yellow and white
décor was nice enough and the merchandise trendy but I couldn’t quite
understand the hype. I didn’t find
my soul.
That is until I
met Chris. It was like love at
first sight (until I saw the wedding ring). While other instructors acquiesced about the need to stay on
beat, Chris demanded precision.
Everyone must peddle on the same foot. There really is something to be said about the power of 50+
people riding together with you. And
providing electronic remixes to Destiny’s Child’s “Say My Name” and Rihanna’s
“Pour It Up” made it all the more fun to push yourself that much harder. Oh, and the moment when he points to
you as an example for the entire class to follow? Priceless.
The entire
process goes a little something like this: Set an alarm on your phone for 11:58
am on Monday morning to ensure you get your
bike when sign-ups open at noon.
Sign up for Chris’ Friday and Saturday morning classes despite the
recognition that you’ll likely be tapping it back with the not-so-friendly
hangover reminding you that you had one
too many last night. Throw on your
Lululemon’s and head to the studio where you pay $3 to rent a pair of cycling
shoes, reminding yourself to just buy a pair already. Weave your way through the crowd of flushed Palo Alto moms
and Stanford sorority girls leaving the previous class. Enter the dark room, lit by
grapefruit-scented Soul Cycle candles and set up your bike wondering if the
person before you was a little person given you raised the seat a full foot. Begin to sweat profusely only two songs
in and wonder how you will possibly make it through the class. Tricep dips, tap backs and isolations
on a solitary bike? That’s new. 30 minutes later? Congratulations, you’ve made it to
weights. Marvel at how he manages
to make 2-pound weights feel like boulders. Listen to him tell you “how you ride is how you live.” Leave sweaty and invigorated and onto
your next bankrupting habit –a $6.50 “Greens 2” from Pressed Juicery.
*Photos courtesy of Soul Cycle
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