Ten years ago, I tried SoulCycle in New York City. In a dark studio with loud music, I got lost in the crowd for a rhythmic, freeing, and sweaty workout.
I liked the no metrics/no screens method and choreographed workouts, but was less fond of the cliques. I didn't like how SoulCycle promoted their instructors like products–or used celebrities to manufacture a reputation as the newest and coolest place to “trendercise.” Turned off after a few classes, I didn’t go back.
In 2023, the United States had over 121,000 health/fitness clubs, generating 36-Billion-dollars in revenue[1][2], (not including community rec facilities, or gyms in other venues like hotels).
Throughout the past decade, my perspective on fitness centers became clearer, deeper, and more disturbing. Why? you might ask. Because I am:
A clinician who specializes in treating exercise and eating disorders
An exercise physiologist
A yoga therapist
A former fitness instructor
Writing a book about exercise addiction
I worked on the book during my vacation this summer in eastern Long Island, NY. I decided to visit a local SoulCycle to do some embodied research.
As I signed in, the staff person asked, “Is this your first class?”
“No,” I replied, “I did SoulCycle years ago when I lived in the City.”
With a tone of compassion she said, “It’s good that you signed up for a bike in the third row.”
“Oh, I don’t care about the row,” I assured her. “I’m just here to have fun.”
A sea of people wearing brightly colored unitards and bike-clip shoes flowed alongside me on the way to the studio. Buoyed by the energy and enthusiasm, I smiled and hoped that today would be different than my last SoulCycle experience. I impulsively bought a SoulCycle crop top and threw it over my sports bra. Waiting for the studio to open, people chatted in the hallway. A sign above the doorway read: “take your journey, find your soul.”
Pumped and ready, I supplanted my research agenda. I went to the bike thinking, Maybe I could belong here.
But then, in bold, attention-grabbing fonts, I saw a list on the studio wall:
Pack
Tribe
Crew
Posse
Cult
Gang
Community
SoulCycle
I felt like someone was shoving my toy tugboat of hope to the bathtub bottom. “OH NO!” I thought. “You had me until you said cult.” I Remembered how effectively gym spaces breed tribal loyalty to a cause—more accurately, a brand—that discourages listening to our own body.
My next move? I let my hope-filled tugboat bob back to the bathtub surface. I adjusted the bike seat and handlebars. Then, I remembered one of my clients.
Erin was a die-hard (no pun intended) SoulCycle member. Her world revolved around SoulCycle culture like an alcoholic haunts their neighborhood bar. Caught in destructive relationships with exercise, she took multiple classes daily—and then exercised outside the gym. She enhanced the obsessions by diligently following her instructors on social media
During Erin‘s treatment, we worked for months to decrease the intensity and volume of her exercise. Like many others in her situation, the disorder’s resistance was tenacious. Finally, one Monday, Erin begrudgingly agreed to take just one day off from SoulCycle.
We sat together as she went online to cancel her Tuesday class. She hated missing a workout. But her greater distress was: “What will people think when I don’t show up? What will SoulCycle say about me if I'm not in the studio? And what’ll happen to me when I go back on Wednesday?”
“It’ll be okay,” I said. “People cancel and skip classes all the time.”
I was wrong.
At our next weekly appointment, I learned how faintly I understood her SoulCycle “world.” Erin arrived in my office devastated, ashamed, and mortified. As she feared, her Wednesday at SoulCycle was awful.
It didn’t matter that the instructor Marybeth saw Erin’s years of uninterrupted loyalty. Marybeth harshly demanded: “Where were you yesterday, Erin?”
Erin quietly replied: “I was resting my body.”
“What's that supposed to mean?” Marybeth said, “What were you thinking?”
Marybeth growled: “Your decision to go soft cost me my ‘perfect’ rating because the class wasn’t full. Who's to blame for that, Erin? You are. Plus, you disrespected me by canceling at the last minute (she gave 24-hour notice).”
But Marybeth wasn’t finished; she went on Instagram to accuse Erin of being selfish and damaging her reputation.
What’s missing from this interaction? What’s obliterated from this experience? Even a shred of:
Concern for Erin’s situation
Interest in Erin’s experience
Curiosity about Erin’s well being
After months of struggle, one person courageously chose to honor her body’s needs for one day. The reward? Public shaming from her teacher.
Unfortunately, what Erin endured is not uncommon.
Back at my summer SoulCycle “research station,” I sidestepped memories of Erin and started warming up. Still peddling, I looked at another wall. It boldly proclaimed:
“At SoulCycle, we aspire to inspire. We inhale intention and exhale expectation. We commit to our climbs and find freedom in our sprints. We are a fitness community raising the roof of our own cardio party. The rhythm pushes us harder than we ever thought possible. Our own strength surprises us every time. Addicted, obsessed and unnaturally attached to our bikes. High on sweat and the hum of the wheel. Core engaged, we reshape our entire bodies one ride at a time. Change your body, take your journey, find your soul.[3]”
Now my stomach sank like the Titanic and stayed there.
The “mission” sounds so wonderful at first! Who doesn’t want to aspire to inspire? To be part of a pack, tribe, posse, or crew? Wouldn’t you love to create intention and let go of expectation?
Who’d be better at raising the roof at a cardio party than me? I’m a lifelong athlete, who loves the moments when my strength surprises me and my rhythm propels me.
I was conflicted; even horrified. Does any part of me want to be:
Addicted?
Obsessed??
Unnaturally attached to my bike???
High on sweat and the hum of the wheel????
Reshaping my ENTIRE body one ride at a time?!?!?
Take a moment to ponder whether you want to be:
- Addicted
- Obsessed
- Unnaturally attached to your bike
- High on sweat and the hum of the wheel
- Reshaping your ENTIRE body one ride at a time
The writing was literally on the wall. So, how did I respond? Like someone wearing a SoulCycle crop top. I rationalized participating as the class began.
“I’m muscular and rhythmic by nature—a former collegiate athlete. I could be in the ‘Crew’ not the ‘Cult,’ right?
Maybe I could find my people here anyway.
Maybe I could come to the party and raise the roof without obsession or addiction.
Maybe I can still “take the journey, find my soul and find my community.”
The class instructor’s energy and upbeat personality matched his funky vibe and cool moves. Billy had us dancing on our bikes as he demanded our best efforts. The theme: Justin Bieber vs. The Weeknd. The music and movement felt great for me. I immediately wanted to try harder and win Billy’s approval.
Finding my groove, I mouthed the words to Bieber’s “Sorry.”
Yeah, is it too late now to say sorry?
'Cause I'm missing more than just your body
Yeah, I know that I let you down
Is it too late to say I'm sorry now[4],[5]
Billy rallied us, shouting: “Look around and high five the person next to you! Root for one another. WE ARE A COMMUNITY!”
I felt a fleeting connection to something electric and larger than life. I let out a loud, “Whoo-Hoo!”’ and looked for someone to high five. No one seemed interested. Feeling alone and ignored, my sense of belonging started to fizzle while my exercise high evaporated.
Billy continued: “See that person to your left, and right? They’re a real community. Not some virtual voice on your bike’s monitor while you pedal alone in the basement.
I started to wonder: “Is SoulCycle like a dominating, insecure gang that doesn't want me defecting to a competitor’s gang?”
Uh oh. I suddenly sobered up to the reality of SoulCycle’s “community” values:
Being by yourself is a failure.
Trusting yourself is dangerous.
Being alone with your body is weird and uncool.
Going to “other” gyms means you’re disloyal.
Going to “other” gyms means you’re no longer part of the tribe.
The atmosphere reminded me of a middle school, where our fears of being “outsiders” are primal. SoulCycle also acts like the Wizard of Oz; powerfully promoting an illusion that:
Is hollow
Is paper-thin
Will shred, disintegrate, and blow away under critical examination
Why don’t SoulCycle or its sibling “fitness” brands want us looking behind the curtain? We might escape their grasp.
These thoughts, however, didn’t derail that part of me still longing for another hit of my “biking-with-Bieber” high.
Was I “taking the journey” or tripping on dopamine and delusion?
Why wasn’t I impervious to “fitness” culture –even after decades of knowledge, education, and experience with clients who exercise excessively?
I have decades of knowledge, education, and experience in toxic fitness environments–AND with clients with dysfunctional relationships to exercise. Wouldn’t that make me immune to “fitness” culture?
Join me in next week’s newsletter to look for some answers.
[2] Federal Reserve Bank of St. Louis Economic Research (2023) "Total Revenue for Fitness and Recreational Sports Centers, All Establishments." https://fred.stlouisfed.org/series/REVEF71394ALLEST. (Accessed 7/9/2023).
[3] https://www.pinterest.com/pin/4503668347661413/ (accessed 7/24/2024).
[4] Justin Bieber, Julia Michaels, Justin Tranter, Skrillex, & BloodPop (Michael Tucker). (2015): “Sorry.” https://www.lyrics.com/lyric/32310287/Justin+Bieber (accessed 7/28/2024).
[5] Wikipedia: “Sorry (Justin Bieber song)” https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sorry_(Justin_Bieber_song). (accessed 7/28/2024).