In my last blog (Soul-less Cycle: The Pack and The Pact), I wrote about my mixed experiences at a SoulCycle fitness studio. Over the last two years, I’ve done lots of embodied/somatic research for the book I’m writing about exercise addiction and the fitness industry.
Today’s blog describes my latest SoulCycle visit.
While booking online, I found a class that looked partially full. I signed up for bike number 28, in the middle of the second row. “That spot will help me keep up with the rest of the class this time,” I thought. “If I learn more about maneuvering the bike, then maybe…just maybe… I can be a part of the posse.”
Leaning over my shoulder, my teen son saw the computer screen and said, “You’re going to SoulCycle again? I thought you didn’t like it.”
“You know I’m a glutton for punishment,” I joked. “But really, I need a little more grist for my book.”
He laughed and called me a “muckraker.” He turned to his younger sister and joked, “next year in Social Studies, you’ll learn what muckraking is.” Then, he gave me a fist bump.
“Hmm…a muckraker,” I thought proudly, “I was a fitness instructor early in my career; I’ll smell the muck if it’s there!”
But honestly, my ego and brain also wanted another class. I’ve always been competitive, athletic and rhythmic.“I’ll figure out SoulCycle this time. How hard can it really be?”
The fitness industry and sports programs frequently facilitate exercise disorders by shaming and guilting participants who prioritize:
- Self-care (uncommitted, not serious)[1]
- Relationships with people outside the gym/sport environment (e.g.: “You’re lazy, weak, not serious, not all-in.”)[2]
- Self-protection, e.g., Resisting or reporting sexual abuse, intimidation, racist language, homophobic language[3],[4].
Inside the studio, the instructor (Jack) donned his headset and glared at me. “Huh,” I thought, “he thinks I’m a newbie because he’s never seen me before.”
I guessed right.
Then I thought: “Maybe this instructor will notice my progress.”
I guessed wrong.
With obnoxious scorn in his voice, Jack began class with a question: “Is this anyone’s first class—or were you dragged here by someone else? I’ll know right away, so you’ll be better off if you tell me now.”
I went to SoulCycle only the week before. I came by myself. Why would I raise my hand?
Jack rolled his eyes at me and seemed unshakably certain that he “knew” I’d be inept. Then, he proceeded to berate me for the next 45 minutes.
“I see you bouncing; it’s clear you don’t know what you’re doing”
“Don’t look up, look down!!!” (to learn the rhythm and flow of the demanding routine, I was looking at Jack and other riders.)
Was he intentionally dumping on me? It looked that way. Baffled by Jack’s “teaching” method and bewildered by his attitude, I wondered what he was after.
Did he deliberately demean “new” students?
I certainly felt small and incompetent as he continued barking at me:
“Keep the beat on your RIGHT leg, not the other one!”
“You’re doing it wrong. You should be going fast now; you are slow, slow, slow! You’re waaay behind.
We’re leaving you in the dust, girl.” (On a stationary bike?)
Early in the class, Jack had beckoned a “favorite” female rider—a woman who faithfully uses SoulCyle. She knew all the moves. She didn't bounce or bop on the bike. She led with the “correct” leg. She knew where to look.
Jack frequently complimented her and her moves. Soon, he walked to her bike, loomed over her and tightened the resistance crank—while praising her again. He repeated this multiple times.
Now she was in the spotlight, pressured to deliver the same pace—but with more and more resistance.
But wait. Wasn’t Jack bullying this “chosen one” too? By different means?
Irony Alert: In a fleeting, desperate moment, I wanted to push my body harder in hopes he would see me as a “favorite girl” too–even if it meant being bullied. It might stop the mortification of my current hot seat.
At the first break, Jack glared at me and snarled, “Now, I’m going to ask one more time. Is there anyone here for her first class?”
I shouted back: “No! It’s my fourth—and as a former fitness instructor, let that be a lesson to you!”
Aghast and furious, shame flooded every cell in my body—and seemed to overflow into the studio. I could hardly move. Dumbfounded in disbelief, I wondered, should I just walk out right now?
I didn’t
Thanks to some classmates’ compassionate glances—and my stubborn athletic ego--I stayed to the end.
I took a SoulCycle journey all right. It ended with my soul crushed on the studio floor. How did that happen?
As an exercise physiologist, student of yoga, and former fitness instructor, I recognize how the Fitness “Industry” systematically erases the soulful, affirming energy we and our bodies crave.
As a clinician treating people with exercise addiction, I’m enraged, and revolted by how commercial “fitness” damages people—while simultaneously demanding they come back for more.
Most Fitness Brands cultivate and reward obsessive numerical calculations like pace, reps, miles, steps, weight, weights, form, heart rate, and more. They run on “grit,” competition, and punitive lingo (see a recent example here).
These business models disrupt natural connection with our bodies, ourselves, other people—inside and outside the gym. It can also replicate prior traumas and enable grooming, gaslighting–all of which lead us to dissociate from our bodies.
Fitness “Industry” and culture:
Prey on our fears.
Exploit our anxieties
Fuel our insecurities
They construct counterfeit “communities” so we bind ourselves to their brand instead of a competitor's.
They prize us most when we’re obsessed with–and addicted to–artificial states of reality. Just read the mission statement.
Their profits and shareholders depend on we “members” repeatedly returning to chase a vaporous sense of belonging.
I spend my workdays treating people who exercise obsessively, compulsively, and destructively. I’m frequently disturbed by their experiences inside and outside “fitness centers.”
But on this SoulCycle visit, my clinical side and my personal side were both incensed. My entire body screamed: ENOUGH! I am grateful when reactions like this stimulate powerful questions, such as:
How will I respond?
How will others respond?
What are the implications for all of us?
I believe that we must respond to these questions by working (and sometimes slogging) to:
Free ourselves from distorted relationships with exercise
Practice and embrace restorative, nurturing relationships with movement
Join with one another to challenge toxic fitness culture
Honestly see the influence of fitness “values” on other parts of our culture
In our next newsletter, we’ll dig into characteristics of toxic fitness culture.
[1] Reid, Scott (2023) "UC Berkeley fires swim coach Teri McKeever." Southern California News Group, February 1, 2023. https://www.eastbaytimes.com/2023/01/31/breaking-news-cal-fires-teri-mckeever/ (Accessed 2/1/2023).
[2] Ibid
[3] Ibid
[4] Warren, Katie (2020). "SoulCycle's top instructors had sex with clients, 'fat-shamed' coworkers, and used homophobic and racist language." Business Insider, 11/17/2024. https://www.businessinsider.com/soulcycle-instructors-celebrities-misbehavior-2020-11. (Accessed 7/28/2024).