SoulCycle vs. Peloton: A Bike-to-Bike Spin Off
By: Dawn Bovasso
Tags: Peloton, Spinning, Fitness, Soul Cycle, Women In Advertising

Yes, SoulCycle and Peloton seem to be for the beautiful, the rich, and the lithe. This ethos is both part of their appeal and, to be honest, also part of why I resisted jumping on the bandwagon for so long. But now, as someone who loves both, I get it — I get why both are addictive. So, why are people so devoted? And what’s the difference? Should you do one, the other, or (if you are rich and have no job and no kids) both?

SoulCycle

I first went to SoulCycle because I was stranded next door to an upscale strip mall in Menlo Park; everyone was already walking around in lululemon, whether or not they were actually working out. Even though I was frequently taking spinning classes at my gym and had even gotten certified to teach, I’d refused to try it, mainly because I had a bias against their use of romantic candles. It was a dumb bias, but somehow between the dancing and candles, I couldn’t imagine it being anything other than silly. But there I was, in a hotel on the other side of the country, being peer-pressured by high-performance fashion, with no work, no child, no friends, and no car for four days. So I went.

Unsurprisingly, almost everyone was female, white, fit, and wearing $100 worth of clothing. (This ends up proving true in Boston too. Once in a while, there will be a guy or two in class, someone over 40, or a few varying ethinicites depending on the studio — and I once saw another woman whose stomach looked like she may have had a baby. But for the most part, the crowd is pretty homogeneous.)

Diversity issues aside, it was clear that this is cult-like. I actually liked this: I’ve been going to Bikram yoga for more than a decade, and there is a similar (though much more diverse) vibe going on. There is something about a common love for a practice and moving your body in the same way as a group of others that brings out an emotional connection. Granted, at SoulCycle, this is enhanced by things like flawless, top-to-bottom branding and thoughtful service design; there are USB chargers in the lockers, hair ties, and literally everything has a yellow sparkly wheel on it. It smells delicious and feels like a spa. There is a feeling of community and motivation before even entering the workout studio. Clearly, they know what they are doing.

An actual class was nothing like I expected.

It was a Broadway class on a bike — a spontaneous, choreographed dance between a bunch of strangers.

To back up a bit, the very first spin class I took five years ago was also a bit of an accident. A class was starting just as I walked into my regular gym, so I gave it a try. About 30 minutes into class, the instructor played “Flashdance,” and I started crying. I thought, “I think I’m pregnant.” (I was.) I fell in love with spinning and have been devoted ever since, but I haven’t really cried in class since that day I found out I was pregnant. Not until my first SoulCycle class.

What happened that day in my first class — and in every one since — is that I’ve felt strong, beautiful, and happy, and, somewhere around the 30 minute mark, I start crying. There is no clear reason, but somehow the dark and the music and the heat (it’s probably 85 degrees in there… I think the fans are fake like in IKEA) somehow combine to trigger the same response that I had when I was pregnant and heard “Flashdance.”

They manage to trigger an energy and a feeling that I’ve never experienced with such consistency or power — not from running marathons, or Bikram, or other spin classes, or any other intense workouts. It’s that feeling you get on the dance floor at midnight, after you’ve had four drinks and your favorite song comes on, and you dance without inhibition — when you throw everything you have into how your body moves and the rest of the world just blacks out. So yes, it’s kind of corny and elitist and stupidly expensive, but damn, I love it.

Peloton

Buying a Peloton was also a bit of an impulse, the entire decision and purchase made in 15 minutes. After doing some napkin math, I realized that no matter how much I love SoulCycle, I’d been spending almost $1000 a month on it and still only going twice a week: as a single mom, a class cost me about $100 (babysitting plus the $30 fee/food for the sitter/Lyfts/etc.). So not only was I paying more than any gym, I wasn’t even working out all that much. Basically, I’d be a fool not to get my own bike. Also, according to the Peloton commercials, if I bought one I’d be super motivated and glamorous even at home, so it seemed win-win.

I tried to recreate the SoulCycle studio in my laundry room, which is actually quite lovely with exposed brick, rugs, and new paint. Maybe even a big RENEGADE sticker. I got some of those electric candles, and turned off the lights. It was serene and warm, and I fully expected to capture that dance-floor feeling.

An actual class was nothing like I expected.

My first ride was a bit of a letdown. What I didn’t anticipate is that the in-home experience model is completely opposite from a real-life class. In a live studio, the group energy and movement is a significant part of what fuels your own energy, but here, there was none of that. I wasn’t dancing with anyone. I was nose-to-nose with the Peloton instructor; the camera focuses primarily on him/her, and the quality of your class is heavily dependent on this person’s energy and how much you connect. You’re also staring at the faces of the people in the front row, and even if they are actually motivated/happy, their expressions generally convey something between apathy and strain. In live classes, you’re shielded from that because you’re looking at people’s backs and spinning legs. As they move up and down, you feel a sense of motivation whether or not it’s real.

Anyway, so there I am in my dark, hot laundry room, spinning away, looking at people’s faces, wishing the instructor would stop talking so I could hear the music, and thinking that maybe I’d made a mistake.

But I now had a $2000 bike, so I kept on keeping on. It really is a perfect piece of equipment — smooth, silent, sleek, comfortable — easily the best bike I’ve ever ridden, and the quality of the actual workouts were unlike anything I’d experienced in a studio. I started trying different instructors, finally finding one who teaches close to the SoulCycle vibe (Jenn Sherman) and plays a lot of my favorite songs. I got used to looking at her and getting into the zone, and after only a few classes, things changed. It wasn’t too long before I got moved to tears right around the 30 minute mark. It was during Pink’s “Beautiful Trauma.”

I’ve also switched to morning workouts, and this has been a game-changer; the streaming quality is better without rush hour traffic; there are no interruptions from my phone or child; it feels like the whole world is asleep.

On one of the first days that I woke up at 6am, the sun was coming up and streaming into the laundry room at the very end of the ride, just as Macklemore’s “Glorious” came on, and I thought, “Yes! This IS GLORIOUS.” I am alone with my own powerful body, the music, and the day ahead. It’s epic in its own way.

The TL;DR

SoulCycle’s ability to make you feel something emotional and exhilarating is more consistent and easier to achieve. Peloton gives you a reliably better workout, but that emotional charge requires a chase. I miss the unity and energy of going to a live class, but the peacefulness and focus of my solitary mornings are a welcome trade-off. Basically, my original mistake was expecting these two to be similar experiences — and they are not. I love both.