There are no nylon, SOUL-printed leggings clinging to my body. I don't wear a tank with a wheel on it, no matter how stylish it truly is. I still stick to the standard two pound weights, every so often testing myself with threes. And I can’t jog on beat 100% of the time. But almost every single ride, I’m found in the front row, just slightly off-center from the instructor's bike, whooping and hollering my heart out.
I remember not understanding the concept of rhythm-based cycling the first few times I rode. Once I caught on, I was able to improve my slow presses, middle bar push-ups and tapbacks. I could ride one-handed while clapping, switching from third to second to first and back again. Gradually I felt confident enough to move to the middle row, but still swore off the front row completely. “It’s for anyone who is perfect at this, it’s not for me. I still can’t even sprint a full 30 seconds yet,” I reminded myself. Until I woke up randomly at 7:30 one morning and before I could even think, texted a quick question to instructor Casi Reali,
“Hey cas! I totally understand if you say no but can i try front row on sunday morning?”
Half an hour later my phone buzzes,
“OMGOSH YES PLEASE BE IN MY FRONT ROW”
And that was it. I was in the “exclusive” front row. To this day, I don’t know what prompted me to jump to the front. Internally, unconsciously, I felt ready, even if I knew my technique wasn’t crisp, clean and klutz-free. And from that first ride in the front, I could see myself continuing to improve in my riding and my confidence. I began making friends with other regular riders, who have had their highs and lows and have found solace in Soul Cycle. We’re not always on beat, but we get most of the movements and rhythms right. But that doesn’t matter. The Soul family I have found rides with me in the front row and sidebar, supporting each other through every climb, push, jog and jump that comes our way. We feed off of each other’s energy, cheer and clap together, aspire to perspire every single second of those forty-five minutes in the room. We all started in the back row, and we continued to move forward not as a result of perfection, but as a result of improvement in both technique and confidence.
“If you’re sweating and your heart is racing, you are getting somewhere,” instructor Jade Viggiano dictates to us riders, her disciples, in her trademark "tell-it-how-it-is," tough-love voice. Jade creates those words and strings them together in a phrase so determining and uplifting, I couldn’t do better myself. It summarizes what I have learned on the bike that goes nowhere these past twelve months so perfectly. As I fight the tears, knowing that she is speaking the truth and only the truth, she goes “You know that, Sam. You’ve improved so much.” I silently lose it right there on bike 8. And I realize that’s why I deserve to clip into that specific bike. I’m not perfect all the time, no one is. That’s the cold hard fact.
