I Joined a Cult Called Peloton

Spoiler alert: I love it

Last March when the world shut down, I found myself in my basement, alone, on my yoga mat. I know that sounds pleasant to some, but the quiet time was quite fleeting, as I was summoned up the basement stairs countless times to help fix the internet, the printer, or a grilled cheese sandwich to whichever kid was demanding it. (These kids are, incidentally, teenagers and should be able to fix their own grilled cheese sandwiches, but I indulge them.)

Like everyone else, I found myself out of sorts, missing my pre-pandemic life. I missed seeing my friends; I missed leaving my house, going to my local coffee shop to write, and attending classes at my local yoga studio. When real-life yoga classes were no longer viable, one of my friends suggested I download the yoga app from Peloton, the iconic exercise bike that has developed a fanatical following. It was free and they had amazing yoga classes, or so she said.

I downloaded the app and practiced yoga nearly every morning, in my basement, before the printer (and my inbox) got jammed. The instructors kept me company. They seemed as proficient as my “real” teachers, and almost like my real friends.

After the free trial was up, I was roped into a paying contract. And then I started listening to the cycling classes on my phone during…