I leave class soaked in perspiration; a smile of satisfaction plastered across my face. I have mastered the tap back (without bodily harm) and can now bump and grind in time with the coveted front row. I can even isolate my feet without holding on to the handlebars for a few seconds. Soulcycle has unearthed my soul; I thought it all but disappeared when I had kids, cut my hair, and started wearing comfortable shoes. Turns out my soul was only a little dusty. Now, when I hear a song that is played in class I quickly turn up the radio and yell, to no one in particular, “SOUL SONG.” I practice my rhythm presses and side two sides while making dinner. I double time my hands to the beat as if they are my feet causing my daughter to shake her head and whisper, “the cult.” She may be right: I have my eye on the front row.
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