Gym-phobic Fabulous editor Joely Chilcott tries out Soul Cycle – the fitness class taking over world and now hitting Britain – The Sun

MY fringe is plastered to my forehead, I can’t move my feet and I’ve just high-fived the stranger next to me.

As whoops and cheers echo around the room, I’m gasping for breath as the enthusiastic instructor tells us to “turn it up”.

This is Soul Cycle — the cult indoor-cycling class that has taken over the fitness world.

There are 93 studios across the US and Canada and its A-list fans include Beyonce, Lady Gaga, the Beckhams and Selena Gomez.

If you run in fitness circles — it might come as a shock that I don’t! — there was a huge buzz when the brand announced it would be launching in the capital this summer.

And now, after much success, it is due to open more studios in London this year, with big plans to expand across the country.

I figured I could no longer ignore Bey’s favourite workout.

It has been six years since I went to my first — and only — spin class.

After a heated discussion with the instructor about the resistance dial, I vowed never to return to one.

But here I am, standing outside the Soul Cycle studio in Soho at 8am, feeling slightly hysterical.

The brand declares it is “more than a workout — it’s a sanctuary”.

Yet, when I step through the doors, I cannot see a topless Ryan Gosling serving champagne.

It turns out my idea of a sanctuary is very different.

After I register at reception, I am handed a pair of specialist shoes and then head to the basement.

The room, filled with 63 bikes, is dark with a nightclub style and strict no-phone policy.

Walking towards my allotted machine, I am stumped at the first hurdle. I can’t get on to the bike.

Everyone else glides seamlessly on to their saddles, clips in their shoes and pedals gracefully.

Thankfully, I am given a helping hand.

The 45-minute class is a full-body workout that includes elements of dance, climbing and light weights.

Our instructor Abbey Ashley bounces on to the podium declaring: “You’ve done the hard part, you’ve set your alarm and got up to get here.”

Somehow I don’t believe her.

Part of the Soul Cycle appeal is that the instructors must go through a gruelling audition process.

Abbey, 24, from Vancouver, Canada, was up against 600 others competing for 23 positions.

She tells me: “They really want the right people so they watch you ride, ask you questions and assess your personality to see if you fit.

“The next part is the training, which is a six to eight-week programme that follows a specific formula — we call it the ‘secret sauce’ — to making an amazing spin class.

“There is an instructor for every sort of person. We all bring different energy, music and styles to our classes, which is why we have different people following our workouts.”

Looking around the class, I am pleasantly surprised to see all shapes, sizes and ages.

We are encouraged to high-five the people sitting either side of us. Come on, doesn’t Abbey know this Americanism won’t fly here?

Yet the other 62 Soul Cyclers oblige. Weird.

The room is plunged into darkness and Paris by Jay-Z and Kanye West blasts through the speakers.

Everybody begins to cycle and I find myself transfixed, telling myself, “I can do it.” But by song two, I’m knackered.

Halfway through the class we are told it is Rose’s birthday and everyone cheers the woman on the second row.

I reach the logical conclusion that Rose must be a psychopath because she should be two slices of birthday cake down by now, not in this torture chamber.

Suddenly, we switch routines. Cycling at a slower pace, we are told to pick up the weights nesting in a basket under the saddle. Finally, some respite for my legs, I think.

Until three minutes after pumping some iron, my arms are burning and I’m crying out for a return to sprint pedalling.

The lights flash, the room goes pitch black and Rihanna’s S&M blasts through the speakers.

Now we are talking. No one can see me, I can sing along to the music and ride how I want.

If this isn’t your thing, other instructors choose different playlists.

Near the end of the class, I’m losing momentum, until I look to my left and see my fellow cycler whooping and shouting “yeah!”

She is in her late thirties and not pedalling in time to the music, clearly working on her own choreography. But she is having the time of her life.

This is what exercise should be about. As long as you’re moving, who really cares about the rules?

Abbey explains: “I’ll never force you to do anything. You ride how you want.

“My main goal is to recreate that moment when you’re on a dance floor with your friends and an amazing song drops and you all start dancing and not caring what anyone else thinks.”

After the class, I get one of the best blowdries of my life thanks to the expensive Dyson hairdryers in the changing rooms.

But at £24 a session, you might need an A-list salary to make Soul Cycle a regular thing.

As someone who has walked out of three gym classes in tears — I wish I was joking — the fact I’m not swearing off exercise altogether again is an achievement.

I would recommend Soul Cycle to someone wanting to kick-start a healthy regime or when they just need a boost.

I ask my fellow Soul Cycler, Maggie, 42, a PA, why she prefers it to other spin classes and she says: “It’s a way to let loose.”

I can’t help but agree. It is certainly good for the soul.

Source: Read Full Article