Why We Do What We Do
If I had to bet on it, connection, with others and ourselves, was the common ground beneath our bikes.
It was that time in class when the lights and BPM go down, while the emotions tend to come up. With levers to the right, and some turns piled on top of that, we were climbing uphill, left, right, left, to a heavy beat drumming against the walls of Full Ride’s bike room. Even with closed eyes, I could feel my body marching in step with the people around me. We moved as one, the bass guiding our pedal strokes like a conductor directs an orchestra.
I thought so, anyway, until I heard the breath of the rider to my left. It was laborious, but not because we had just sprinted in the previous song. No, this had nothing to do with cardio – though it did involve the heart. She was trying to stifle tears that insisted on escaping. Hesitant to intrude, I glanced down at her feet from the corner of my eye and noticed her steps getting slower and slower.
The only interaction I had with this person was the exchange of shy smiles while setting up our bikes before class. Why hadn’t I asked her name? How did I miss that she was struggling? Like myself, she was willingly in a hot room with fancy lights doing choreography to loud music on a bike that goes nowhere amidst people who cheer even when they can hardly breath, so I assumed we had this in common: we weren’t in that bike room to simply check a workout off the to-do list. Afterall, there was a reason neither of us chose to go on a run in solitude. If I had to bet on it, connection, with others and ourselves, was the common ground beneath our bikes.
So I reached out into the darkness and placed my hand on top of hers. To my relief, she didn’t swat it away. To my surprise, she squeezed my hand back. We rode there physically connected, but because my feet were still moving to the beat of the music, we were imbalanced, disunited. In that moment I had a choice: would I prioritize doing what was “correct” as a rider or would I do the right thing as a human being?
I put my choice on my wheel, turn after turn, until my pedal strokes slowed to match her pace. I could empathize with whatever she was carrying on her back by the way it felt underneath my own feet. I had compassion that, even then, I didn’t truly understand the resistance she was fighting. Yet I was with her and she was with me – and that felt like enough for the moment.
Riding to the beat of the music is an integral part of what makes rhythm cycling a tough physical workout (well, when you have enough resistance on your wheel…hint hint). Bonus: it’s fun, energizing, and looks awesome. However, at Full Ride, we will never value synchronicity over unity. Although you might initially walk into our studio seeking a challenging workout – which is definitely something we deliver to our riders – you will leave our doors with something more.
When we say class at Full Ride is a FULL body experience, we aren’t merely referring to how it’s going to target your core, legs, back, and arms. To us, “full body” means aligning your body, heart, mind, and soul. With each pedal stroke, you exercise your willpower, vulnerability, and diligence. With every tap-back, you gain connection, support, and empowerment.
To be frank – and this might be controversial considering we are in the fitness industry – any impact cycle has on your body is just not our concern. We believe the shift that happens inwardly is the metric that really counts. Regardless of how fast, slow, short, or long you ride, there is a community of people genuinely rooting for you at Full Ride.
Can’t rise up? We’ll rise up for you.
Need to sit down? We’ll join you.
Want to keep running out of the saddle after everyone else has dropped back down? We’ll cheer you on.
This is your ride along your road. We’re just glad to be along for the journey.
Our heart beats louder with you.
With love,
Your FRC Fam
Want to experience this for yourself? Join us in the bike room to experience the magic. Email us at info@fullridecycling.com to ask about our current intro offers.