What It’s Like to Take a Peloton Class IRL

By nature of being annoying, I’m a fan of anything with a cult-like following and a wellness-y reputation. Trader Joe’s? I’ll wait in egregiously long lines for a taste of Crunchy Curls. Stanley cups? It may not be chic, but I keep my cumbersome bottle with me at all times. Goop? I follow unironically. So when I was offered the opportunity to visit one of the world’s most notoriously niche fitness studios in New York City, I, of course, obliged. Is Peloton worth it? I set out to see.

In case you’re unfamiliar, Peloton is more than a fitness brand — it’s a pillar of pop culture. From its SNL riffs to its infamous cameo on And Just Like That, the celebrity of Peloton has usurped its inception as an exercise bike. Founded in 2012, it revolutionized workout routines by bringing instructor-led classes into people’s homes via live-streamed sessions. Since then, it has evolved its offerings and exploded in social media fame. In 2024, Peloton boasted three million subscribers, a quarterly revenue of $743 million (the bike and membership can reportedly cost $2,000 upfront for the first year) and 61 beloved instructors. With a business model built on streaming, a select few get to experience its in-person studios — and I was about to be one of them.

Having never taken a class, I went into the whole thing fairly naive. Groggily walking down the NYC sidewalk at 8 a.m., I was jolted awake at the sight of the studio: a building with windows as walls and a lit-up “Peloton” sign erected above the entrance. Inside, I was greeted by glossy marbled floors, towering white pillars and beams of bright lighting swirling across the ceiling. Smoothies were available for purchase at the branded bar. Sleek couches lined the walls. And upstairs was a curated market space to shop wellness-themed merch.

As I waited to enter my class, it hit me how lucky I was to be there. Around me were devoted riders who had made the trip into the city for a class at their mecca. As I walked into the workout space, it became clear as to why. The room was akin to a club, bathing us in purple light and beat-heavy music. Treadmills were positioned in a half circle facing a wall of mirrors and a machine for the instructor. The woman stationed next to me had commuted in from Jersey that morning. “You don’t know Matty?!” she asked incredulously when I shared I was unfamiliar with the Peloton world. Our instructor Matty Maggiacomo, like most Peloton teachers, is a self-made celebrity, having gained 207,000 followers on Instagram for his personality-packed classes. Before I had the chance to respond, a voice descended through the surrounding speakers. It informed us that the class — which it referred to as “the show” — was about to be broadcasted live to “millions of Peloton members around the world,” instructing us to “bring that big diva energy.”

And then the voice materialized. As a headset-clad Matty Maggiacomo walked in from a secret side entrance, the lights flickered like a disco ball and the music got loud. People cheered and waved. I turned to the woman next to me, who had whipped out her phone to record him up close. I’m a sheep, so I did the same. Not unlike a Hollywood movie star, Maggiacomo was covered in muscles, sported a bright white smile and walked with a pep in his step. Before taking his spot in front of the camera, he walked around the room doling out high fives and compliments. Was this a workout class or a celeb meet and greet? I wasn’t sure — but I was into it.

The fan-favourite Walk & Talk is a thirty-minute class in which Maggiacomo fires through timely pop culture subjects while guiding participants on a Peloton tread. On this particular day, topics spanned outrageous celebrity baby names, Peanut the social-media-famous squirrel and the ongoing Wicked press tour.

In no time, I submitted to the silliness of it all. I had never realized working out could be based around two of the things I cherish most: celebrity culture and innocuous gossip. Each time a new topic was raised and we were instructed to ramp up our incline, I barely noticed my thighs burning and my calves getting tender. Joined by an invisible army of virtual classmates, the Walk & Talk was engaging and playful, packed with the positive reinforcements that Peloton has become known for.

Afterwards, in-person classgoers were offered a photo with Maggiacomo in front of a “P”-branded step and repeat. Still sweaty and full of adrenaline, participants lined up for their picture, but I politely declined. (I’m not like other girls.) In truth, I wanted to keep this moment in my mind as a fever-dream memory. A perfect, if random, experience of what it’s like to unapologetically enjoy a wholesome activity.

“For the longest time, fitness culture was packaged like a life hack — get six-pack abs in 10 minutes a day!” Maggiacomo told me after class. “It was always about the results that you could see. And with Peloton having been around for more than a decade, people understand that the mental health benefits far supersede the physical benefits.”

It also comes to you, he explains. The app gives guided experiences, from “Post-Meal Walks” to mindful meditations, while Peloton Entertainment lets you stream movies and TV shows on your machine. Admittedly, I was romanced by the euphoria of the in-person experience and the excitement it brings to users, both virtually and not.

Before heading out, I got a latte, indulged in a steamy shower, and took some merch for the road. I left with a deeper understanding of this masterfully branded fitness tool, and a new appreciation for its unabashed embrace of the unchill. Peloton is enthusiastic, unsubtle and — like its reputation suggests — made up of an intensely dedicated community. To a newcomer like me, a Peloton class is memorable and, like Trader Joe’s sheet cake, worth the hype.