The Bike That Goes Everywhere… But No Where

To the bike that goes everywhere, but nowhere… thank you for carrying me through the hard days. Thank you for introducing me to something that’s been good for both my physical and mental health. And thank you for the people I’ve met and the friendships I’ve built along the way.

A few years ago, I came across a TikTok of an instructor leading a cycle class in Arizona. My first thought was, “Dang, that looks fun.” It looked like a club atmosphere, but with people just showing up, working hard, and enjoying themselves. I didn’t think much of it at the time.

Fast forward to the Summer of 2025. A friend and I went on a hike and quickly realized we were out of shape. That moment stuck with us. By September, we decided to finally try a class at CycleBar in Westminster, Colorado on a whim in hopes we would both get in better shape.

I had no idea what I was walking into. I didn’t know the terminology, didn’t know if I could handle the workout, and honestly didn’t know what to expect. I showed up to my first class with two HUGE water bottles and somehow drank both of them by the end. But what I remember most is how I felt walking out. I felt proud.

A few rides in, an instructor said something that stuck with me: “You have to show up for you.” That hit. I needed to show up for myself because no one else was going to do it for me. At the time, I had put on weight, didn’t feel confident in who I was or who I was becoming, and was dealing with some heart-related health concerns. I also was facing loneliness and was hoping for some aspect of community. I knew I needed to make a change and was hoping for the best with CycleBar.

So I did. I signed up for a membership. Eventually one milestone led to another, and before I knew it, I had hit 100 rides tonight.

Unfortunately, my friend (who I started with) didn’t end up continuing with me, and at first that was hard. But I kept going because I chose to keep showing up for myself.

Throughout those 100 rides, there were moments of loneliness. Moments where my mind drifted to my friend Taylor and everything he had gone through with his cancer battle. Moments where life just felt heavy. But every time I clipped into that bike, it became more than just a workout. It felt like a form of therapy.

You don’t always realize what you’re carrying until you slow down long enough to face it. Especially in today’s society, somehow it helps to unplug for even 45 minutes from any aspect of technology. Every class provided and continues to provide that environment to connect with what’s going on with me in my life. Allows me to check in and “take inventory” of what’s going on and how I am feeling. Yes, some classes are easy and life is good. Other classes, I am barely hanging on a string and I am powering through on gas and fumes.

Luckily enough it’s not something I am doing alone. Every instructor at CycleBar has been nothing but supportive and all speaking life and providing such a welcoming environment. They all have very unique formats to each of their classes and they remind you that you are seen and you are capable of more than you think. That resonates so much in today’s world. A lot of times it feels like it’s hard to be truly seen in a world that moves so fast, but somehow I can guarantee you are seen at CycleBar OPP and that is priceless.

I’m not sure what the next 100 rides will look like. I don’t know what struggles or joys I’ll carry with me into that room, but I do know I won’t be walking in alone. I’ve found a family at OPP that pushes me to be better, and instructors who would walk alongside me through whatever I’m facing. I’m grateful for the bike that somehow takes you nowhere, but also everywhere at the same time. It’s given me more than I ever expected.