It’s time to admit something: I’m part of the Peloton cult. I’d like to say I was ahead of the curve (but behind on the stock surge). I bought a used bike just as COVID started to keep us indoors. I’d been interested in Peloton for a while but couldn’t justify it with a gym membership. And then my gym closed, alongside several others in the city, and I found myself outside a shuttered Crossfit, wheeling the red dream into my car. The rest is history.
I ride most days. I toggle instructors. I hand out high fives. I increase the variety of my rides. I PR sometimes. I can really talk about this for … longer than most of my friends care to engage. (Unless they also have a Peloton.)
Recently I was listening to a Podcast about the Metaverse, which is loosely defined as a digital second life. I was interested, but not engaged until they likened that experience to a Peloton subscriber. Wait, what? Sure, I workout with a group of people I can’t see. And no, we don’t use our real names. Yes, I need headphones and have a screen in front of me. I’m connected to the internet. I have “Friends” I’ve never met…
Dang.
I don’t play many video games, or own crypto, or even have a Facebook account. These aren’t exactly intentional shifts away from the Metaverse, but I would have stated the way I experience life is first-person. I was shocked to learn that an activity I participate in with such fervor is part of the fabric of a thing I can barely understand. Used to barely understand.
I get it now. And I still love it. Not enough to buy meta Nike cleats for my meta bike persona.