Denver cycling: Indoor bike workouts in Colorado – The Denver Post

The basement cycling studio at the downtown Denver YMCA is spacious and spare, free of bells, whistles, mega sound systems and flashing lights. All bikes are equipped with computers that measure heart rate, cadence, speed and power, and during my class every cue was focused on one thing: riding a bicycle.

My instructor, Claire Martin (a former reporter at The Denver Post), has taught at the Y for 15 years, and she gave simple instructions as we moved through a traditional, comprehensive workout that included sprints, fast-pedaling drills, and a simulated hill climb set to an upbeat and diverse playlist. Apart from the climb, most of the class took place seated. There were only two other students the morning I attended, which meant that no neighbor-sweat infringed upon my personal space — something I have discovered is quite the luxury out in the world of boutique gyms that operate off of wait-lists.

The early-morning staff at the Y was welcoming and friendly. Although the front-desk workers didn’t seem in the mood to offer a new-client tour of the massive (and recently remodeled) facility, two longtime members spotted my confusion and happily pointed me in the right direction without my even having to ask — although one of them did send me in the wrong direction.

Ymca GIF from Ymca GIFs

It’s worth noting that the cost of an unlimited monthly membership to the full-facility YMCA costs just a few dollars more than a single 45-minute class at many of the boutique studios. The facility is new, clean and has a cavernous locker room complete with showers, blow dryers and toiletries. Also: The Y was the only facility I visited that offered me free coffee. Unlimited free coffee.

Now, here are some of your stand-alone indoor cycling options.

The glow of black lights in the High Ride Cycle studio illuminated a mural that loomed directly to my right.

“Sprint it out,” it read. “Turn it up. Walk it back. Side to side. Pulse it down. Tap it back.”

My instructor gave each one of those commands over the course of our workout as she motivated a packed room to dance on the pedals. Unfortunately, as soon as the first beat dropped, I discovered that this was also a partial list of things I am unable to do in time to electronic dance music.

The majority of the session was spent standing out of the saddle, and involved quick patterns of full-body movements like pushups, tap-backs, and four corners. It offered the mental challenge of keeping up with a new aerobics class in fast-forward and added flashing lights, pulsing dance music, and legs in perpetual motion. The dynamic movements engaged my core and recruited a variety of muscles through my hips and glutes. About two-thirds of the way through the class, we let our legs slow down and added a few sets of exercises to tone our upper bodies with light weights.

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WORK for that #HighRideHigh.💦

“It’s a dance party on a bike” is the studio’s tagline, and I heard it from more than one employee. I left feeling like I had worked every major muscle group in my body, though not really like I had ridden a bike at all. The dark studio has no clocks or cycling computers, leaving me free to focus solely on my movement and the constant encouragement of my instructor, who never once mentioned that I must be awfully awkward at dance parties.

The lobby of High Ride is bright and welcoming, invoking a community vibe that is important to co-owner Megan Hanson. She was the one waiting behind the front desk to size me for shoes and help fit my bike. Hanson, who is partners with her husband, Scott, emphasized that she wants her instructors to know the students’ names, and that everyone is welcome. A few regulars even ride along and enjoy the vibe without attempting the dance moves.

I had never before heard a fitness instructor say “reach fearlessly for support” when encouraging me to turn up the resistance on a high-intensity workout. Then again, I had never before been to SoulCycle.

The cycling room is dimly lit, with computerless bikes packed pedal-to-pedal and seat-to-bars. One wall was mirrored, but between the darkness and the crowd, it would be quite a trick to actually catch a critical glimpse of yourself. Regardless, my instructor, Dylan-with-the-super-shiny-nose-ring, was quite adamant that our focus should remain on emotions and sensation rather than measurements or appearance.

Most of the workout was standing up, and it included a variety of position shifts and core-stabilizing moves set to a diverse music selection, as well as a brief hand-weight session. Wrapped up in the challenge of keeping up with the quick choreography and entranced by the intense studio atmosphere, I only lost focus twice: once, to wonder if the miniature fans I finally spotted by the front door were even on, and a second time to speculate about the origins of an array of crystals that surrounded the instructor podium. Both times, Dylan called me back, crying, “What do you feel in your heart?”

It all sounded absurd. It was absurd, absolutely absurd, but upsettingly, I couldn’t help but have a spectacular time. I finished with absolutely no way of quantifying my workout. I didn’t know if I was dripping sweat because the room was hot or because I was working hard or because I had been sucked into some SoulCycle “sympathy sweat” vortex with my classmates. Thrillingly, I didn’t actually care.

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Tag someone who will always be there to catch you 😌 📷: Bryce (@bryceknows) and Lissa (@lissansmith), NYC + NJ Instructors

I didn’t care, that is, until I contacted SoulCycle, as I did with every studio, to get the temperature setting in the class. I was routed to a PR representative who then declined to answer the question. Searching “SoulCycle temperature” online only turned up speculation that classes were tough because of the heat, not because of the workout. What made me determined to discover that number was the fact that they wouldn’t tell me.

SoulCycle is not an overtly competitive community. Unfortunately for them, I am an extremely competitive person and could see only one solution. I was going to have to return to SoulCycle, and this time, I would be armed with a thermometer.

The exclusive scoop? The Denver SoulCycle room was 72 degrees. Please tell everyone you know.

SoulCycle’s hallway and waiting area are crowded, with small signs posted in each locker to remind potentially blissed-out riders that the space is indeed co-ed (separate individual shower and changing rooms are available). Despite holding more than 50 sweaty bodies on both of my visits, the entire studio maintained the distinctively fruity-citrus aroma of a Jamba Juice.

Come to think of it, I bet they wouldn’t tell me how they do that either, so it’s possible I will have to go back a third time. Not because I’m hooked or anything. Just, you know, for science.

RELATED: When SoulCycle Denver opened in Denver, we sent someone to review it. Here’s what she had to say.

The CycleBar schedule boasts a tantalizing array of options, from the traditional Classic, Connect and Performance options to themed rides like Wine Down Wednesday, Happy Hour, Sunday Brunch and mysterious specialty classes like “Hotlanta,” “Hip Hop into Spring” and “Queen vs. Beyonce.”

“Our studio is about community and fun,” said Lisa Locker, owner of the LoHi, Tech Center and soon-to-open Union Station locations. That community, she let slip, includes John Elway. John Elway, in — allegedly — white bike shorts.

I opted to go for a classic class, but it was far from an average ride. The CycleBar bike computers may have the full suite of pro-level metrics — including power, heart rate and time — but the first direction from my instructor, Allie, was to focus just on cadence (that’s the speed of your spin, measured in rotations per minute).

She meant it. With the lights dimmed in the spacious, stadium-style studio and the remixed pop tunes cranking, she soon encouraged us to pedal as quickly as we possibly could: “Get that number above 110, above 120!” A typical riding-along number for a trained cyclist would be 80-100. “HUP, Denver!”

Here is what I know: Consistently spinning your legs at 120 rpms is something that would virtually never happen in a real-life cycling situation. Physiologically, it spikes your heart rate, but it won’t do much for leg strength or a sustained calorie burn. Nonetheless, spinning wildly with red lights flashing and music pulsing felt frivolous and fun and left me with a wide-eyed, breathless high. I did wonder idly if that light-headed thrill might create a concussion risk for riders who got too enthusiastic about the “Nose to your bars!” cue during rapid-fire push-up intervals.

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#Repost @lauratregz zero fun at work today – – – 80’s ride just because! Also, this babe @darciehuff is taking over my Fridays at 9:30a and she crushes it. 👊🏼 #cyclebar #cyclebardenver #cyclestars

Much of the class was spent standing, with intervals and movement patterns smartly choreographed song by song. The second half of the class included a brief session with a weighted bar and a lower-cadence simulated hill climb. As the session went on, I discovered an additional benefit to the cadence display. Allie tended to announce each song’s beats-per-minute to the class. That meant that if I couldn’t find the rhythm myself (likely), I could still blend with the group if I buried my nose in my monitor — though this did mean that I missed a few of Allie’s mesmerizingly precise, over-the-head, ponytail-flip sequences.

The atmosphere was social and chatty in the close-quarters atrium and locker area. (The studio is equipped with separate shower and bathroom stalls.) Employees stood ready when I arrived to help me check in, size my shoes, and adjust my bike. The community vibe carried over into the CycleTheater™, where displays showed statistics for the group as a whole rather than a head-to-head leaderboard, and we were encouraged to work together to boost the stats.

After class, I got an immediate email that congratulated me on rocking my ride (thank you), gave me data to tracking my class-to-class performance, and contained a link to Allie’s Spotify playlist in case I wanted to “keep the inspiration going.” It also gave me my class rank, revealing that not everything was collaborative as it seemed at CycleBar. It turns out that I had been part of a competition I did not realize was going on, and I did not win. This, above all other things, makes me want to return to CycleBar.

“If you would not do it on your bike outdoors, you will not do it on our indoor bikes,” Lori Melchior, founder of Epic Ryde, promised me. Accordingly, the class I attended included no push-ups, no hand weights, and no side-to-side, back-to-front choreography. It did, however, include a disco ball, because the session I picked was a sell-out, twice-a-week themed workout called “Guilty Pleasures Karaoke.”

It’s one thing to have your pedal stroke choreographed to the beat, but you can hit a whole different motivation level when Aretha (accompanied by the rest of the class) croons at you to turn up the resistance “just a little bit.” We were encouraged to stand or sit, as we preferred, throughout the class. I discovered that it’s not a bad middle-of-the-week activity to count how many Larimer Street evening pedestrians can get past Epic Ryde’s glass garage-door storefront without singing along.

The cheerful yellow interior of Epic Ryde has a minimalist, industrial aesthetic. The bikes are all equipped with computers that provide power, cadence, heart rate and speed data, and are laid out on a steep stadium slope that gives every participant a clear view of the instructor’s podium. Epic Ryde was founded with a passion for outdoor cycling, says Melchior, and aims to give its Ryders a workout that will pay off outside the gym.

Even the karaoke ride has an exercise-science basis. The bulk of an endurance athlete’s training plan is made of low-to-moderate intensity miles, which help build strength, efficiency and (should you be interested in such things) also provide the best fat-burning opportunity. Coaches describe that target effort zone as one in which you are working, but could still comfortably have a conversation. And, as my instructor, Peggy, pointed out, “If you can talk, you can sing.”

Flywheel has discovered my two greatest weaknesses: a bowl of free fruit and competition.

Two large screens loom at the front of the Flywheel cycle “stadium.” At opportune moments, they morph into the Torqboard, a real-time window into riders’ stats that revealed who was winning the fitness class. (Don’t worry: You can opt out of the public Torqboard when you register for class.) The display included a countdown clock, helping us keep track of exactly how many seconds were left as we pushed through a tough interval.

I arrived tired at Flywheel that day, but as soon as the screens lit up, I forgot about everything else except for an inexplicable need to win the Torqboard. I didn’t just want to beat my stranger-classmates. I needed to destroy them. To her credit, my instructor, Jen, deployed the board only strategically, when we might be in need of extra motivation. Nonetheless, I am quite certain I have not been tricked into riding a bike that hard since I raced professionally and got paid to compete.

While my class involved more time seated and more conventional high-intensity cycling intervals than at some of the other boutique studios, the majority still took place standing, with rhythmic, full-body maneuvers, flashing colored lights, and a brief arm-strength session with a lightly weighted bar. Jen was upbeat without being overbearing and provided a frequent “LEFT, right, LEFT, right,” metronome in an effort to help us keep up with a fast-paced, remixed, workout-hits playlist.

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Do you accept the Fly Challenge? 15 classes in 30 days (includes all class formats). You have until 1/21 to sign up. #FlyChallengeAccepted #NeverCoast 📸 @april_townsend

The stadium is a vast, tiered rotunda, with ample space between bikes and clear view lines to the instructor’s podium. The bikes are equipped with computers, but rather than use standard power measurements that are generally expressed in watts and kilojoules, Flywheel uses Torq (resistance), cadence (leg speed) and current (energy output at a certain point in time). This proprietary system made it tough to compare my performance in my Flywheel class to any past cycling workouts. Why they chose this system — and where on earth those numbers came from — was not something the studio representatives could explain. Efforts to get that information from company higher-ups proved similarly fruitless.

The studio itself was full of creative touches, like a wall of numbered pockets where we could retrieve our pre-requested shoes. There was plenty of staff on hand to help size me to my bike, and they explained that my fit numbers would be recorded in my file so that the next time I arrived, my bike would be personalized before I walked in the door.