A Community Defined by Loneliness

In a time like this one, we all search for something to depend on, something we can control. We can no longer control our entire lives, going to and from as we please, stopping for nothing and no one. Suddenly, we are forced to be conscious of the people around us and the way we interact. This new normal has inspired loneliness, and I am feeling hyperaware of the way one simple human interaction can change my day from meaningless to meaningful. Because without these interactions, we live in bubbles of ourselves and hopefully our families, waiting for a news report to tell us that the control is back in our hands. Until then, we wait and we search.

My search for connection during the Coronavirus pandemic has brought me to many places. It has encouraged me to wave to the runners I pass by on the streets throughout the day. It has inspired me to make extra eye contact with the grocery store cashier who shows up for our community every single day. Lastly, it has driven me to create communities in places they did not exist. For example, I have found communities in writing groups and book exchanges, having people sending me their most beloved pieces of literature and writing from across the world. Community has sprung up in people standing on balconies clapping for front line workers, revealing neighbors we have never spoken to. The most fulfilling community for me, however, has been the Peloton cycling community. Every day, without fail, I have snapped into my Peloton bike, put in my headphones, and transported to a world that is not stationed in my sister's old bedroom, rather in a studio in NYC. I sit across from Robin Arzon, Ally Love, Kendall Toole, or Alex Touissant and I peddle my feet until my quads are burning and sweat is dripping down my face. And in that seat, I regain my power. I take back the control that I lost, the plans interrupted, the lives stolen. I close my eyes and put my head down and bounce to the music. I straighten my spine, open my chest, and I hear my heartbeat's persistent rhythm. "She's still there," I think to myself, "Thank God."

Occasionally on these days, I will Facetime my sister and she will join me in a workout class. We will find connection through a screen, feeling together even though we are so far apart, and we will sweat and work until meetings get in the way and we're forced to hang up the phone.

In these short, 3o minute classes, I find comfort and livelihood. Whether it's a country ride or a intervals and arms ride, there is one thing that these instructors know how to give you no matter the day or time, and that's strength. Motivation. Peace. I find my fuel in the most breathless 30 minutes of my day. Once I get off the bike, I try and participate in a strength class, which could be upper body training, lower body training, or core training. Over time, I have seen real improvement. These classes have proved to me that work ethic still applies, that staying at home does not translate into sitting on my butt, and that hope is still to be found.

The beautiful thing about the Peloton community is that it is created by loneliness. The mom who needs a break from her children, the young adult who's just missed his graduation, the elderly man who is living alone. All of these people come together because they have realized that they need each other, that they cannot survive on their own. In the process of losing control, we realize that we have never truly been in control. We have always been dependent on other people lifting us up, reminding us who we are, and joining us in our battles. Humans exist to be together, to share. Maybe, just maybe, these classes remind me of the late night barbecues, the friendly get togethers, the family outings.

We all need a little togetherness sometimes. So, thank you, to the peloton community, the instructors and the riders, who have been supporting me on this journey without even knowing it. Thank you to the communities that have been formed as a result of loss, the prayers that have been said as a result of helplessness, and the strength we have found to give aid to the weak. All we can do is continue mounting our bikes, jumping in and out of the saddle to adapt, peddling our feet as the wind takes us to new places, and hoping that one day, we will ride our bikes all the way to a healthy, safe, and reunited world.