A few weeks ago, I looked at my Platoon, upset. The last time I used the bike was last year, even before I moved into this apartment. Now it just takes up space, collecting dust in my spare room. (Occasionally, it serves as a coat rack.) I decided to sell it.
Or, at least, I tried: the resale market is crowded, with some bikes selling on Craigslist or Facebook Marketplace for 50% of their original price, starting at $1,895 (or $2,245, depending on when you bought them). In New York City, where I live, a recent Craigslist search returned 106 pages of results for bikes for sale, most of them Pelotons. “I just want it to go away,” read one seller’s post. It’s a similar story in Austin, Texas, where some people have priced their Pelotons between $600 and $700; In Chicago, a vendor posted a seven-word short story: “Peloton cycling shoes size 39 worn once.” the The pandemic may not be over, but it looks like this pandemic-era trend might.
It wasn’t always like this. In September 2020When I bought my Peloton, the company said it had more than 1.09 million connected fitness subscribers, up 113% from the previous year, and about 3.1 million total members. Like so many others, I bought the bike and immediately joined the cult. I would start my days with a half-hour ride, taught by instructors with whom I came to have a one-sided, first-name relationship (Cody, Alex, Ally, Robin!). I’d do a 30-minute “club bangers walk” after work. He rode for 60 minutes on the weekends. What else was he doing, anyway?
Like so many others, I bought the bike and immediately joined the cult.
But in the spring of 2021, I got vaccinated and my world re-emerged, albeit in fits and starts. I went back to bars and restaurants, went on vacation and started working out with a strength trainer instead of concentrating on cardio. I soon realized that it was a relief to get away from the bike, that it had a tendency to make me obsess over metrics and numbers rather than whether I was actually getting a good workout and having fun. (Although, once again: what else was he doing, anyway?)
As my own Platoon languished, so did the company’s numbers. As 2021 and 2022 progressed and the economy reopened, sales of connected fitness products like Peloton slowed. In January 2022, Peloton temporarily production stopped of its products as demand faltered. A few weeks later, the company laid off 2,800 workers — about 20% of its corporate workforce. Today, its $3 billion market capitalization is a fraction of its all-time high of nearly $50 billion in January 2021. The company, which has lost money for six straight quarters, reported a quarterly loss of $1.2 billion in September.
In recent months, Peloton has tried to win back customers, reopening an in-person studio in New York City this summer and adding a $3,195 rowing machine to its line of fitness equipment this fall. The company has tried to sell its products on Amazon, and even tried to compete with the secondary market itself, conducting a brief trial this August of its certified used bike program, which allows people to buy secondhand Pelotons through the company. Meanwhile, SoulCycle took a low shot, offering to entice Peloton riders by letting them trade in their bikes for 47 SoulCycle classes at the studio. (It’s a fair trade: At $35 each, 47 SoulCycle classes is about equal to the cost of the bike, which is now $1,445.)
It all seems to come too late for many former fans. I like it tie dye sweatshirts Y instant pots, Peloton may feel like a stalled trend in 2020, and who wants to stay there? Abby, who lives in the Bay Area and bought the Peloton from her in April 2020, says her bike was hers “her ticket to feeling like a person again in the first few months.” Eventually, though, she wasn’t so relaxing. “I almost started to associate it with the pain and isolation of the pandemic,” she said. “Ultimately, I decided to rejoin a local yoga studio in person that I love instead of keeping up with my bike payment and rising membership cost.” (Earlier this year, Peloton made changes to its subscription pricing structure. As of June 1, the cost of membership has increased from $39 to $44 per month.) In May 2022, Abby sold her bike.
“I almost started associating [the Peloton] with the pain and isolation of the pandemic.”
Similarly, some once-devoted users told me that while they initially loved their Peloton because of its online community, they eventually grew tired of pedaling alone in their apartment. Corey Kindberg, an advertising agency director of strategy, sold his Peloton Bike+, the brand’s premium offering, before moving from New York to Los Angeles in 2021. “I rode that thing religiously for a while and really loved it, but then the allure of that really wore off,” he said. “I actually started hating that he was just sitting in my apartment making fun of me.” Solo rides just didn’t do it for him. “The magic of spin class for me was not the exercise, but the energy in the room,” he said. “I wasn’t getting that on the bike. It wasn’t the same.
To be fair, Peloton does offer in-person classes. in his New York studio – but obviously not all Peloton lovers live in New York. Allison Dapper, an attorney in Washington, DC, struggled to become a Peloton person, despite having been a spin class person. “I liked being able to exercise at any time,” she said. “But really, no one forced me to stay on the bike for the entire class or push myself to the limit.” In October 2021, she sold hers for $1,000.
Other hopeful sellers have discovered that they are stuck with their bikes, at least for now. Yael Berger, a public relations professional based in New York City, bought the Peloton from her in August 2020. Now, she’s looking to sell. (She’s still a Peloton person at heart, she says, but now she’s training for the New York City Marathon and has a regimented exercise program that focuses on running with little room to turn.) But she still hasn’t parted with her bike. , in part due to the current state of the Peloton resale market. “The resale market just isn’t worth it right now,” she said. “I bought my bike for about $2,000, so to get just $500 in return, I could keep it and use it whenever I want.”
Another possible reason people are on top of their Pelotons: The tides are turning in terms of how we think about wellness. After all, Peloton isn’t alone in its wobble. Despite its recent dig at Peloton, SoulCycle isn’t doing much better: In August, the company Announced would close 25% of their studies. Many people I talked to who decided to get rid of their Pelotons didn’t go back to punishing, high-intensity training classes; instead, they mentioned embracing new forms of fitness such as hiking, weight lifting, yoga, and Pilates. These activities are difficult, sure, but it’s a type of sustained difficulty, relying on strength and endurance. In general, activities like hiking or yoga are less intense and metric-driven than popular pre-pandemic workouts like SoulCycle or OrangeTheory or, yes, Peloton.
It’s part of a general trend in fitness that journalist Rina Raphael observed in a recent newsletter: Gen Z is rejecting the hyperproductive and “hustle culture” elements of wellness and fitness that characterized the millennial era. Life is hard enough, why should our workouts be harder?
Then again, maybe it’s not that deep. It’s quite common for people to abandon their fitness technology once the novelty wears off, said Raphael, who is the author of the new book. The Gospel of Wellness: Gyms, Gurus, Goop, and the False Promise of Self-Care. “You often heard the same thing with Fitbits: A high percentage of consumers got tired of their trackers and tossed them in a drawer after six months,” he said. “At the end of the day, you have to love what a tech product offers to keep it. Otherwise, you’ll get bored and move on to the next big fitness fad.”
I’m not sure what will become of my own Platoon. I’ll first try downloading it to a friend in my neighborhood, and if that fails, I’ll sell it at a discount on Craigslist. I got everything I needed and now it’s time to move on. As one vendor in New York said: I just want it to go away.
