(Courtesy of SplashCycle)
If there is one thing I love, it’s a trendy workout class. I’ll admit it: I’m a sucker for anything where Swell bottles, Smartwaters and Lululemon-clad bodies abound. SoulCycle, Solidcore, PureBarre—you name it, I’ve probably paid an exorbitant fee to try it.
That’s why when I heard about SplashCycle, I knew I had to try it. It’s the first aquacycling class in D.C., and is hosted on the rooftop pool of The Embassy Hotel in Dupont Circle. Stationary bikes are placed underwater, and instead of changing the bike’s gears, participants pedal against the water’s resistance.
It has been incredibly popular this summer, and many of the classes have a waitlist. Just like a cronut, its elusiveness and scarcity has created a name for itself, so I was pretty pumped to score a spot in a 5 p.m. class this week.
4:50 p.m.: All throughout the lobby, there are signs advertising the roof’s happy hour deals. I briefly consider ditching this whole plan and just buying a beer.
4:51 p.m.: I arrive at the rooftop pool. It’s also about a million degrees outside in the July heat. Do I really want to work out on a sunbaked rooftop? If I have one beer and then walk home really quickly, maybe it’ll counterbalance the caloric intake…
4:52 p.m.: I suck it up and check into the class. A series of bikes are submerged in the pool in rows, and a group of older women are securing their visors and one-piece suits before getting in. The workout music is cranked up, and I can’t help but feel like I’m about to take a water aerobics class.
4:54 p.m.: The SplashCycle lady tells me to put my stuff down, head into the pool and grab a bike. She suggests I get one in the back, as I’m tall. No worries there. I have the coordination and stability of a Jell-O mold, and would rather not be on full display to the whole class as I aquatically flail about.
4:55 p.m.: I am a millennial, so naturally I must fill my hourly Snapchat quota. I take a quick video of the underwater bikes and send it off. I notice several people around me doing the same—basics of a feather flock together.
4:56 p.m.: I never thought I would be putting on water shoes while Justin Timberlake’s “Sexy Back” blasted in the background, but here we are. I look down at my feet, and am immediately reminded of my dad’s attire at the beach. Sexy back, indeed.
4:57 p.m.: I am officially in the water and on a bike! I pedal leisurely in my sports bra and shorts; it’s not nearly as hot when you’re submerged in water up to your shoulders. I don’t think this will be hard at all. I feel very peaceful and serene, like a modern-day Esther Williams. Maybe I’ll take up water ballet after this.
5:00 p.m.: Our instructor gets in the water and we start class. She is very fit and cheerful, a combination I normally do not trust in a human, but I decide to make an exception for her.
5:01 p.m.: We start with arms, moving them back in forth underwater while pedaling the whole time. Our instructor tells us to form cups with our hands to create more resistance. I’m waving my hands around like a small amphibious creature and trying not to giggle. This isn’t so bad.
5:05 p.m.: Okay, we’ve moved onto triceps and I’m starting to get kind of tired. We’re pulsing our arms in little increments underwater, and I feel like a Chihuahua that’s trying to doggy paddle but is failing horrifically.
5:07 p.m.: A group of hotel guests lays down in the reclining chairs behind the pool, watching us work out with fascination. I now know how the killer whales must feel at Sea World.
5:08 p.m.: A man walks by in his bathing suit with two cocktails in hand, giving one to his wife. I stare him down and try to communicate that he needs to grab one for me and surreptitiously pour it into my mouth from the edge of the pool, but I think I just freak him out.
5:15 p.m.: We’re doing abs now, waving our arms back and forth like a sprinkler to work our obliques. Our instructor is working out right along with us, and is somehow able to remain loud and cheerful. She asks the group if we’re having fun. The lady next to me makes a noise that’s somewhere between a guffaw and a sigh of defeat. I think we are soul sisters.
5:25 p.m.: Time for sprints. We start pedaling as fast as we can, the water kicking up all around us and creating a strong resistance against our legs. I am officially tired, and briefly consider just letting myself drown.
5:26 p.m.: There is a lot of water flying around here. I should have brought a snorkel.
5:28 p.m.: It’s a strange feeling, sweating in a pool. Is this why Michael Phelps is so fit?
5:30 p.m.: My gum falls out of my mouth mid-sprint, and I watch in horror as it begins to drift toward the back of the woman in front of me. I should not be allowed in public.
5:31 p.m.: Oh, god. It’s getting close. Brace for impact.
5:32 p.m.: Praise the powers that be for pool drains—that was a close call.
5:37 p.m.: We’re back to abs. Our instructor tells us to hold onto our bike handles, slide our feet off the pedals and extend our legs out straight so they’re parallel just below the water’s surface. We begin opening and closing them to the beat of a Ke$ha song to work our lower stomach muscles. Yes, this is as awkward as it sounds.
5:38 p.m.: My abs really hurt. I wonder if Ke$ha would like SplashCycle?
5:39 p.m.: As we continue to kick our legs up toward the sky, my new soul sister on the next bike says she feels like she’s at the gynecologist. I laugh so hard I inhale about half the water in the pool.
5:43 p.m.: We’re back to sprints to finish out the class. I decide to leave it all on the pool floor (metaphorically, of course), and pedal so hard my bike begins to scoot forward. I don’t realize this until I am uncomfortably close to the woman in front of me. I say a quick prayer of thanks that my gum didn’t land on her.
5:45 p.m.: We’re done! I waddle out of the pool in my squishy water shoes, my legs feeling like soggy noodles. I head over to my bag and check my phone. A bunch of my friends have replied to my Snapchat, asking how the class is. My eloquent reply: “haaaard” followed by a monkey-covering-the-eyes emoji, which is basically a five-star rating in my book. Well done, SplashCycle.
Classes take place Monday and Tuesday from every hour from 5 to 8 p.m., and Saturdays and Sundays from 9:45 – 10:30 a.m. Weekday classes cost $20 and weekends are $25.
