In New York, a Rivalry Shifts Into High Gear

FOUR years ago, three women opened a candlelit cycling studio called SoulCycle in the back of a lobby on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, charging $27 a class. At the time, stationary cycling was a ho-hum staple of traditional gyms, and this place had no showers, and no room to maneuver in its cramped hallway. What self-respecting Manhattanite would pay a premium to pedal 45 minutes to nowhere?

As it turned out, quite a few. SoulCycle has expanded to five locations (with six more planned), including one in Bridgehampton, N.Y., where Chelsea Clinton, a loyal client, held a fund-raiser for Haiti in August that collected $118,783. Other fans include Kelly Ripa and Brooke Shields, who come for the improbably energetic teachers: motivational speakers in Spandex who bellow things like “You are strong.” Acolytes weeping on the bike are not uncommon; nor are men yelping for joy mid-ride. Reservations are made online (sessions now are $36 in the Hamptons and $32 elsewhere), and front-row bikes with top instructors are claimed within minutes.

But SoulCycle also now has muscular competition in the form of Flywheel Sports — founded in February by Ruth Zukerman, one of SoulCycle’s original three founders and onetime star instructor, with Tiki Barber, a former professional football player who used to take her class with his wife (Mr. Barber’s affiliation with Flywheel has since ended after news of an extramarital affair surfaced). Two other Flywheel locations have opened, at the Jewish Community Center on the Upper West Side, and in Sag Harbor, N.Y., with five more in the works.

Ms. Zukerman, known for her emotionally charged teaching style, left SoulCycle in November under circumstances that she said she is legally restricted from discussing.

The remaining founders, Elizabeth Cutler and Julie Rice, seem intent on expunging their former partner from their past. The company story at SoulCycle’s Web site doesn’t even mention her. Last Thursday, in a joint interview with Ms. Rice, Ms. Cutler said simply, “Ruth worked with us for a time. We decided to part ways. We wish her the best.” Yet they seemed visibly uncomfortable: hands tucked between their toned thighs, as if bracing for impact.

Since Flywheel’s start, plenty of Ms. Zukerman’s fans have defected.

Jessica DeCostole, 30, went to SoulCycle for three years and was surprised to find Ms. Zukerman gone one Saturday when she showed up for her cherished ride. “I was really upset,” said Ms. DeCostole, a graduate student at Columbia. “You get emotionally addicted to Ruth’s class. You have a release of energy and stress.” Ms. DeCostole has become a regular at Flywheel, along with many of her former SoulCycle mates. For all she knows, they ride at both, but she said she would never. “It would be wrong to go to both of them,” she said solemnly.

“It’s personal in a way,” said Alexia Brue, who has compared the two studios for her wellness blog, wellandgoodnyc.com. “Team Flywheel and team SoulCycle, it’s like team Angelina and team Jennifer.” One woman whispered in the narrow hall outside Ms. Zukerman’s class at the Jewish Community Center that she thought cyclists who wear SoulCycle apparel to a Flywheel ride were rude. (Two women, seated nearby, were wearing it.)

Kate Hickl, a sinewy-armed former SoulCycle teacher now with Flywheel, said that some riders who double-dip feel the need to confess, as if loyalty is required. “You don’t need to give me a disclaimer,” she said she tells them.

Ms. Hickl, 31, was part of an ugly custody battle of sorts between the two studios. Last November, she said, she was “unceremoniously” let go from SoulCycle without severance pay or much of an explanation.

“Obviously there was guilt by association,” she said. “Ruth was my mentor. I was very close with her. We shared a lot of the same clientele.” By summer, Ms. Hickl had decided that “everything happens for a reason” and decided not to pursue an instructor’s finder fee she said she was owed by her former employer.

Then, in June, SoulCycle sued Ms. Hickl for the return of $2,075 the company had lent her to secure an apartment rental. Ms. Hickl appeared in small claims court four times before the matter was resolved. On Sept. 30, it was ruled that Ms. Hickl would have to repay $1,500 to SoulCycle, which Flywheel and Tricera Partners, the venture capital firm that manages it, has offered to cover.

BOTH SoulCycle (which just introduced a resistance-band class) and Flywheel (which offers the TorqBoard, a real-time way to compare your effort to others) sell more than just an intense full-body workout on a bike. When taught by their most talented instructors, such as the hard-charging Holly Rilinger (Flywheel) or the ultra-relaxed dancing-in-the-aisles Stacey Griffith (SoulCycle), their cathartic rides offer inspiration. (Stop laughing.)

Ms. Brue, the blogger, frequents both studios. “I think it speaks to what a great brand SoulCycle has created that just like the restaurant of the moment, it feels like the place to be, much more than Flywheel,” she said. “Flywheel has created an experience that may be athletically superior,” but it “doesn’t have that same scene-y feel.”