I was surrounded by palm trees, the unforgiving Caribbean sun, music in Spanish and sweat in the heart of Puerto Rico’s Botanical Garden of Caguas. I was at Me, Myself & I — the island’s most immersive wellness event — but I left with something far more personal: a deep sense of affirmation that wellness, when rooted in culture and community, is more than a trend. It’s a return to self. As a Latina millennial in wellness media and someone who was born and raised in Puerto Rico, this event felt like home. For the first time, it also felt like the fitness industry was finally meeting us where we were — a space where fitness tech met tradition in a way I hadn’t quite seen before. 

For Hispanic communities, mainstream wellness has often ignored our rhythms, values and lived experiences. This year, Me, Myself & I and Peloton challenged that narrative. The attendees were mostly Latina millennials and Gen Zers who — like me — don’t often see themselves represented in traditional fitness or wellness spaces. The event was started by two passionate Puerto Rican women: Melissa Jiménez and Nicole Bosch, who say they saw a gap in how wellness was delivered to women on the island. “Wellness is more than a trend; it’s a movement that empowers individuals to feel good, and we are committed to creating a space where our community can experience that transformation,” said Melissa Jiménez, founder, and Nicole Bosch, event director of Me, Myself & I.

It began as a small event a decade ago and has become a full-day experience, attracting thousands of attendees. The Peloton instructors led classes in Spanish, which not only reflected but honored the audience it was in front of. Peloton’s presence at Me, Myself & I wasn’t just a flex. It was a sign that fitness tech brands should pay attention to the people they’re trying to serve. Here’s what happened when they did.  

The power of representation in fitness

Peloton’s presence at the festival wasn’t performative. It was intentional and showed what culturally inclusive fitness can look like.

Instructors Camila Ramón, Mariana Fernández and Rad Lopez led classes across strength training, yoga, shadowboxing and even outdoor running — all in Spanish. As a Latina who’s used the Peloton app for years, I can tell you that matters.

“It means everything to me to be leading classes in Spanish. One of my main missions is to have as many people moving as possible and making them feel good about moving and exercise,” said Camila Ramón, Peloton instructor and headliner at the event.

Too often, people whose native language isn’t English, like me, are forced to mentally translate cues (which can disrupt the flow of a workout).

“Peloton provided the gateway to teach in my language and my native tongue. But now to come and teach a class in Spanish in a place that I fell in love with three years ago, with people who have welcomed me with open arms, feels very surreal,” said Mariana Fernández, yoga teacher for Peloton.

This wasn’t exclusively about making workouts more accessible. It was about building a bridge between the platform and the people it hopes to serve.

For me, representation in fitness isn’t about who’s on the stage. It’s about who’s in the room, who’s spoken to and who gets to feel seen without explanation. It was clear from the moment I stepped onto the grounds that this wasn’t a wellness event built for someone else with a few “diverse” add-ons. It was built with our culture in mind.

I’ve covered many wellness events over the years, and they often blend together: New York City rooftops, influencer-heavy attendees and the same polished aesthetic. But this was different because it was deeply local and felt proudly Latina. The crowd reflected the richness of our community: Afro-Latinas with their natural hair and bold colors, moms, daughters and tías meditating side by side. Gen Z girls doing breathwork with glitter in their hair.

Representation here wasn’t symbolic. It was systemic. It showed up in who planned the event, who taught the classes, and who attended. Jiménez and Bosch didn’t just create “a vibe.” They made an ecosystem where culture and wellness were interwoven into every detail. 

When Ramón says “dale duro” in class, it’s not merely a cue. It’s a cultural shorthand that carries a meaning you can’t translate. That’s the power of representation. It speaks to your body and your story.

Rarely do we discuss why representation matters. Peloton’s representation at this event also challenges the industry norm that progress in wellness must be measured in numbers. Here, success looked like joy, rest and connection.

This festival didn’t solely promote wellness. It redefined it. It showed that fitness tech doesn’t have to be cold, detached or purely corporate. It can be warm. It can be familiar. It can meet people where they are — linguistically, culturally and emotionally.

For the Latina community, this wasn’t just a fitness event. It proved that we also belong at the center of wellness innovation, not at the margins. And while this may have been a one-day festival, the ripple effect of that kind of representation (especially when backed by a major player in fitness tech like Peloton) can stretch far beyond the garden walls. It makes us feel welcomed and included.

As someone who grew up in Puerto Rico, I felt an emotional pull I wasn’t expecting. I left the island in my early 20s to pursue my career. And while my identity deeply influences my work, I don’t always get to center it. By now, I’m used to toggling between worlds. I code-switch. I translate. I adapt. But here, there was no need to switch anything off. I got to be a Latina, an editor and a wellness enthusiast, and it all made sense within the same space. This day felt like a homecoming.

Fitness tech isn’t enough. Community within wellness spaces matters

It’s easy to forget, especially when we’re deep into the fitness apps, streaming workouts and sleek, new devices that wellness was never meant to be a solo journey. Yet, so much of fitness tech has leaned into individualism (tracking your progress, your stats, your goals).

At this event, I was reminded that community is the missing piece. Wellness isn’t solely about what you do alone in your living room on your yoga mat with the latest earbuds for working out or even training with the smartest home gym possible. It’s also about who is sweating next to you and cheering you on. 

In Fernández’s Alma & Flow class, I didn’t need to explain why dancing to pop songs in Spanish mid-savasana made sense. It just did. That shared rhythm created instant belonging.

Fitness tech alone can’t create that kind of energy, but it can amplify it. That’s why Peloton’s presence here on the island didn’t feel transactional. The brand didn’t just offer free trials and film us for Instagram likes. It showed up in Spanish on our island in partnership with local leaders.

Lopez’s shadowboxing class, Todo Boxeo, made this especially clear. It was a call to connect through movements that were both ancestral and modern. We moved as a unit, feeding off each other’s energy.

“When you see a room full of people who look like you, move like you and speak like you — it hits different,” Lopez told me.

I’ve been covering wellness and fitness long enough to understand how easy it is for brands to lean into metrics and machines over meaning. AI-generated training plans, real-time heart rates, personalized leaderboards — it’s all impressive tech but often emotionally sterile. Many platforms still miss the mark on something essential — how it feels to move. The best fitness tech doesn’t only help you move. It makes you feel welcome, included and seen.

I wasn’t just impressed by the fact that Peloton showed up to this event — I was more impressed with how it did so. Peloton’s presence didn’t feel like a marketing drop-in. It felt like a case study in how fitness tech brands can be more thoughtful and human in their approach.

Each attendee received a QR code for 60 days of free access to the Peloton app. On the surface, this could be perceived as a mere tactic for growth. But given the context, it felt like an invitation to extend the event’s energy into people’s daily fitness routines. More importantly, it got me thinking about how fitness apps can be more than digital tools; they can be cultural translators. This was an opportunity for attendees who may not typically see themselves reflected in the digital fitness world to experience what it feels like to be welcomed and seen and hear cues in their native language.

This is where fitness tech can shine: it supports tradition and enhances culture by centering diverse people, not just performance.

What motivates a Latina mom in Puerto Rico might not be what moves a runner in Boston or a college student in LA. True personalization goes beyond data points. It considers context and values.

Where fitness tech brands can go from here

As the sun set behind the palm trees, I felt sore, sweaty and profoundly whole. For the first time, the wellness industry met me exactly where I was: on my island, in my language, surrounded by people who look like me, think like me and move like me.

I want to see more of that kind of tech — not merely innovative but deeply human.

What Peloton did at this event is a blueprint for other fitness tech brands. If companies want to deepen their impact with diverse audiences, Peloton just showed you how. Your tech should be accessible, inclusive, language-conscious and localized. The app might be digital, but the connection should feel human. The instructors might be remote, but their voices can still feel close to home.