Fitness

Spiderbands

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You know what I always dreamed of? Using bungee cords hung from the ceiling for an hour-long cardio and toning class that kept me engaged and sweating the whole time. JK, I never dreamed of it because I didn’t even know it was possible, but FitForFreeNYC made my non-dream become a reality, because she came through yet again with a freebie at Spiderbands!

Ever since I took a free yoga class and free BollyX class from following Alexa Lippman’s blog and Instagram, I have been keeping a close eye on her posts, and it has paid off again and again. This past week was definitely the best yet. On November 27th, she posted a boomerang and said that if you created an account during the month of November, the first class would be totally free until December 28. That meant I had 3 days to claim the class! I dropped all of my Macy’s Parade and Thanksgiving plans and signed up STAT. I also told 8 of my friends to sign up. Five of them did, too! We decided to take a class together and we even set calendar reminders to sign up right when the spots opened, because all classes for the week open up at 1:00 pm on Mondays. Long story short, all of my friends bailed (literally, all 5 of them), but I went anyway, by myself, and it was a BLAST. AND a fabulous workout!

Generally the first class is $20. You may have missed the opportunity for a free class, but the good news is, for the month of December, it’s BOGO! (I picked this tip up from FitForFree as well.) At $17/class, that’s even less than the first class special. And trust me, you’ll want to do it more than once.

The Spiderbands location has two studios in it, which have different bands in them. The downstairs studio is for Spiderbands, the original band. There are five different possible classes with those bands. The upstairs one is Spider Flyzone, where the pace is slower so you can perfect your technique and work on acrobatic skills, either with or without a partner. When I walked into the Union Square location, they were super nice and inviting, gave me a tour of the studios and the locker room (VERY modern and clean), and explained the lockers to me. They also informed me that cell phones were not allowed in the rooms at all, which made me thankful I was early so I could snap some quick shots of the place before we started!

Even on the original Spiderbands, there are five different options of classes, some using trampolines and even boxing bags! Since it was my very first class, I decided to go for the Signature Spiderbands, taught by the one and only CREATOR of the band itself, Franci Cohen. The bands have only one adjustment: the height of the handles on the bands can either be on high, or low. Being 5’11”, clearly I was high (DUH LONG LEGS big city). Then I was ready to go. Franci explained that to keep things simple, each segment of the class would be four moves, and she would teach one, practice it, and add one on at a time. We started with a cardio warmup, which followed the same 4-move format. We began by jumping with our hands on the bar of the band, doing different movements from things like spider jumps (like a side to side skater jump), and jumping jacks, and running forward and back, all while pushing on the resistance of the bands with our arms. I found out quickly that the upper body and cardio were going to be the tough parts. With all of my spinning, the squats were nothing compared to the constant resistance on my shoulders and arms from the pressure of trying to hold the band down against the resistance from the ceiling. The four-move-max really helped because I could concentrate more on the movements and good form than on remembering the next move. I did enjoy the fact that it seemed a little choreographed, since I am a fan of step aerobics and other dance-y-type things, it kept things interesting to change up the moves. However, since it was a max of 4 moves to remember at a time, it didn’t take a very coordinated person to catch on.

The floor of the studio was very bouncy, which is helpful for knees, but I was a little bit worried about my ankle stability on the one leg jumping movements, since I had a double sprain earlier in the year. Overall, though, the floor made it more fun, and we were able to do a larger range of things, with bigger range of motion. For example, my favorite move of the class was when we held on the bar, walked backwards, dropped our butts down to the floor, rolled back like we were going to do a backward somersault, touched our toes to the bar, and then rolled back up to standing position, all without letting go of the bar. I got stuck on the floor the first time, but Franci cued that if we backed up further, the bands would have tighter resistance which would help us get back up, and sure enough, it worked. There were 25 available spots in the class, but we only had about 14 people, which was great because Franci could walk around and help each of us out! 4 of those empty bands were from my friends who bailed! THANKS FRIENDS!

Overall, I left the class super sweaty and I had a BLAST! The class went by FAST, ended with 5 minutes of tough ab moves, also utilizing the Spiderbands and arms, by sitting on the floor and doing different moves like variations of reverse crunches, and I was sore for a few days. I would definitely recommend going back. In fact, I may snap a BOGO 2 more class before that deal expires in 4 days!

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Big City Living

First Snow

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It’s December! That means that although we had a freaky 50-degree day yesterday, the first snow of the season is upon us! And the second… and the third…

Remember 2 weeks ago when we were wearing short-sleeved shirts and wondering when winter was going to arrive? Well I think it’s made its debut. Soon, the city will be pretty nasty and slushy, as it always gets, but nothing beats that very first snow of the season.

12 days ago, we had our first big snow. And it snowed ALL. DAY. LONG. My best friend from high school was due to fly into NYC that morning, and I was almost sure that her flight would be canceled or delayed. But… miracle of miracles, she landed on time! It took her hours to get from the airport to my house due to the #SummerOfHell continued, aka #WinterOfHell with MTA, but that’s a whole different story.

This year we have been lucky because the first few snows have completely melted, the city is dry, and we will now be gifted a SECOND FIRST SNOW. Since we have been given this rare gift, I decided to compile a list of do’s and don’t for the first snow (or SECOND FIRST SNOW) vs. the 2nd, 3rd, 4th etc. snows. These are very useful tips, so feel free to bookmark this page for future use.

FIRST SNOW:

  • DO wear cute clothes. There will be photos. Which leads me to my next point…
  • DO take photos. It will never look this pretty again. Until the next year.
  • DO make a snowman, or a snow angel. This will be the last snow you can safely touch for the year.
  • DO post about it on social media. How else will everyone know it’s snowing outside?? By looking out the window?? Who does that anymore? Also…
  • DO boomerang. Snow is made for boomerangs. Jump in it. Ball it up. Throw it. Sled in it. So many action shots.
  • DO have fun! White pretty stuff is falling from the sky and the world is your own personal children’s storybook!
  • DON’T forget how to walk. Yes, I know it’s slippery. Walk carefully, but not like a tourist. We still have places to go. Separate but related:
  • DON’T stop to take a photo in the middle of the sidewalk. Yes, def take photos, I already said that above. But go to Central Park. It’s prettier there. Or at least move to the side of the sidewalk and yield to pedestrians.
  • DON’T use an umbrella. Come on guys. It won’t help. You know. I know. Let’s stop pretending.
  • DON’T run down subway stairs. SPLAT. No train is worth that. Even if you have to wait 15 minutes for the next one (get your sh*t together, MTA). I’ve had two sprained ankles to prove this.
  • DON’T forget how beautiful it is. It won’t be like this for very long…

SECOND (third, fourth fifth etc.) SNOW:

  • DO cover your head. Things will be melting, city juice abounds. No one knows what it is, but suffice it to say you don’t want it on your head.
  • DO wear whatever layers you have, cute or not. After you’ve taken your “first snow” pics, the jig is up. The snow seems to radiate cold after a while. It’s like black concrete for heat.
  • DO wear snow boots. Duck boots. Any and all waterproof boots.
  • DO be aware of the mystery slush piles. I mentioned this in my first blog EVER about Tips for NYC Living, but remember, it may LOOK like it’s 1 inch deep, but it could be 10. Do you really want to take that risk??
  • DO complain about it social media. Yes, everyone else will be doing it, too, but misery loves company, right?
  • DON’T wear suede boots. Or suede anything for that matter. You will be splashed. It will not be pretty.
  • DON’T go into work if you are gifted a snow day. That means checking your work email from bed if there is even a 10% chance of snow for the day. DON’T risk getting ready if it is not necessary.
  • DON’T forget about scaffolding. It is your friend. There is dry, non-icy, non-slushy ground below it. Sprint to it (carefully).
  • DON’T forget to take a mid-winter vacation to a warm, beachy place. But also DON’T forget to check the weather first. Airport delays in the snow = more miserable than sitting at home in the snow.

And DON’T forget to pass this list along to a friend and keep it handy, as I am sure we will all be needing it soon.

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Big City Living

Christmas at Rolf’s

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Do you love Christmas decorations as much as me? Enough to wait out in the 25 degree cold for over an hour? Enough to “waste” a half day of work by standing in the cold, and then standing in a bar like packed sardines, drinking barely above-par drinks that will not get you drunk and cost $17 each? You do? Cool. You should go to Rolf’s.

I went last week, and I did not regret it at all. Yes, we waited. 75 minutes, in fact. Yes, I was sick as a dog and trying not to cough on everyone in line around me. (I may have scared a few people away, it could have been an 85-minute wait if it were not for my handy-dandy hacking cough!).

Rolf’s is a German restaurant near Gramercy. It’s known for its schnitzel. But more, it’s known for its Christmas decorations. And don’t fret if you’re leaving NYC in a few days for the holidays, or if you’re not coming to NYC until New Year’s Eve (not recommended, FYI), according to the Rolf’s website, their Christmas decorations will be up until May. And they are epic. They have been written up in Thrillist, Time Out NY, NY Mag… the list goes on. I dare you to google “Rolf’s NYC” and just look at the images. Or read on, I took approximately 900 photos.

I had heard about Rolf’s for years, but like most too-cool-for-school New Yorkers, I figured it was mostly hype. But here’s the issue, I’m not a too-cool-for-school New Yorker when it comes to Christmas. I go see the Rockefeller Center tree every year. And the Saks 5th Ave. light show. And I’ve seen the Rockettes Christmas Spectacular numerous times. I am obsessed with Christmas. So obsessed that even New York tourist crowds will not deter me. Yes, my Jewish mother is proud.

I threw caution to the wind, met my friend who had taken the day off of work, and plopped myself at the back of the queue. It extended half an avenue. For you non-New Yorkers out there… that’s long. We kept warm by marching in place and complaining about the cold. As most locals do, the best way to deal with any weather whatsoever is to complain about it. I am a pro.

After 75 minutes we finally were allowed entry. Unfortunately, we found out that you were not allowed to sit at a table unless you were ordering full entrees. And those menus were crazy price-gauged. The entrées ranged from $40-$70 for German street food. We tried to ask for a table for appetizers and drinks, but they said no. Bar only. It worked out for the best because the bar is where most of the decorations are. Well, sort of. This place looked like Father Christmas threw up all over it. Then ate it back up, then regurgitated it again. Gross analogy, but for real. The ceiling was DRIPPING with lights, ornaments, and my favorite, super creepy dolls peeking out of everywhere. On the mirror about the bar, there was even more, plus a beautiful wreath.

Have you heard the saying #DoItForTheGram? Well, this place was invented for that. Everyone and their mother (literally… there were a few families in there), were trying to take photos. Unfortunately, the place was so incredibly packed that most photos were from way too close up! Every time a person left, their spot was filled by someone trying to take a photo from 2 feet away, within 30 seconds. It was basically human Jenga.

The place is supposedly famous for its many kinds of Schnapps, but I did not look any further than their seasonal cocktail menu. After waiting in the cold for over an hour, you’d think I would have tried the mulled wine or hot cider. But no, I decided for an icy holiday treat – some sort of Baileys + Cinnamon concoction, complete with a cinnamon stick for garnish. It was not strong at all, but boy was it yummy. Worth $17? Hell no. But the photos were!! I highly recommend going, solely for the pics. Then go literally across the street to the diner, like we did, for a meal at a quarter of the price. And watch all of the cold people in line for Rolf’s as you eat your warm food.

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Long Legs and other Personal Problems

My Worst First

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It’s been nearly two months since the #MeToo movement struck the internet. Two months and many many many sexual assault accusations. So many, that it’s hard to keep up. You can find a handy-dandy list of “Powerful People in Entertainment Who Have Been Accused of Sexual Harassment or Assault” on the Teen Vogue website. And that article was published before another hard-hitter was announced last week, trophy child of NBC, Matt Lauer. In fact, there are lists like this popping up everywhere, including the New York Times, which has a chart with the accusation, the fallout, and the response. These are the times we live in, we need a chart to keep track. But am I surprised? No.

When the monstrosity of a bomb of Harvey Weinstein came out, and then in quick succession Louis CK, Charlie Rose, and many others on the chart, my female coworker said to me, “I can’t believe it; can you believe it?” And my answer? OF COURSE I CAN. Why would it not be true that men in power, men who are famous and have access to flocks of women, use their power to prey on women? Why would men in power choose not to prey on women, when ordinary, run-of-the-mill men do it, and get away with it, every day?

Two months ago, when the #MeToo movement began, I had trouble posting on social media. I didn’t feel it was necessary because of course me too. Because like, DUH, EVERYONE WHO HAS A VAGINA HAS BEEN VIOLATED. My emoji boyfriend, in light of the Al Franken situation asked me recently if anyone has ever “cupped my butt” as women allege Franken did in photos. And my answer is the same: of course. Because I am a female and that is what it means to be a female. So why should I bother posting #MeToo? To enlighten people? Are there really people out there to whom it would be surprising or eye-opening to see that these things happen to women? The answer, I guess, is yes. People seem to be surprised every day there is a new celebrity found to have acted improperly, whether it be inappropriate touching, fondling, rape, etc. And yes, I realize I just used the phrase “rape, etc.” That is the state of the world.

Ultimately, I decided to post one tweet, simply with the hashtag. No Facebook post, no story of my experiences (yes, plural), and no explanation. It felt like glorifying the perpetrator to put any story on the internet. Also, I worried, “what if people don’t think my story ‘counts’ and it isn’t ‘enough’?”

Have bad things happened to me? Sure. Were there “little” things like butt-grabs? Unwanted advances? Unwanted kisses? Yes. Was there also someone who said I “had to say yes because I set a precedent?” Also yes. Were there things that I could have pressed charges for? Yes. Yes to all of the above. There were worse things than the story I’m going to tell, and there were things that were “not as bad.” And I’m sure there will be more. I’m in a relationship now, which insulates me from a lot of the unwanted advances that come along with dating, but I am still a female, and I still leave my house, which means I am still vulnerable to any and all unwanted interactions with the opposite sex.

This story is specifically about my worst first blind date. In my humble opinion, it was one for the books. Which also makes it one for the blog. It’s a personal story, but I’m hoping that people connect to it. At various stages in the story, there were points where I felt uncomfortable. Where I wasn’t sure if a line had been crossed, but I knew I was uncomfortable. We are socialized as women to be easygoing and accommodating. To go with the flow. Sometimes, situations are confusing in the moment with things happening quickly around you, spinning out of control, and you don’t know until years later, looking back, just how wrong it was from the beginning. In the moment, it seems like maybe you said one wrong thing, or maybe if you had just worn a different outfit, or if you had just been firmer, then this wouldn’t have happened and he would have understood. But the reality is, there’s not much you can do in hindsight except tell your story.

Let me set the scene: It’s 2011, I’m a 2L in law school. I have been single for a little more than 2 years, dating here and there, using tinder, OKCupid, the works, but nothing was sticking. I had met a few guys where we had 2-3 month flings (let’s not make them more serious than they were), and after a few months, when it got to the point where they had to probably make it official or break it off, they all ghosted. Or in the rare chivalrous case, they did the fade-away, and not the full-on ghost. Anyway, point is, dating was not really working for me. So one night, after lamenting the single life over a few drinks, my friend told me he wanted to set me up. He told me he had a friend from childhood that he thought was perfect for me. He was tall (check!), into athletics, martial arts specifically, (check!), he lived locally (Long Island… but sort of check!), and he was single (CHECK CHECK CHECK). Clearly my standards were not set too high. But the dating apps were trash, so I said sure, why not?

This wasn’t a totally blind date because my friend knew him, let’s call him Freddy, so my friend promptly texted Freddy and told him to add me on Facebook and sent him my number. Within 5 minutes of me agreeing to a date, we were Facebook friends. For the next week, I spoke with the mystery man. Freddy called me a couple times over the next week to chat. I was impressed. Guys NEVER call. I was lucky at that point in my dating life if a guy replied to one of my texts within 4 hours! Freddy and I chatted on the phone for over an hour. Sure, sometimes I felt like his questions were intrusive, and a bit inappropriate. Why did he need to know what I was wearing? But hey, I was in law school. The answer was “sweatpants and a hoodie” almost every time. Why not let him know what he is in for? The last time we spoke on the phone before meeting in real life, he asked me what color underwear I was wearing. In hindsight, maybe this was a red flag and I should have canceled the date. But in the moment, I was like “black, got to go to sleep, see you tomorrow!”

The day of our date was not special for any reason. At this point I had been on many many first dates. Tinder is great for first dates… 2nd? Not so much. I did not put much thought into my outfit for the date. I wore a casual denim skirt and cute shirt with flip flops, in case Freddy wasn’t as tall as my friend said. He had picked a divey bar on the west side, since he was coming from the Long Island Railroad at Penn Station.

When I got to the bar, he gave me a hug and we sat down and ordered a drink. Right away, he put his hand on my leg. I thought it was a bit forward, but as a female who has been out in the world a few times, I just took his hand and placed it back on his own leg. We continued chatting about random topics, and every once in a while he would slip in an inappropriate question, which I would laugh off. I was thinking, “this guy thinks he is slick, but really, I am slicker!” Plus, obviously I was not wearing the same underwear as the night before, duh. Yes, he asked me that.

Meanwhile, three more times in the next half-hour, his hand magically appeared on my leg, slightly higher than the time before, and three more times I silently placed it back on his own. At one point, his fingers were pretty far up under my skirt but again, I did not say a word, I just took his hand and placed it back on his lap. At thirty-five minutes in, he tried to kiss me. While we were sitting side by side at the bar. Without getting into the mechanics of how difficult it is to kiss while sitting side by side at a bar, I was able to push him away. I was not sure where I gave him the indication that I would be interested in kissing him. Maybe it was the three times I had silently taken his hand off my leg without making a big fuss. Or the fact that I had a sip of the second drink he had gotten for me without asking. Anyway, again, I was thinking, “I am a smart, strong female, and I do not need to get hysterical that a guy tried to kiss me.” So I calmly told Freddy that I dislike public displays of affection, and I would appreciate if he would keep to himself at the bar. I figured this was a good way to combat the wandering hands, as well, which were getting out of control. He did not try to kiss me again, although he whined about it, and his hand did make another appearance on my leg, higher yet, under my skirt this time. I told it was time for me to go.

He knew where I lived, so he told me he would walk me back to Penn Station where my subway was, and where his train was. At this point, I was pretty sure I wouldn’t be hanging out with him again, but since he was a friend of a friend, I said sure he could walk me to the train. The second we got outside, he “playfully” pushed me into the wall and said something to the effect of “we aren’t in public anymore, so now I can kiss you.” Then he also stuck his hand up my skirt. I squirmed away, walking faster toward the train. In case you were wondering, it was not playful. Or romantic. Also in case you were wondering, he was taller than me as my friend had promised. Significantly.

Again, in hindsight, maybe I should have taken this opportunity to invent a random errand I had forgotten about. But I was mostly concentrating on getting to the subway. So we continued walking. After what felt like an eternal two blocks, we reached the subway and he went down the stairs into the station with me. On any other occasion, I would have felt this to be a romantic gesture, but I was getting nervous that I would not be able to shake him. When I finally got to the turnstile, he asked me for a hug, and I acquiesced, as all females are taught to do. Little did I know that as I went to pull away, he would pull my skirt up. Completely. 100% showing everything underneath for full view of all MTA customers. I had been relatively reserved until that moment, but I couldn’t contain it anymore. I went off on him, screaming obscenities, pretty much every word that I know. I believe the last words I spoke to him were “are you f*cking kidding me right now!?” And as I turned around and swiped my MetroCard, I heard him say “text me when you get home, ok?”

I did not text him when I got home.

But he texted me! 4 times, in fact. By the time I got out of the subway (this was before we got texts underground), I had 4 messages from him about what a great time he had and how we should do it again sometime.

I felt like I had taken crazy pills. Who had a great time? Certainly not me. How did he have a great time? Did he enjoy hearing me scream the F bomb at him to the entire 34th street train station? I wasn’t too worried about him though, I figured I would just ghost, like guys do.

I called my friend who set us up, and since I am a female who only appeases others, I didn’t even tell him the story. It wasn’t worth it. I told him I didn’t think Freddy and I “clicked” and that we were “looking for different things.”

Me: looking for a caring guy. Freddy: looking for sexual assault. But I didn’t add that part.

I hung up the phone, went into my apartment, unfriended Freddy from Facebook, and answered his 4 text messages by saying I didn’t think it would work out with us as more than friends. Aren’t I so sweet?

I wish I could tell you that was the end of the story. It’s bad enough to end there, right? Unfortunately, it doesn’t.

A week later I received a phone call from a number I didn’t know. I was deep in the thick of applying for 2L summer internships, so I was answering every unknown number with vigor. I picked up, and was told that it was an officer with the Long Island Police Department. I was confused at first, because I didn’t remember applying there. But I kept listening. He asked my name, and he asked if I had recently been on a date with Freddy. Again, I was very confused. What did this have to do with my date? Did he report himself for pulling up my skirt in public? Did some good Samaritan see him put his hand up my skirt at the bar? The police officer went on to say that he was actually sitting with Freddy at the table, and they had questions for me. Again, I was baffled. Did he report me for saying no to getting it on in an alleyway?

Here’s something I didn’t mention before: Freddy is black. It was not relevant to the story before now. But as I continued to listen to the police officer, he told me that Freddy came into the station himself to report that he had received numerous death threats online. The officer said that Freddy received these threats from my friends via email, using the n-word, and telling Freddy that he should die because he went on a date with me and because I was white. Now, Freddy was not the first black man I went on a date with. Freddy would also not be the last black man I would go on a date with. And I certainly would not be friends with people who make death threats to anyone I go on dates with, black or not.

The officer asked me if I had told anyone that I was going on a date with Freddy. I kindly told the officer that yes, as is common practice for women when going to meet a stranger for the first time, I told my roommates and my best friend, none of whom are cyber bullies or racists.

I asked the officer if he had any information on who these threats came from, and if he could identify if they were, indeed my friends, because I was 100% sure that this is not the case and there must be some misunderstanding. He told me that the information was private, and he could not reveal it. I explained that I have a diverse and accepting group of friends, and they are not the type to cyber-bully, nor do I think they would go to those lengths to defend one date I went on. Then I asked him if my name would be on any paperwork because I was in law school and it was important for me to stay out of the court system.

Could I have said, “oh btw… Freddy also tried to finger me in a bar, and then forcibly kiss me in a bar, and then when I said no, he tried to do it in a dark alley, and then when I said no, he lifted my skirt up for all of Penn Station to see”? Yeah, I could have said that, but I didn’t.

I just told the officer that I did not know anyone who would make those kinds of threats. And the officer asked me to call him if I thought of someone who did it, or if “any new information came to light.”

For the next three weeks, I received periodic calls and voicemails from the Long Island Police. Never once did I tell them what really happened. And never once did I magically “remember” that I had a friend who was a racist cyber bully.

After three weeks of calls I never heard from the LIPD again. But I did hear from Freddy.

Two years after my worst first blind date ever, on December 6, 2013, Freddy’s photo popped up in my OKCupid inbox. I was expecting an apology. But no, it was as if we had never met. The message began “Hello, I’m Freddy. How are you doing? I see we have somethings (sic.) in common (tall, you stay in shape…”

I am not making this up. I went back years into my email to quote it exactly, minus the name. How does a person who reports a woman to the police, after assaulting her, look at her dating profile with multiple photos of her, and pretend it did not happen? HOW? I was so baffled, I just ignored it. I pretended it was another one of the many messages on OKCupid from weirdos, and I deleted it.

And that was the end of that. Except it wasn’t. Two years after the OKCupid message, in 2015, he friended me on Facebook. Again, I was baffled, but I just blocked him, since the unfriending back in 2011 clearly didn’t work. Thankfully, I have not heard from him since 2015. However, the friend who introduced us got married 18 months ago, and I wasn’t able to attend the wedding. I later learned that Freddy was one of the groomsmen, and I was relieved that I wasn’t able to go.

6 years later and I cannot put my finger on what part of this whole story hurt me the most. Was it the fact that I felt violated in public? The fact that I wish I had trusted my instincts and canceled the date before it happened? The fact that I wasn’t firmer with my words than just moving his hand? The fact that he pushed me against the wall and put his hand up my skirt and I still walked with him to the subway? The fact that when I called my friend, I didn’t tell him the truth? The fact that when I eventually did tell my friend the truth, he didn’t believe me? The fact that this man who clearly violated me, went on to report me to the police? The fact that he felt it was necessary to pull “the race card” for whatever reason he had? Or the fact that, years later, he pretended it never happened? I really don’t know.

But I’m telling my story anyway. It’s not going to fix anything. I’m not going to call the LIPD and say, “oh yeah FYI 6 years ago a guy made a false claim against me that I did not appreciate and also he tried to fondle me in an alley.”

Maybe I feel like being a bit of Silence Breaker myself. I may not get a Time Magazine cover, but I hope I empower someone out there to act on her instincts, or to say something makes her uncomfortable instead of just repeatedly moving a hand away. Maybe it will empower her to know that even if her hindsight is 20/20 and she looks back and rethinks her actions, realizing there were things she probably could have done differently, it doesn’t mean it was her fault that they happened.

So yeah, #MeToo. #MeToo so many times I can’t count. But this is one of my many stories that deserve a hashtag.

You should not have to be on the defense on a date or on the phone. You should not need to be on the defense in your place of work. But I’m not surprised that we still are. I’m not surprised that my single friends are still vigilant, telling their friends and roommates when and where they are going on their first dates, “just in case.” And I’m not surprised that Al Franken stepped down yesterday from the Senate. No, I’m not surprised. But I hope that soon, this will be the exception and not the rule. And I hope this story empowers at least one more woman to speak out and tell her story.

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Travel

Fall Festivals and Suburbia

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It’s December 6, 2017, and there are Christmas lights everywhere you look. I guess that means it’s finally Fall? It’s hard to tell, you know, since it was 60 degrees 2 days ago. All I know is, I have been ready for weeks, and I may have gotten excited and ordered 2 – ok, 4 – coats on Black Friday/Cyber Monday, so I am officially ready to be decked out!

Unfortunately, this year, as I am every year, I got carried away early and wanted to celebrate my favorite season of the year a little bit too early. There’s really nothing better than boots, tights, and a comfortable sweater-dress, AMIRITE?

Six weeks ago, in mid-October, I was already gearing up for the season and decided to take a quick jaunt to the suburbs to deck myself out for Fall Festivals. Unfortunately… it was still 70 degrees. I didn’t let it stop me! I put on my sundress and got down and dirty with some pumpkins and hay bales.

The real reason for this trip to the burbs was to see my parents, and so that my emoji bf, for the first time in our almost 2.5 years of dating, could see where my parents live. It was a quick trip for him, because we left after work Friday, and he had to be back to work on Sunday, but we tried to make the most of our 36 hours in the suburbs.

Friday night started with our arrival into 30th Street Station. If you’ve never been, you should really see it for yourself. Cathedral ceilings in the main atrium, cavernous hallways, it really looks like something straight out of the movies. In fact, it has been in a lot of movies: 1981 film Blow Out, the 1983 film Trading Places, the 1985 film Witness, the 2000 film Unbreakable, the 2010 video game Heavy Rain, Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. Season 2 Episode 7, and the 2015 film The Visit. (Thanks Wikipedia).

Anyway, after leaving the station, we went to my parents’ house for a home cooked meal. I cook at home pretty often, but nothing beats a meal cooked by mom! Plus, I can revert to my childhood ways and assume that if I bring my dishes to the sink, they will magically be put in the dishwasher! (Thanks Mommy!)

We went to bed relatively early, because we had a big day of Fall Festivals the next day. Unfortunately, by the time we got ready and hit the Wawa (DUH), the Fall festival was over!!

ALWAYS stop at Wawa. Even if it means missing the festival.

It was only from 11 am – 2 pm. What kind of rinky-dink festival is that!? I was horrified. I guess that’s what the suburbs are. Or what children’s festivals are. Luckily for us, even though the festival was over, most of the props were still out and available for photo opps, which is really all that matters, obvi. #DoItForTheInsta.

We took some photos, walked around a bit, then headed home for a midday siesta, and for the emoji boyfriend to do some work. The markets never close!! Ok, they do, but it seems like they don’t. Sigh.

That night, we hit up the local delicious Chinese food place, where we stuffed ourselves and in true suburban style, did not walk at all, except to the parking lot where we got in the car to drive home. What a perfect night.

The next day we went home separately because I require beauty sleep, which does not go well with emoji-bf’s plans to take 7 am Amtrak, thankyouverymuch. I took a 3 pm Septa and rode home with the plebs.

Moral of the story? Autumn is more fun in the suburbs, but in this day and age (cough cough GLOBAL WARMING cough cough), you should probably wait until December, and not October, to experience fallen leaves and boots.

Great props. Sephora adding some ambiance. Also notice my flip flops.

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Miscellaneous

Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show

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Stock up on your Halo Top ice cream pints and boxes of tissues, the self-loathing train is approaching with a vengeance. Tonight is the self-hate night of the year: the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show. Gone are the days of curvy Tyra Banks and NEVER are the days of human-looking women walking the catwalk, tonight is the night for unattainable body goals and 89 million dollar bras with so many diamonds they are sure to cut open your woman parts with one wrong sashay at the end of the runway.

Personally, I LOVE watching the show. In fact, I watch it ever year. I love to hate it. Maybe I just hate myself so deep down to my core that I force myself to watch how ugly I am compared to these fineee ladies, pushed in my face for an entire hour. Maybe I just like women walking in 6-inch high heels and 50-pound wings, waiting to watch them fall. (This never happens, it’s pre-recorded and you can only find the bloopers online). Maybe it’s because I can’t wait to see the musical guests, Leslie Odom Jr., Harry Styles, Miguel, Jane Zhang and Yundu Lu. Ok, it’s definitely not that because I only know one of those people. I really don’t know why I watch it, but it’s like a car accident and I am the worst rubbernecker of all time. I can’t help myself.

In these trying times, when the news every day is about yet another man abusing his power and treating yet another woman like a useless piece of chattel, there is no reason why I should enjoy yet another man (Ed Razek) in charge of throngs of underwear-clad ladies.

But again, I can’t talk too much sh*t because I f*cking love every second of it. Not only do I watch the show in its entirety (one of the only live TV events I watch all year long), but I also follow the news stories and events leading up to the show. As I mentioned before, the show is taped a week before it airs, so there is plenty of news and hype for weeks before the TV affair.

There were a few major pre-show news stories this year. The first was that since it was held in Shanghai for the first time, there were multiple people whose visas were denied, Katy Perry and Gigi Hadid being two of them. Katy Perry was banned for wearing a dress with sunflowers, and Gigi Hadid for apparently mocking Asian facial traits online. They are serious online stalkers over there in the visa office. I’m actually pretty impressed with their research techniques.

The second “major” news story was when Chrissy Tiegen tricked the internet into thinking she was going to walk in the show. The whole thing unfolded on her Instagram story, beginning with saying how she was nervous about the show, and then how she was getting in one last quick gym session. Then began her hilarious pleas that she was in Shanghai ready for her fitting but no one was answering her calls or emails. But then the best thing yet happened, she asked the twitterverse to photoshop her into a pic of all of the Angels. And the internet delivered in the best way possible. Times like those make me love the world wide web.

Anyway, the third and biggest story was that, yet again, the VS show will not have a single plus-size model. And by plus-size, I mean anyone over a size 6, maybe over a size 4. You know this is a problem because even Fox News is talking about it. This year, Ashley Graham, super famous plus-size model with 5.7 million Instagram followers, photoshopped a picture of herself with wings on, captioning it “Got my wings!” and the internet freaked out, thinking that perhaps VS had changed its ways. But no, no such luck. As Fashionista writes, it “seems so silly when you consider that the plus-size market here at home is growing at twice the rate of its straight size counterpart.” In fact, their main competitor, Aerie, is in the middle of a huge campaign to post photoshop-free ads by using the hashtag #AerieREAL. Victoria’s Secret’s only hashtag that comes even close to that is #TrainLikeAnAngel, which I think was meant to bring attention to physical fitness and healthy lifestyles. In my humble opinion, it just brought attention to the fact that VS Angels have 10 hours a day to work out, because it’s literally their jobs, as opposed to us “real people” who sit at desks watching their workouts on Instagram. Not exactly the same thing.

Again quoting Fashionista, and maybe I’m biased because the writer of the piece (Hey Tyler!) lived in my college dorm, “[Victoria Secret’s] entire marketing scheme is built upon tapping beautiful young women with millions of even younger, highly-impressionable followers. No one is asking Victoria’s Secret to give up its bevy of statuesque Angels — but perhaps it is time they consider widening their view of who is worthy to don their lingerie.”

And I agree. I think it’s time. I’d sure watch it! Then again, I watch it anyway.

In summary: Guys, I’m not sitting here telling you I’m not going to watch tonight. I’m going to watch the hell out of it. And I’m going to cry salty tears until my self-loathing turns my caramel chocolate Halo Top Ice Cream into salted caramel chocolate Halo Top Ice Cream. I’m going to live tweet the whole thing (Follow me on Twitter!). I’m going to talk about it all day tomorrow. And I’m going to swear that I will take up a new gym routine and #TrainLikeAnAngel for real. And then the next day I’ll give up because that’s what always happens, and I’ll make a new resolution on January 1 to train more, and hate myself less. And the vicious cycle continues.

But then I will remind myself that it is not my job to look like an Angel, it is my job to live the YOLO lifestyle like a regular 30-year-old millennial in New York, and to eat ramen every day because I don’t have a personal chef and that’s all my student loans payments will allow. And I’ll have to settle for that. See tonight on twitter, hopefully Adriana winks at me.

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Big City Living

Thanksgiving Day 2017

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Happy Black Friday! Take a break from shopping to read an update from your friendly, neighborhood Macy’s Parade expert.

TL;DR: NEVER going back to Balloon Inflation again; Parade was FANTASTIC as always, even though I feel old; I ate so much food; traveling back to NYC on Thanksgiving night when I woke up at 5 am for the parade is something I will never do again.

Wednesday night, I joined my friend and sister to attend the great balloon inflation. Turned out to be not-so-great. Ok, it was f*cking horrifically terrible. Good parts, standing in crowds of 10,000 people surrounded by bomb-sniffing dogs and full-riot-gear snipers. Ok jk, those were not good parts. There were no good parts. It was disorganized, and when we finally got through the security checkpoint and bag check (after 30 minutes of waiting), we found out that the line snaked from 74th street to 76th street, then back to 74th, then back to 76th. 6 total blocks, and even then, you were only at 76th street and the actual balloons didn’t start for another block after that. Once we got through one part of the snaking line, and after I was hit in the legs by approximately 16 strollers and kicked by approximately 4 children, we knew we had to escape. We asked a police officer how to GTFO. She told us we had to snake back down to 75th then ask an officer to open the gates for us. We jumped over a barricade and through the other snaking line, and walked as fast as we could away from that sh*tshow.

After that horrific experience, we walked back uptown along Columbus Avenue, in the street on the east side, and GUESS WHAT? We could see all the freaking balloons anyway. They are hundreds of feet long, after all. We even did a good deed, delivering a girl’s keys across Columbus Avenue to her friend on the west side of the street, because the girl was actually stuck inside the balloon inflation line, just as we had been, minutes prior!

The night got a lot better, though. We ate homemade pizza at my sister’s house, thanks to my brother-in-law, and then we went to part ways. As I left my sister’s house, I realized the police were blocking Amsterdam Avenue. Then I realized why: ALL OF THE FLOATS FOR THE PARADE WERE ARRIVING!! It was amazing. I called my sister immediately and told her to come outside. The floats all need to be able to fold up, or disassemble into 12.5 by 13-foot boxes to fit through the Lincoln Tunnel. We got to see the floats all tied down and folded up. Most terrifyingly, we saw the Jolly Green Giant in all of his creepy reverie, head unattached, large hands unattached and filled with even larger ears of corn. This was, by far, the coolest part of the night. And there was no line at all!

I went home and slept for very few hours, then woke up at 5:45 am feeling like it was Christmas morning. I’m Jewish so, this is sort of as good as it gets: PARADE DAY! I followed most of my tips for parade-viewing, bundling up in layers, and stopping at the bodega for an egg sandwich and snacks, and definitely not coffee. I picked up my sister along the way, and we settled in to watch just south of 75th street on Central Park West at 6:40 am.

It’s not easy to pick, but here are some highlights of parade-watching:

  • We were standing right at the beginning of the parade, so we were in front of the opening marching band. We got to dance along with them and hear their awesome songs.
  • We were close enough so that the clowns threw confetti on us.
  • Unfortunately, I barely knew any of the performers. I think that’s how I know I’m old.
  • Performers I knew and got to see: Patti Labell, Common, Flo-Rida, Jimmy Fallon, Bebe Rexha, and ALSO, 98° actually came back from retirement! Love me some Nick Lachey. 
  • I’m tall so I could see all of the floats and balloons before everyone else. (Long legs, big city. Duh.)
  • Spirit of America dance team came by. And when they stopped their cheering, (“MACYS. THANKSGIVING DAY. PARADE!”), my sister and I started a back and forth “We’ve got spirit, yes we do, we’ve got spirit, how ‘bout YOU!?” And we did that a few times with about 40 cheerleaders joining in.
  • SANTA!!! How does one get that job? Does he just have to have his own padding and not be drunk? (Miracle on 34th Street reference.)
  • After the parade was over, we got to see City workers immediately swiveling the traffic lights back into place. Always a sight to see.
  • While the streets were still closed, my sister took an amazing photo of me. New profile pic!
Processed with VSCO with preset

Oh, and selfies with balloons. Which needs its own gallery of photos. 

Not to mention that my sister and I LOVE Macy’s and have a special appreciation for most people’s least favorite balloons: The Macy’s Stars! We took selfies (ussies?) with all of them!

After the parade, I went home, still on a high, and watched the parade’s broadcast on NBC. I caught the last 45 minutes and got to see Santa AGAIN! Then I took a shower, FINALLY had coffee, and headed to Penn Station, aka Dante’s 10th circle of hell on Thanksgiving Day, and headed to South Orange, New Jersey.

I had Thanksgiving dinner at my sister’s husband’s brother’s house. There were twenty people there! The food was DELISH and the bar was #STOCKED. I think I had 3 gin and tonics before dinner, then a few glasses of wine at dinner. The only thing I will complain about… No mac and cheese! Unfortunately, since they keep kosher, there was delicious turkey, but it meant we couldn’t have cheese. That’s ok, I know there will definitely be some at Christmas in Texas.

Lastly, remind me to never take the NJ Transit back into New York on the night of Thanksgiving. It was standing-room-only, filled with New Yorkers escaping the suburbs, and there were drunk people everywhere. Also, at that point I had been awake and in constant motion for 16 hours. It was not pleasant.

Maybe next year the plan will be Parade, then movie marathon in bed. But ALWAYS Parade. Until next year!

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Big City Living, Miscellaneous

Macy’s Parade Ultimate Viewing Guide

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I am quite possibly the most experienced Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade viewer that you will ever meet. I already told you about my long history with The Parade. As my Thanksgiving gift to you, I am sharing with you my ultimate guide of tips and tricks for watching the parade. I will do a separate guide for those in New York watching LIVE vs. people watching remotely. Although, let’s be honest, y’all should just come to NYC. It’s worth it.

LIVE VIEWING DO’s and DON’T’S:

  • DO attend the GREAT BALLOON BLOWUP the night before! It’s going on right now! 1-8 pm around the Natural History Museum.
  • DO dress in layers! This is self-explanatory. It’s cold AF and you’ll be standing still for a LONG time.
  • DO wear comfortable shoes. It’s a lot of hours. All standing.
  • DO go out drinking the night before. Then you’ll be dehydrated the next morning. Trust me, this will come in handy.
  • DO set 4 alarm clocks. Especially if you’re drinking the night before.
  • DO bring snacks. And breakfast. You’ll be hungry.
  • DO charge your phone and bring an extra charger. You’ll need it. Here’s why:
  • DO post incessantly on social media. Instagram and Snapchat needs to be jealous! Make sure the world knows that you live in the greatest city in the world and you only walked 10 blocks from your apartment to view the greatest parade on Earth.
  • DO tweet constantly @macys #MacysParade.
  • DO call all members of your family from the parade route so they are jealous. One year, my brother was in Israel and he called us from ISRAEL so he could feel like he was part of the action.
  • DO try and find any of your friends or relatives who are walking in the parade.
  • DO scream their names like a crazy person until they see you and wave.
  • DO still make sure you record the broadcast at home!! If you view the parade in person, you miss all the talent acts that take place in Herald Square. You will need to watch it in its entirety later! Also, you’ll want to see the commercials. More on that later.
  • DON’T be afraid to push people out of the way.
  • DON’T be intimidated by children. Feel free to tell those 3-year-old bastard children that now is not the time to be on your dad’s shoulders. There are 30-year-olds who wanna see Santa too!
  • DON’T drink coffee in the morning. Porta Potties. Need I say more?

AT-HOME VIEWING DO’s and DON’T’S:

  • DO wake up with enough time to brush your teeth. I’d normally allow 10 minutes before 9 am.
  • DO watch the entire thing. Show performances from 9-10 am. Rockettes somewhere in the middle. Santa at the end!
  • DO have a printout of the lineup with you so you can check off acts as they perform, and so you know what’s coming up.
  • DO watch Miracle on 34th Street directly after the end of the parade! We did this every year when we lived in Florida. It’s basically just an extension of the parade.
  • DO watch the 1947 version or the colorized version of it. This may belong in the DON’Ts section below, but don’t watch the 1994 version with Mara Wilson. Unless you’re watching both. Then it’s ok.
  • DO watch out for the special balloon this year commemorating the 70th anniversary of the movie!!
  • DO download the Macy’s app! They have amazing features you can use even from home! Like transforming yourself into a Macy’s Elf.
  • DON’T miss the beginning! You need to hear Amy Kule (the Executive Producer of the Parade) say “Let’s Have a Parade!”
  • DON’T fast-forward through the commercials! Many advertisers debut their best commercials of the holiday season during the Parade. There are always articles about how it’s a brand’s dream because everyone loves Thanksgiving. No conflicts of interest.
  • DON’T feel bad about tweeting constantly @macys #MacysParade even if you’re watching from home. Yes, I said this before. And I’ll say it again.
  • DON’T MISS SANTA! I already sorta said this above but, DUH.

And the most important:

DON’T MISS IT!!! According to the official website FAQ, “This once-a-year event is best watched live! Unfortunately, no reproductions of the broadcast are available for sale or distribution.”

Also, FYI, as much as I’d want to get proposed to during The Parade, it’s impossible. This is also covered in the FAQ. SEE YOU GUYS ON CENTRAL PARK WEST!!

SANTA! I KNOW HIM!!!!

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Big City Living

Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade

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Tomorrow is one of the biggest days of the year for my family. Not because we gather together, not because of the food, def not because we are thankful. Because of one thing and one thing only: THE MACY’S THANKSGIVING DAY PARADE.

Note to Readers: This post is solely about the importance of the parade and my history with it. This is NOT about this year’s parade. Do not fret, I will post about the 2017 parade after it happens.

My family has a LONGGG history with the Macy’s Parade. That’s right, it’s the Macy’s Parade, not the Thanksgiving Day Parade, and NEVER the Macy’s DAY Parade, as some incredibly ignorant people call it. My dad used to work for Macy’s. In fact, he started at Bloomingdales as a seasonal employee, and stayed on with Macy’s for 17 years. He worked in the offices in Herald Square above the massive flagship store. That is also the store where my mom showed my dad which ring she wanted as her engagement ring, and also the store where he bought the ring, when he came down on his lunch break. Like a said, we have a longggg history.

When I was growing up, my dad got tickets to watch in the grandstand through work, so we would make the annual VERY early pilgrimage to NYC from New Jersey to watch in the stands. There is a classic photo of my mom and sister and I bundled up watching the parade. My mom is in the photo holding a bundle of blankets aka my baby brother at the time, who was 9 months old. I told you we take this parade sh*t seriously. Ain’t no baby holding us back! That puts me at 2 years old, a pacifier in my mouth, and another pacifier in my hand, JIC. Obvi. And my sister at 8 years old, having the MOST fun.

When I was 10 years old, my family moved to Florida and we had to continue our annual tradition from 1,200 miles away. We would wake up early (8:45 am was early when I was a teenager), and watch it on the TV. It was a very different experience sitting in the living room of our central AC house, watching people standing and shivering for hours on the street. TBH, I really missed it! But we created new traditions of watching on TV, having my mom cook eggs and bagels (THANKS MOMMY) and then having her join us to watch the real parade at 10 am, after all of the show performances in Herald Square that happen from 9-10.

Then, after college, my parents moved to Philadelphia, which is so close, but so far from NYC. The one year when I was still in Florida, I flew up to for Thanksgiving. Did I fly to Philly where my parents live? NO. OF COURSE NOT. I flew to New York for The Parade!! My brother took a redeye train from Philadelphia to New York to meet my sister and me for some Macy’s fun. After 12 years of Florida Thanksgivings, I was not used the cold and I was freezing my bum off. But I loved every minute.

Fast-forward a year. When I was choosing a law school, my main concern was proximity to The Parade (caps intentional). I chose Brooklyn Law School because it was just a subway ride away. Ok, maybe that’s not entirely true. But I WAS very excited to come back to Parade proximity!

Since moving back to the big apple, I have had many Parade-viewing experiences, from good, old-fashioned street viewing (the most legit), to a swanky, invite-only NBC watch party with unlimited mimosas and food, and free pillows (the most comfortable, warm and bathroom-friendly option), to actually having tickets to the Uptown 76th Street Grandstands (the most celeb-spotting spot). All of them were fantastic experiences for different reasons.

Last year was the year I was in the Grandstands, and I don’t know if I will ever be able to beat that view. Unfortunately, it meant waking up before the crack of dawn to arrive by 6:30 am, and it meant no bathrooms once admitted. However, we had an amazing view and we had SEATS! Also, we made friends with the people around us and played many rounds of taboo waiting for it to start. Better yet, I had MULTIPLE sightings of my oldest true love, Al Roker. <3 <3 <3

How did I get tickets to the Grandstand?? Welllll, better even than the grandstand, my sister was IN THE PARADE!! She was a handler for the Diary of a Wimpy Kid balloon! As they say in Today, “Though it’s a volunteer position, being a balloon handler is not an easy gig to get. Many volunteers land their slots through recommendations from Macy’s employees.” In fact, you must be a Macy’s or Bloomies employee or friend of an employee to get a spot! Last year, my sister asked the right people, and they put her in touch with someone who made her lifelong dream a reality. My sister loves me, so she asked if I, too, could be a balloon handler. Unfortunately, there were no spots left. But because I am her sister, I got the consolation prize, which was not a consolation prize at all: tickets to the grandstand.

One may say I even got the longer end of the stick because I got to sit down the whole time. Being a handler is not easy! But still, over 3,000 people do it. In fact, there are physical requirements and even training sessions. After all, it’s a 2.5 mile walk in the cold, while holding 100-foot balloons. And everyone who does it is a volunteer! That’s how I know I am not the only one obsessed with the parade. There are thousands of balloon handlers out there who live for this.

I’m pretty psyched. I will be posting my ultimate guide: Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade Watching Tips later today. And if you’re already too busy in transit on the biggest travel day of the year to read my blog, then HAPPY THANKSGIVING. I’ll say hi to Matt Lauer, Savannah Guthrie, and Al Roker for you!! #IBelieve

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Fitness

How much is that Peloton in the Window?

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As you may remember, the only Spin class I will pay for is at Peloton (usually). I’ve written at length about the experience of riding live in the studio, but I had never had the experience of being an “at-home rider.” That all changed last Friday. I wasn’t at home, per se, but I was in the window, for many passersby to see and wave at me, and I did get to watch Emma Lovewell LIVE from 2,783 miles miles away. That’s an exact number.

Last week, I traveled to Los Angeles for work (more on the trip later), and on my first day there, I stumbled upon a Peloton Showroom. If you did not know, Peloton has only one studio, in Manhattan, but they sell their bike worldwide, and they livestream the classes from New York all over the world. They currently have more than 25 showrooms in the USA, where they sell the bikes and apparel. When I accidentally came upon the showroom in Santa Monica, I absolutely had to go in, but not before taking a photo to post on my Instagram story.

When I walked in, I met Deano, the nicest salesperson I’ve ever met. He laughed about me taking a photo for my insta-story, and we chatted for more than 30 minutes. I knew it wasn’t just a sales pitch, because we discussed right away that I wasn’t buying a bike. I told him I lived in a New York apartment, and therefore it was the size of a closet, and therefore a Peloton bike would have to take the place of like, a couch or a table or both. He motioned to the corner of that store and was like “haha yea, your apartment is probably like, this big.” HAHAHA. LOL. SO FUNNY. But for real.

Anyway, Deano and I talked about how the company was a unicorn, and how it somehow grew rapidly by finding a niche hole in the market that needed to be filled. I told him that I only had the experience of riding in the studio, and how I had never ridden the bike with the big screen. (The bikes in the studio have littler Ipad mini-sized screens, since they don’t have to show the video of the instructor.) He told me I should come in to take a class live in the window. And I knew I had to, simply because of the blog. And also because of snapchat. And Instagram. Oh, and also because it was my favorite price: FREE!

Two days later, I popped into the showroom, and Justine and Christopher (equally as nice as Deano) were there to fulfill my window-riding dreams. They gave me spin shoes in my size, a water bottle and a towel, and Christopher promised to take many Instagram-worthy pics. I was ready to roll. I logged into my account (LongLegsBigCity, DUH), and I was off! I took Emma Lovewell’s live DJ ride, where the DJ spins the tunes and we follow Emma’s cues. It was so fun, especially because people were walking by the showroom windows the whole time, pointing and gawking, and I just waved to them like a princess. A very, very sweaty princess.

Pros:

  • I got an amazing workout.
  • I got to feel famous riding in the window.
  • I got bombass pics for Instagram.
  • I had an awesome experience I could blog about.
  • I got a free Peloton workout!

Cons:

  • My knee has been bothering me a lot lately, so I couldn’t pull the big numbers on the leaderboard that I am accustomed.
  • Emma is a relatively new instructor and I hadn’t taken her before, she isn’t my favorite. How does she ride with her hair down and not get sweaty?? It’s very irksome.
  • I don’t love riding with headphones on, it’s one of the best parts of group fitness, feeling unencumbered and still having loudddd music.
  • I realized, after sweating buckets, that I had never once ridden a spin bike in full light before. Not only were the lights on, but the doors of the store were open, I was in the window, it was afternoon, AND the bike had spotlights on it because I was in the window! It was SO HOT. I was chugging water the rest of the day to rehydrate.

The best three parts about the at-home rider experience vs. the studio:

  1. They track your best output in real time, so you can constantly chase your own best numbers on the leaderboard. For example, at 10 minutes in, it showed my best output at 140, and I was hovering at 80. I told you it was a rough ride. Anyway, it’s very motivating to chase your PR throughout the class.
  2. When you ride at home, you are on the leaderboard with hundreds to thousands of riders at a time. It’s awesome! In the studio, you are only on the board with the 60 people in the studio. Peloton literally is a noun that means “the main field of cyclists in a race.” And the point, according to their website, is for “riders in a peloton to work together, conserve energy and perform better because of one another.” This is easier achieved when you know you’re in it with 1000 other people!
  3. Beyond the ride! They had a 5 minute post-class stretch, and they have other classes like arms and abs classes that you can’t see in the studio, but you can see at home. I tried to do the stretch, but it was a little cramped in the window space. Maybe next time.

Yesterday I got back to New York, and of course I had to take a Peloton class in the studio with Cody. I got the big numbers I didn’t manage to get on Friday, and I feel like some of that is because I feed off the energy of those around me. Also because Cody is the BOMB. Long story short: It’s an awesome experience if you don’t live in NYC, and it’s incredibly unique, but if you can get yourself to the studio, DO IT!

Check out the photos below, Christopher did a great job!

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