As I write this, I have earbuds in my ears and I have air traffic control headphones on over my earbuds. Am I at an airport directing planes to their gates? FALSE. I am sitting at my desk in my office. While 20 construction workers are literally drilling into the wall outside my window. I can see them. In fact, last week, one of them was texting and I could actually read the words in his text. That’s how close they are. One guy left his iced coffee right outside my coworker’s window yesterday and she almost grabbed it for herself.
Typical morning here at the office.
Taken right after he waved to me. We are friends.
No caption needed.
Just a couple work permits.
Was this construction completely unplanned? No. But does that make it any better? ALSO NO. I did not know when I started working at this non-profit in a seminary that I would be dealing with asbestos warnings posted in the lobby. Nor did I know that I would be learning the very important skill of typing on a keyboard that literally vibrates from a drill as I type. So exciting. I’ve never been within centimeters of a blowtorch before. How enthralling. This is all very thick sarcasm. In case you didn’t catch that.
The access to the elevator on our floor has been cut off for 6 weeks and counting. The original warning email they sent said that “work will proceed in the hallway on Wednesday June 7th.” It went on to say that the elevators would not stop on our floor “while this work is in progress.” At first skim, it looks like it will only be for one day. June 7th. Well here I am on July 20th, and there is no sign of it being finished anytime soon. Now, I know I am a fitness instructor and that these stairs should not be a problem. I take the elevator to another floor, then go up a flight. But after teaching 4 spin classes in 2 days, that single flight of stairs may as well be the Mayan ruins. And the last thing I want to do is three flights of stairs every time I have to use the restroom. I almost cut down on my coffee consumption for this reason. ALMOST.
Speaking of teaching fitness classes, I change clothes at work 3-4 time/week to teach at the gym. Sometimes when I am running late, I use our empty conference room as a changing room. I always make sure the door is locked. But of course I sometimes forget that there are now men scaling the exterior walls of the building. Two weeks ago, one of those men got more than he bargained for while walking outside the conference room on newly-erected scaffolding. No pun intended. Good thing they wear harnesses.
Asbestos Abatement. NBD.
Another one of my good friends.
Anyone need some duct tape?
Another day, another air traffic control look.
The blocked off hallway to the elevator.
The stairs are not even the tip of the iceberg. There is smoke. A lot of it. Here is an actual excerpt of an email I sent the head of Facilities Management:
There is quite a bit of smoke throughout the hallways. It is visible to the eye, it looks like it’s foggy. Also, the fact that the people doing the work are wearing welding masks, and keep walking through the halls, and yet nothing has been done to protect the people working here for 9 hours each day is alarming.
They have repeatedly told us that it is “not dangerous,” but I can’t help but wonder why the workers are wearing masks. And a girl who works on my floor and is pregnant has started to take an alternative stairwell to avoid the smoke. For now, there’s not much I can do, and from what they tell us, it’s only going to get worse. They have barely even broken ground on the new building yet! This is just “prep work.” Kill me. Since I am here for the long haul, I guess I need to get used to wearing air traffic control headgear to the office, and try to be optimistic.
Here are a few positives I can glean from this experience:
I know how to work a blowtorch, simply from my extensive observation.
My calves are lookin’ GREAT from all the stairs.
There’s never a dull moment. The people walking by my office are always carrying fun things: steel beams, piping, insulation, etc. Sometimes all three!
I like to think I make some of these guys’ days when they accidentally see me in various stages of undress.
If I die from asbestos, I can tell my mom to stop worrying about liver cirrhosis from my drinking.
I never have to answer the phone; I can’t hear it ring!
There are a lot of cute guys walking around the building. The rabbis weren’t cutting it.
It makes me more thankful that I have air conditioning, looking at the guys outside sweating (even though we have been instructed not to use the AC on certain days when welding fumes from the scaffolding will be “too intense”).
If you need me, comment below, and don’t call as I will not be able to hear the phone! I’m well on my way to Career #5: Air traffic controller.
What’s your idea of a good workout? A combination of cardio and strength moves utilizing state-of-the-art treadmills and rowers, all while tracking your exertion and heart rate on TV screens? Burning more calories even after you leave the gym? If so, then Orangetheory Fitness is for you.
Orangetheory Fitness is an interval workout backed by science, designed to keep your heart rate in a target zone that spikes metabolism and increases your EPOC or afterburn calories. In theory, the more you can keep your heart in that zone, the more splat points you get (more on that later), and the more calories you will burn after the workout is over. It’s a little complicated, but that Wikipedia link on EPOC explains it pretty well. Nothing like citing to a good Wikipedia article. Erin Andrews (another wiki link) is one of their spokespeople, so obviously it works; look at her! Also, she’s a Gator so I’m biased. Throughout the workout, you wear a heart rate monitor, or you can choose not to, and you can track calories burned, percentage of max heart rate, and OTF “splat points”, based on the amount of time you spend in the orange HR zone. My favorite part of this workout is that the point is not to burn out and go “all out” in the red zone the whole time. You leave feeling like you got an awesome workout, but you don’t leave feeling like you are going to die, or barf in the lobby on the way out. This has happened to me before (cough cough TONEHOUSE).
Anyway, as I mentioned last week, I recently went to OTF with my brother when I went to Washington DC, and we had a blast. One of my best friends from college is a head trainer for OTF and now trains and manages the trainers of the region, so I knew I was in good hands taking her class. This was not my first rodeo, however. I had been to Orangetheory a few times before in three different states: New York, Virginia, and Florida. The cool thing about OTF is that every day, the workout is the same in every studio around the country, so it doesn’t matter if you are traveling often. But even better, the workout is different each day! I have been to a class where they had an endurance day, a class that was a sprint-based power class, and a combo day. I have never been to this thing they call “Tornado Tuesday,” nor do I ever plan to go, because I do not hate myself. HA. Reddit has a glossary of OTF terms if you can’t keep up. Anyway, point of this story is, even though I’ve gone 5 times, I have never been bored.
My first-ever time at Orangetheory, at the Chelsea studio in NYC
My second time at OTF in Arlington, VA
OTF in Boca Raton with my elementary school friend.
When I went with my brother, it added a competition aspect that I did not even know I had in me. My brother is incredibly competitive. I’m talking, “throw a tantrum and leave the table during a game of monopoly” competitive. Me? Not so much. In my 4 previous times at OTF, I had only worn the heart rate monitor once. It is interesting to track and see my statistics after, but it’s not too important for me to watch it during the class. For my brother, though, it was not an option. So I strapped my heart rate monitor on under the strap of my sports bra, and readied myself for a massive competition. My brother has literally run the length of Israel before, whereas I have run one half marathon and sprained my ankle twice in the past 3 months. I was prepared to lose. But I didn’t let him know that!
The workout of the day was pretty complicated to follow, but we warmed up on the rowers, then started with floor exercises, which were demoed on the screens. I mostly followed the screens, but called Julie over to explain a few times. She didn’t treat me like a complete idiot, so that was a plus. I think some other people were lost, too. There were 3 rounds of 3 exercises, and you could pick the order. We used dumbbells, a step, and the TRX to do a combination of moves working all major muscle groups. Then after 25 minutes, we switched to cardio intervals on the treadmill then rower. After the floor section, my brother and I each only had 3 splat points, and the goal is 12-20. As I said above, you get a splat point for each minute you spend training in the orange zone. Clearly we had our work cut out for us on the treadmills.
My brother stared me down from his adjacent treadmill with a look in his eyes that could only be described as, “you’re going down, bitch.” Or maybe it was, “you’re going down, sis,” but either way, he made it clear he was playing to win. And sure enough, I had my eyes on the screen tracking his splat points more than I had my eyes on the treadmill. Probs dangerous, in hindsight. Anyway, my brother skipped his second interval on the rower to add more points and stay on the treadmill, aka HE CHEATED. He swears he just read the workout wrong, which is possible, because, like I said it was pretty complicated, but I choose to say he cheated. Anyway, joke was on him because while he was slaving away on the treadmill at 12.0 MPH, I was at a casual 5.8, and since I’m such a worse runner, my heart rate was the same as his, and soon enough, we were neck and neck at 14 points even. With 2 minutes left of class, I was ahead 17-16, but he caught up with seconds to spare, and we tied at 17 splat points.
Overall, OTF is super fun. I love the idea of having a workout that changes every day because I have a bit of workout A.D.D. and I get bored quickly. Watching your points go up on the screen adds to the feeling of accomplishment, and even though I wish I had beat my brother, I still feel like I had a great workout and left completely sweaty. I worked off at least one of my post-workout-sake-bombs. It was extra fun to have Julie as our instructor because she grew up with my brother too, and felt comfortable egging him on over the microphone. Plus, she always has a fab playlist. I highly recommend checking it out. Most first-timers are free if you’re local. In Manhattan it’s $20 for your first class because everything in this godforsaken city is expensive, but what else is new? It’s $319 unlimited for a month in NYC, which is out of my budget, but if you go 4 times a week, it works out to less than $20/class, which is cheaper than any other studio in NYC. Try it out and see if you can beat my brother’s and my splat points!
This was clearly posed. I was not smiling IRL when I was on the rower.
COACH JULIE!
My bro needs to work on his chest press form.
WE SURVIVED! (Barely).
Arms shaking post-class, she thought we would drop her.
This past weekend I did nothing. Of course, that is not true. But New Yorkers don’t always say what they mean. When New Yorkers say they did nothing, what it really means is that they had a couple hours specifically carved out where they were not running from one event to the next. And on those rare unicorn occasions, it is glorious.
This past weekend, here’s what I really did:
Friday: Worked a full day, grocery shopped and cooked dinner, then watched Moana with my boyfriend. He LOVED it. Maybe because he’s an emoji and it’s an animated movie, and birds of a feather flock together.
Saturday: Went to breakfast in Greenwich Village with my boyfriend and 3 friends, took a few photographs of my food, then meandered around and said bye to my BFF who was traveling back to Australia. Then did 5 loads of laundry.
Sunday: Taught 2 hours of fitness classes in Brooklyn while my brother was a participant. Took the local train there and back because, weekends in NYC, transit is literally the worst (this is an activity in and of itself). Went to lunch at an Indian buffet. Third best on the Upper West Side according to foursquare! It tasted like second best. Went shopping at CVS, where I saved $25 in coupons. Beware Extreme Couponing, I’m coming for you.
As you can see, this was not, indeed, nothing, but compared to a usual NYC weekend, it is incredibly tame. Almost every New Yorker can tell you when the next time they have nothing planned is, and they generally will be very happy about it, looking forward to it, sometimes counting down they days until it happens. One of my favorite comedians, John Mulaney, has a bit specifically about this. He says, if you ever ask an adult what they did over the weekend and they did nothing, their faces LIGHT UP. It’s so true! My coworkers asked me this morning how was weekend was, and I regaled them with tales of my binge-watching Jane the Virgin, and sang them a few lines from my new favorite soundtrack, Moana. Ok, maybe I didn’t do that last part, but I did hum some of it on the subway! Those songs are seriously catchy. Thanks Lin Manuel Miranda.
Doing nothing is a luxury that I cannot often take advantage of. There are things to do, people to see, food to eat, and the feeling of FOMO is so real. When I first moved in with my boyfriend, I thought I would be running out of the house at every possible moment to get away from him (no offense babe). But in reality, I have found that I am more and more likely to turn down invitations. Why? Well first of all, I’m poor. Thanks student loans. But even more, I already have someone to keep me company at home! And after nearly 7 years of go-go-go in New York, I am ready to slowww down. Don’t get me wrong, I am still going to go out to drunch every once in a while, but now that I am 30, I need a full day to recover. Also, sometimes it is the most luxurious feeling to find out that Pocahontas is streaming on Hulu and you can watch it over and over again. With the closed captioning on, it’s basically Disney Karaoke. You’re welcome for that Saturday serenade, neighbors.
I hope all of you guys had a fantastic weekend filled with lots of fun activities. Or not. Because sometimes that’s better.
Strap in, this post is a doozy. Last weekend I traveled to Virginia for my cousin’s wedding, and I had a jam-packed 3 days in the Greater Washington D.C. area. I promise to travel to further and more interesting places soon, but for now, this will have to do for the blog.
I arrived on Thursday night, and luckily, my brother, a new DC resident, picked me up from the train station. Unluckily, he was pulled over by the cops on the way, who said that it was illegal to drive through a yellow light. What?! Isn’t that what yellows are for? Anyway, a bit delayed, we changed and went to dinner with his Home Plate Family. What is Home Plate? It’s basically the coolest invention ever, founded and run by the WashU Chancellor’s wife, Risa Zwerling Wrighton. If out of town students at WashU miss home-cooked meals and dinnertime, they can sign up for this program and get matched with a family. My brother’s “family” was even featured on the WashU website 5 years ago! Since my brother was a WashU student for 7 years (8 if you include the gap year), he basically grew up with his “family.” Therefore, we all grew up with them! I have been hearing about my brother’s second mom for almost a decade. He has been attending all of the kids’ recitals, ceremonies, and graduations for years and his “mom” is my favorite part of our family group texts! Anyway, we had a delicious dinner at Lavagna, where I heard about their time at the Newseum, which I absolutely must go to the next time I’m in DC.
After dinner, I met up with a friend from middle/high school, who I hadn’t seen in 3 years. We had a drink and talked for a while, until we realized it was getting late and now we are real adults with jobs and it was a work night. LAME.
Bus to D.C. with Purple Bear, as usual.
Home Plate Family Reunion!
Old friends; we age like fine wine, right?
The next morning, my brother and his gf and I woke up and went to my brother’s favorite bagel place, Bullfrog Bagels. It was ok, but nothing compared to NYC bagels (don’t tell him I said that). I’m spoiled. After barely digesting, we drove out to Arlington to work out at Orangetheory Fitness with my best friend from college. She is the head trainer for the region, and she definitely gave us a workout! My brother and I wore heartrate monitors so we could compete with each other on the screens. More about the actual workout later, I’ll do a full review. Suffice it to say, we left completely drenched in sweat, and she played one of my fav weekend ramp-up songs, Hello Friday by Jason Derulo and Flo Rida. I promptly added it to all of my playlists (FOLLOW ME ON SPOTIFY!). We took about 100 pictures , some below, some saved for my OTF blog review, then we went home to shower. The afternoon was STEAMY hot. We ate Ethiopian food, then had a few sake bombs to stave off heat exhaustion, as one does. The boomerangs were pretty epic.
Coach of the Year!
Arms shaking at this point fo real.
This was before the soreness set in.
We finished packing and headed to the suburb of Reston, VA, where the rest of the wedding weekend popped off. Something to know about my family: we don’t see each other often, but when we do, we have a BLAST! We started Beth and Kenny’s wedding weekend with hors d’ouvres and drinks at American Tap Room, which conveniently was a 3 minute walk from the hotel #DrinksOnDrinksOnDrinks. My uncle put together a slideshow and I had three cameos in it (#winning). I only cried three times. Ok, maybe four. I’m such a sucker for a slideshow! I got to mingle with all of my family, meet some of Kenny’s family for the first time (shoutout to my dance partner Shawna!) and better yet, I got to introduce my mom to the Moscow Mule. Her life is forever changed. We went to Thai food after, because duh, never enough food, and then we went back to the hotel.
Photos are always made better by a Moscow Mule. Or two.
Dance Partners Forever!
The blushing bride and her Grandma, the queen of the dance floor!
Can you see the resemblance?
Cousins!
Meanwhile, my favorite emoji-bf STILL had not arrived! When I got back to the hotel, I found out his flight had been delayed 4 times, then canceled, after he had already been on the plane for an hour! Ultimately, he made it to the hotel by 7 am the next day, without his bag. He took a 3 am Amtrak and managed to piece together a wedding outfit from a tux shirt, a blazer he keeps in his office, and some too-tight slacks (photos below). Don’t worry, we are currently in negotiations for some compensation from Delta. Putting my ESQ. to good use.
Since the bf had barely arrived by the time we were supposed to leave for our Segway tour, I subbed in my brother’s girlfriend for the tour, instead. We had some epic Metro issues; I guess NYC isn’t alone in their #publictransitproblems. But the good news is, we made a new friend on the Metro who we shared an Uber with. Renee, are you out there somewhere? I should have gotten your contact info! Anyway, we embarked on my longest Segway Tour to date, by Bike and Roll DC. We got a Groupon (major tip here for Segway tours), and it was so much fun! Our tour guide Jen was so awesome, I made sure to write a review on Groupon and Trip Advisor. Also, it came with free popsicles and water. We rolled around DC for 2.5 hours with a family from Copenhagen, learning awesome little-known facts and taking a million photos. Did you know, legend has it that the 50 US flags around the Washington Monument were originally supposed to be state flags but the states couldn’t agree on which would be closest to the White House so they are all US flags instead? Did you know that Truman barely got to live in the White House because when he tried to move in, his piano broke through the rotting floor boards? He had to move out while they gutted the whole thing. Some say they approved the plans to add the Truman Balcony (now one of the most-noticeable things on the facade) to commemorate him and make up for the fact that he could barely live there.
Ready to Roll!
Cliché, but so worth it.
Partner in crime.
Our adopted Copenhagen Family. And the Capitol Building.
Lincoln Ussie.
Post-Tour popsicles with our awesome tour guide.
After the awesome Segway tour, we headed back to the hotel for a quick dip in the pool, then got ready for the wedding! We took the shuttle bus to the Stone Tower Winery, which was even prettier than the photos. Really, the pictures do not do it justice. And the sunset… woah. Anyway, I’m getting ahead of myself. I was scared it would be blazing hot (outside wedding in July? NO THANKS), but it wasn’t as bad as I had feared. There was a nice breeze, they had a table with lemon-infused water and champagne to the side of the ceremony, and instead of classic programs, they had the information printed on little fans. Very cute touch.
Bus on the way to the winery. After I did my hair. On a moving vehicle.
Staying cool with water and custom fans.
Blushing MARRIED WOMAN and her wine.
This place really was breathtaking.
My cousin looked absolutely amazing, not that I’m biased or anything 😉 She was walked down the aisle by her mom and dad, which I always find sweet. They asked for no phones out during the ceremony, so no photos of that. Also, they wrote their own vows, which is so much more personal. I was listening intently since I was a rule-follower and had put away my phone. I only cried two more times. Okay, three. The officiant was actually their backup officiant, after a particularly gruesome kickball accident, and he totally killed it. Short, sweet, funny, and he could pronounce both of their names! (Trust, me that is not always the case). Both bride and groom added One Direction lyrics to their vows, which was hilarious and amazing and unplanned. They each broke individual glasses, which was a new tradition I had not seen before, but I liked the concept of not just having the guy do it.
The reception was so much fun. The dance floor was poppin’ (extra shoutout to my 88-year-old grandmother who never left the dance floor), there were glow sticks, there was an open bar, and an outdoor patio if you needed a break from the music. The hora was fun, minus a minor chandelier-tiara-head incident, and the toasts were hilarious. I got to sit with my cousins and next to my aunt and uncle. The craziest thing that happened all night: someone from the same floor of my college dorm, freshman year, 12 years ago, recognized me! She is married to a friend of the groom. Craziest small world ever. Things like that do not happen when you go to a school with over 50,000 students. It was so great to see you, Anna!
The real star of the reception was the fire pit and the DIY s’mores. With Reese’s cups! WHAT!? It was amazing. My emoji-bf informed me that since he was an Eagle Scout, I need not show him how to roast a marshmallow. Excusez-moi. We had a sparkler sendoff for the bride and groom, which was a super fun ending to a great night.
Lessons Learned:
I have too many friends in DC and I need to visit more often (next time Brittany/Davon/Tahon/Kristina!)
Orangetheory will leave me sore for days (ok, already knew that).
Segways are amazing (I knew that too).
I really like my brother’s gf (don’t screw this up, bro!)
I need to get together with my extended family more often.
Weddings in July are not always as hot as you’d fear, with enough champagne.
The GatorNation is Everywhere!
I need to write shorter blog posts.
Family Photo! One of these things is not like the other hahahha
20 days into summer and it officially happened to me. The most dreaded thing for all New Yorkers. And yet the most inevitable as well. No, I do not mean finding a roach in your apartment (inevitable). Or a mariachi band on your commute home after a 14-hour day (also inevitable). This is arguably worse than both: an un-air conditioned subway car.
You have heard the stories, and if you have ever lived through a summer in this steamy, garbage-stenched city, you have probably experienced it. This living horror story never happens when you are on your way home, minutes from a cold shower, or on your way to a pool where you can cool off (supposedly a few of these exist in Manhattan-proper; it’s like a unicorn). No, these 5-10 minutes of Dante’s Inferno hell ALWAYS happen on your way to work, or worse, on your way to an important business meeting or interview. This is Satan’s way of making sure that when you show up, you smell half like a homeless person, and half like rotting garbage, and your hair is plastered to your face to really accentuate your cheekbones and the mascara-tinged-sweat that is still slowly dripping down the sides of your previously well-made-up face. Am I exaggerating? Maybe slightly. But for the most part, no. This is by far one of the worst things that can happen to a New Yorker in the summer besides finding out your landlord is raising your rent 15% (this actually happened to me).
In the past, I have recounted several experiences in stream of consciousness, from my one and only half marathon, to my thoughts leading up to my first date with my emoji boyfriend. Dante’s Inferno Subway Car is one of those highly-relatable phenomena that lends itself to second-by-second analysis. Every second’s thoughts being mostly, “GET ME THE F*CK OUT OF HERE.” Read my thoughts below and let me know in the comments if you’ve ever had the same feelings.
“YES. Only 2 minutes until the next train. Maybe I’ll actually be on time.”
Note: You are ALWAYS running late when this happens, it’s like Newton’s 4th Law
“Empty car? This is too good to be true.”
Note: It’s ALWAYS too good to be true.
*doors open* “Hmm, the air coming out seems warm, is it warm?” *walks in car*
*doors close* “OMG I HAVE ENTERED THE GATES OF HELL. SOMEBODY HELP ME.”
“I have 3 stops, can I make it all the way there in this steam room of rotting human flesh?”
*looks around* “There are at least 10 other people in here that are managing. I can do this.”
“I CANNOT DO THIS. HOW ARE THESE 10 PEOPLE DOING THIS?!”
“3 stops to go, though, is it worth switching cars?”
“I’m switching cars at the next stop.”
*peeps through window to next car, sees it’s completely full*
“Ok maybe it’s actually better in here with all of my room! It’s hot, but at least no one else is in here.”
*legs slide down seat because of sweat between them* “It’s not better. Still 2 stops to go? I gotta get out of here.”
*train stops between stations* “You’ve got to be kidding me. Am I being Punk’d?”
*looks around, sees no cameras, sees a lot of other miserable people* “Why is no one else sweating as much as me?”
“Do you think they would notice if I wiped my face with my shirt?”
*wipes face with shirt* “SHIT I forgot I was wearing foundation. Now my makeup AND my shirt are ruined.”
“Who even cares, no one will be able to see past the fact that I look like I casually popped in a pool on my way here.”
“Remember that time when I blow-dried my hair this morning? LOL”
“Well at least I remembered waterproof mascara today. Was my eyeliner waterproof?”
“They should really advertise this specific situation in makeup commercials.”
“No, they shouldn’t. No one would buy a product with anyone in the commercial looking like how I look right now.”
“I know my parents constantly remind me that subways never had AC back in their day, but ‘their day’ was BEFORE GLOBAL WARMING WAS A THING.”
“What if I actually die in here? How long does it take to die from heat?”
“Ok, I’d probably faint first. That might be more comfortable than consciousness.”
“Is it possible to make oneself faint?”
“Then I’d definitely be late, though. But it would be a great excuse.”
*doors open* “One stop to go, switching cars!” *runs faster than I have in years of going to run club*
“OMG I never thought I’d get to heaven and yet here I am.”
“Are wet t-shirt contests still a thing? Because I think I’m #Winning”
“Does this count as my workout for the day? I think I sweat more in the past 7 minutes than I did in Spin class last night.”
“What are the chances I dry off before my destination? Probs slim to none.”
Well, there you have it. In all of its #sweatzilla, disgusting glory. Note to the tourists visiting NYC in the summer, BEWARE the empty subway car, don’t even bother trying to do your hair, and ALWAYS bring extra deodorant.
It’s July 10th, so it’s about time to review July 4th. I’m a bit behind. My 4th of July Freedom-Fest came together at the very last minute, but it included all the makings of a fantastic day: a quick getaway from NYC, best friends, a pool, and (most importantly?) unlimited food. Oh, and of course, I can never resist a good theme. I was in red white and blue EVERYTHING, all day, toes to bows, with multiple outfit changes.
My best friend is a member of the New York Athletic Club, an incredibly exclusive social and athletic club in NYC. Memberships are by invitation only, and you need to appear before a membership board for an interview before acceptance. It’s so exclusive, in fact, that they only began admitting women in 1989 (“voluntarily”… after the Supreme Court mandated it and some controversy ensued that it was not a business club, etc. etc.). They have had their share of controversies over admissions and have been picketed by demonstrators by the Congress for Racial Equality. Enough about that history. Read their Wikipedia for more. Anywayyy, I was pretty psyched to get an invite to Travers Island, full-Jew-blood and all.
NYAC has two houses, one in Manhattan (City House), and one in Westchester (Travers Island). I couldn’t wait to explore this country oasis 15 miles from Manhattan. Since my emoji bf had hurt his back the day prior, we made it a girls’ day, and boarded the free shuttle from NYC at 10 am, loaded up with multiple red, white, and blue clothing items, and varying SPF’s of sun protection. Upon boarding the bus I hid my Jew curls, and thanked my stars that my POC bf had stayed at home for fear of the WASP-illuminati. JK. But also really. So many blondes! More than I had ever seen in New York before.
The charter bus ride was quick, and we arrived at this beautiful house on the Long Island Sound, complete with an Olympic-sized salt water pool. There were chairs, beautifully-manicured trees, and young men (boys?) to help us move our chairs to the perfect half sunny/half shady/prime fireworks-viewing position. And yes, it was only 11 am, but we were thinking ahead. Totally paid off. We changed into swimsuits in the huge locker rooms (2nd themed outfit of the day), and sunscreened it up. We spent the day hopping between the huge pool and the buffet BBQ with multiple salads, roasted fennel, hot dogs, hamburgers, and all-you-can-eat popsicles/ice cream bars.
Group shot in front of the amazing Travers Island house.
All You Can Eat. All Day. I think we definitely took full advantage.
Our half-shade spot and out red, white, and blue regalia.
Things under water are smaller than they appear. Maybe.
Never met a theme I didn’t love.
We did a few laps around the pool so we could get some fitbit steps in and burn off maybe one half of one ice cream bar. On one of our laps around the pool, we discovered the kids’ area. We asked around, and found out that we were probably too big for the bouncy water slide, but snow cones and cotton candy were fair game and they opened at 5 pm. They had temporary tattoos as well, but the line was too long (and I was a little embarrassed since most of the 30-year-olds there were accompanied by their own children). We continued our circuit from food to pool to laying out to walking around to kill time, and at 5 pm we circled back to the kids’ area and finally got cotton candy AND snow cones, because go big or go home. Everything was amazing. The sun was still high in the sky, and our unlimited food wristbands included dinner as well. Dinner added seasoned and grilled shrimp skewers, which were AMAZING. I had decided at 1 pm to skip all bread and rolls to save room for more food. Good strategy, worked all day for me. I may be done with #30Years30IceCreams, but I am clearly failing at any attempt I thought I’d make at a diet.
Can you tell she’s Australian? She fully embraces the culture.
Snow cone extravaganza!
Never too old for pure sugar on shaved ice.
The view was spectacular. As was the company!
The sun finally started to set at 8:30 pm, and we changed into another dry, red, white, and blue outfit, and parked ourselves on blankets for the 10 pm fireworks. After 20+ rounds of Heads Up!, the best way ever to kill time, we brought out our glow sticks and prepared ourselves for the show. We had seen the pyrotechnics crew at the buffet earlier (the only visible tattoos and facial hair I saw all day) and there were 20 of them, so we were hoping for a great show. We were NOT disappointed. The private show lasted 15 full minutes, and they were some of the closest fireworks I had ever seen! I took at least 4 boomerangs for my insta story (because pics or it didn’t happen), and then we packed up to go. We boarded the VIP shuttle back to the City House, and half-slept/half-watched fireworks along the East River as we drove back into Manhattan. 9 hot dogs, 5 shrimp skewers, lots of tan lines, and innumerable trips to the bathroom later, I’d say we had a fantastic day. We didn’t even have one drink! It was real American clean fun. Until next year, maybe they’ll allow emoji-humans entry to NYAC by then. U-S-A! U-S-A!
Gearing up for the show.
These fireworks were RIGHT over our heads!
More fireworks. In case you’ve never seen them before.
Last week I reviewed 305 Fitness, and now, I need to tell you all about my experience with The Dance, another dance-cardio class, emphasis on dance, no emphasis on eating.
My roommate from law school has been capital-O-OBSESSED with this class, and has been raving about it, swearing it’s the most fun and best workout she has had in a long time. I had to try it out, even though at $35/class, I knew it was probably a one-time-thing. It’s held in Studio B, on the third floor of Bandier on 5th Avenue. I was 30 minutes early to class, and having enough self-knowledge to know that I cannot resist buying when I’m around workout clothes, I walked straight up to the studio without passing go, or collecting $200 in debt by shopping in the store on the ground level.
Amanda Kloots, a former Radio City Rockette-turned Broadway performer, created The Dance, as well as The Rope, an all-jump-rope workout, which I was definitely not ready for yet. Amanda was a ray of sunshine from the moment she walked in the room. She is about 6’1”, all legs and abs and blonde fitness-model physique. And that Rockette smile training did not fail her. How intimidating. She was a ball of energy, and her smile was intoxicating #nohomo. I had scoped out her Instagram (@amandakloots) before the class to see what I was up against and what I should wear. Most of the people were wearing crop tops, which was definitely not going to happen after my #30Years30IceCreams binge last month, so I decided for the exact opposite: a not-so-subtle tank top I received as a gift, that said “I Run For Ice Cream.” Fact, but embarrassing.
When I walked into class, I realized my epic wardrobe fail. Not only did I look like I had eaten ONE HUNDRED ice creams on my way over compared to everyone else, I was advertising it on my shirt! I was pretty sure I was the only one who had eaten all day in that room. Oh well. I guess I should have expected it from my Instagram pre-research. My friend insisted that I not go to the back row, so I sucked it up (literally, I was sucking in my stomach as much as I could), and readied myself for some dance.
I will admit, I am generally pretty coordinated. Both of my parents dance (they met in an international folk dance troupe!), I took classes in ballet, jazz, tap and Irish dance from the age of 2, til I was 12, AND my favorite fitness class to teach is step aerobics. However, I would never consider myself a “dancer.” This class was COMPLICATED! She taught the combos quickly and assumed you would catch on. I later learned that she does a lot of the same routines over again, which made me feel better because I was wondering how everyone was so much better than me! I guess I will have to go back (and spend another $35) to hone my The Dance skillz. This must be how they earn their money! There was only one prescribed water break during the whole class, which meant the cardio kept coming at me!
In summary: this class was a BLAST. I got a great sweat on, I learned fun dances, I shook my butt to Bootylicious, and every time I caught my reflection in the mirror, I had a huge smile on my face. My self-consciousness was all in my head, and Amanda definitely made me feel welcome, despite the fact that I was the size of a Tonka Truck compared to her Hot Wheels car-sized body. She even came over after class and asked if I was new, introduced herself, and told me I was “cute” because I was smiling the whole time. I didn’t admit that half of the time it was because I was laughing at myself as I was 3 beats behind. I would recommend this class to anyone with impeccable coordination, stamina, and rock-hard abs. Or substitute the rock-hard abs with unwavering self-confidence, and you will be good to go. As Amanda would say, #JumpSkipSmile!
I am addicted to my fitbit. And I do not care what anybody says, it absolutely helps me stay fit and someday (maybe after I stop eating 2 ice creams/day) it WILL help me lose weight. Here’s how I know: when I’m not wearing it, I am willfully lazier. This can be easily explained by a quick comparison: If a tree falls in the forest and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound? Similarly, if I walk to work and I’m not wearing my fitbit, does it even count?? Answer: NO. SO WHY BOTHER. The wheels on the MTA bus go round and round, and I have a fancy piece of very expensive paper called an unlimited Metrocard.
In November 2015, my life changed. It makes my blood curdle to think about the hundreds of thousands of steps I took before then, ALL WASTED. In 2015, my favorite emoji-faced boyfriend got me a fitbit Charge HR because I was incredibly jealous of his. I was so excited to compete with him in steps and in sleep! Spoiler Alert: I beat him every single day in both, as he was working 80+ hours/week, which didn’t leave much time for movement or sleep. (Fun Fact: I still beat him every day, and he no longer works those hours.) Anyway, that is how my addiction began. It has slowly progressed to take control of my entire life.
Since then, I have switched to the newer, more advanced, Charge 2 Fitbit. The Charge 2 tracks multiple forms of exercise, has a GPS for my runs, receives my text messages and alerts me of calendar events, and it reminds me to move 250 steps every hour between 8 am and 7 pm. My fitbit buzzes on my wrist like a dog collar at 10 minutes to the hour to remind me to move if I have not walked enough. It is a part of me and I am a part of it. I wear it 23 hours and 50 minutes/day, with 10 minutes off for a shower. That means I also wear it to bed. (I have often wondered if it tracks THAT type of activity too… 😉 ). It tracks my sleep not just in awake/asleep increments, but in full light/deep/REM cycle stages. Spoiler alert #2: I never get more than 7 hours of sleep from M-F, I’m lucky if I get 6. Fitbit is sure to always remind me of that, although the circles under my eyes are a clear enough indicator.
Let me tell you a quick horror story from 2 weeks ago. I had taken my fitbit off at work (GASP) because I needed to charge it and I knew I had a big project to work on. I figured I would charge it for 50 minutes, until it yelled at me to “Get Steppin!” at 10 minutes til the top of the hour. Then, the unthinkable happened: 5 o’clock came and went, and I left the office without my fitbit. Now, on any day, this would be enough for me to panic and go back to the office. But on this particular day, I was on my way to teach a Spin class. So many lost steps! I usually get 8,000 steps between walking to the train, walking to the gym, teaching, walking to the train, and walking home. And this doesn’t even count the workout that I specifically track. How would I know what my max heart rate was, and how long my intervals were, and how many calories I burned, and what my average heart rate was over the 1 hour???
But I was already late, and I didn’t have time to go back. Devastation. And it gets worse: I was teaching the next morning at 7 am before work, which meant before I got a chance to get my fitbit!! 11,000 MORE steps wasted!! (Different gym, further from the subway station). Now I know what you’re thinking: “WHAT A TRAVESTY!” Oh, you weren’t thinking that? Were you thinking “this girl is crazy; how does she know how many steps it takes her to get from home to every different gym in the 5 boroughs of New York City?” Obsessive fitbit-checking, that’s how.
I know how many steps it is from my street corner to the front door of my apartment (420, if I take the elevator). I know how many steps it is from my work computer to my favorite bathroom (one-way, and round-trip). I know how many steps it is from my bed to my refrigerator (12, I have long legs). I know how many times I have to walk around the living room to get to 250 steps (14, New York apartments are small).
I thought that I was alone in my obsession, but I am becoming more and more aware that I am one of MANY. How do I know? At 9:50, 10:50, 11:50 etc, the hallways get a lot more crowded at work. And at first glance, it looks like everyone is running late checking their watches, but no, they are checking their fitbits. My own sister admitted to me last week that she purposefully waits until after the 5 o’clock hour, so she can get her 250 steps in before she gets in the car to commute home, in case traffic lengthens her commute (god forbid) and it forces her to miss her mandatory steps for the hour. My whole family, in fact, competes in steps every week. Monday evening we receive our “Weekly Progress Report from Fitbit” via email, which inevitably starts a sh*t-talking family group text. My mom is having a hip replacement next month, and she has already warned me that I better watch out because once she gets her new hip, I will never win the week again. GAME ON MOMMY. I have realized that fitbit has made me frighteningly competitive. And I generally play to win, even with a desk job, since it takes me 2,000 steps to get to work, and that’s if I take the subway! As my fitbit would say, “CRUSHED IT!”
Anyone else want to be my Fitbit friend/frenemy/ultimate-stepping-nemesis? Add me! I promise to double you in steps.
Fitbit is always on me, Goes to Canada with me. I’m almost as attached as I am to Purple Bear.
Costa Rica Fitbit Photo.
Biking… with my Fitbit and my Emoji in tow.
Fitbit (older version) after a race with my brother. He won the race. My Fitbit did not help me win, but I finished!
Monday I talked to my mom 4 separate times on the phone. And that doesn’t include the one time I called her and it went to voicemail so I just hung up knowing I’d call her back later. The most surprising part of this? It’s not abnormal at all.
True life: I am 30 years old and I talk to my mom multiple times a day. Generally in 4-minute increments. On my way to the subway. On my way from the subway to work. Walking to grab lunch. Waiting in line for lunch. Even waiting for an abnormally slow elevator. Sometimes it continues into my elevator trip, much to the chagrin of the other elevator passengers.
We have become very good at selfies over the years.
She can’t quite lift me up anymore. Such a shame.
We’ve been close for years. I haven’t been this skinny in years either, though.
Strolling the High Line on a fun day trip in NYC.
Last year, I read a piece in Vogue called “I’m an Adult Woman, and I Call My Mother Three Times a Day” and I was like OMG THIS IS ME. It’s so me that I link to it in my About Me page here on the blog. The only difference is that I don’t have kids… yet. I can’t imagine how many times I will call her, then.
I was scrolling through Instagram last night and I came across a buzzfeed video of “Things We Still Ask Our Moms,” which is pretty accurate because honestly, who knows when mascara expires, or how to wash something that says “dry clean only?” Mommy does, that’s who. However, half of the time I call my mom not to ask questions, but just to give her general updates on what EXACTLY I did on that specific day. I can’t bore my boyfriend with this tedium, and my friends definitely don’t give a sh*t, but my mom? SHE HAS TO LOVE ME. And she has to pretend to care.
Back to Monday when I called my mom incessantly. Did I mention it was my dad’s birthday? I talked to him once, too, but there were SO MANY THINGS I had to tell my mom. Examples of the things that just could not wait until the next day to tell her: I got a new book out from the library (Hungry Heart by Jennifer Weiner). I went to the grocery store (has she ever heard of this new flavor of SmartPop?). My boss was being a big B (not a rare occurrence). My spin class had 29 people despite great weather (also not surprising). I clocked so many steps on my Fitbit so I knew I would beat her for the week (I’m always over 10,000, nothing new there). More on my Fitbit obsession another time.
Sometimes I feel bad because I call my mom and it goes something like this:
Me: “Hi! What’s up?”
Mommy: “You know…”
Me: “Well you won’t believe what happened to me in the past 2 hours since the last time I’ve talked to you.”
Should I wait an extra 2 seconds for her to finish her thoughts before I launch into the full saga of events that happened to me between 9 am and 11 am? PROBABLY. But I just can’t help it, I have SO MUCH TO SAY.
Last week, my friend said at dinner, “I’m so stressed about moving, don’t judge me, but I have been calling my mom every day during lunch just to vent.” I answered with “GIRL!! I have talked to my mom every day since FOREVER!” Then I started to think about when it was exactly that I started calling my mom all the time. I think the answer is: as soon as I moved out of her house. Even in undergrad, when most people are specifically trying to get away from their parents, I remember my sophomore year apartment had bad cell reception so I had to step outside on the stairwell to call my mom. About what!? NOTHING. As usual. But it was enough of an emergency that I had to use my secret back door and stand on a deserted fire escape stairwell in the winter to tell her all of that nothing.
Last week I went to Canada, and when I finally called my mom after I touched down back in NYC, she said “I missed you SO MUCH!” Despite, of course, me emailing her 3 times during my 3-day trip, and calling her from the airport right before my plane took off. Some people will read this and say “wow, you must be best friends with your mom then, huh?” And to that I would tell them that my mom always was clear that she never wanted to be my friend, just my mom. In fact, we weren’t even Facebook friends until 4 years ago! We may not be “friends,” but we are really, really, really close.
I gotta go now, I haven’t called my mom yet to tell her what I had for lunch.
In the past week I have been to two dance-cardio classes, 305 Fitness and The Dance with Amanda Kloots, and I have never had more fun. In fact, after The Dance, the instructor came up to me and told me I was “cute” and she liked all of my smiles. I couldn’t help it, I had a blast! And when I was 2 beats behind, I was still having fun laughing at myself. I even went to one of the classes FOR FREE (SEE BELOW!) So what’s the difference and which one is for you? Check out my review below of 305 Fitness, and my review of The Dance coming later this week.
305 FitnASS
Metaphor: Zumba on crack. This place is all about fun, funk, sass, feminine positivity and CARDIO. Like woah. I left that class completely drenched and feeling all of the positive vibes. 305 Fitness, named for Miami’s area code (even though it was started in NYC) is all about Miami-inspired high-intensity rhythmic cardio with a LIVE DJ, sprint intervals, sculpting, and a stretch cooldown.
I’m not going to lie, I am a bit jaded about 305, because I have a rough history with them: Two years ago, after taking 3 classes and falling in love, I interviewed to be their studio manager. At the time, I had 9 years of experience in the fitness industry, management knowledge, I’m a girl, I’m sassy, AND I’m from South Florida (5-6-1, not 3-0-5, but close enough). I was sure I was a shoo-in. Sure enough, I had three interviews, culminating in a 2.5 hour meeting with a panel of three, including the founder, Sadie Kurzban, where they insisted it be in the middle of the day so I had to take a day off of work. Ultimately, they gave the job to someone else. That alone would not have put a bad taste in my mouth, but what happened after, did.
The Director of Operations called me, left a voicemail asking for me to call back so he could speak to me in person to “talk to me about the position at 305.” I thought I got the job! But no, instead, he told me that in exchange for my time interviewing, he would gift me 2 free classes, and he offered for me to join their “work-study team,” to work FOR FREE at their front desk in exchange for free classes. BOY, PLEASE!!! I actually waited a minute to see if he was kidding. Not only am I a licensed ATTORNEY IN TWO STATES, I already have a full-time job where they pay me, I also have a part-time job, working for a gym, where they PAY ME to teach classes AND I get all the free classes I want! This is New York City, the land of the hustle, not the land of indentured servitude. I am 10 years and 3 careers past accepting an unpaid internship. Needless to say, it left a bad taste in my mouth and I did not even take advantage of those free classes. In retrospect, if they weren’t paying their front-desk people ANYTHING, they probably couldn’t have paid me enough anyway.
Fast-forward 2 years, and I was ready to pop back into their new studio (they added one in midtown), where I would hopefully not be recognized. I figured I had talked enough sh*t throughout 2 years (maybe not enough, since I’m talking more sh*t here), and plus, I was in the mood to DANCE! Classes are $32 a piece, but you can get a 2 for 1 deal if you are new, OR you can get a completely free class, compliments of a lululemon collaboration, before August with the code:305xlululemon17. I cannot turn down a free class, so I sucked up my pride, and became a “junkie” last Friday night. They call their clients junkies because they “can’t get enough.”
Walking into the studio, I already knew I would have fun. The vibe was fun and flirty, hot pink and bright orange, and even their trash cans sported their tagline “Make Sweat Sexy.” The chandeliers were made of SmartWater Bottles, and they had shirts for purchase that said “Beyoncé Tubman Ruth and Steinem.” They also had a graphic tee that said “MY BITCH FACE NEVER RESTS.” Love that.
The class itself was an epic sweat-fest, as I said before. The first 30 minutes were straight jumping and dripping, with arms flailing, DJ spinning, and heart pumping. My instructor was Destiny, and she sort of seemed pissed off when we weren’t getting all of the moves, but maybe that’s just her RBF. She was an amazing dancer, and I was not taking myself too seriously, so I disregarded the look on her face. Also, she was sick so her voice was almost gone and it was difficult to hear her. Most of the moves were easy to follow with non-verbal cues and clapping, like in Zumba, and I definitely got a good workout, even if I missed a move or two.
After 30 minutes, we switched to 6 minutes of butt-toning with ankle weights (we chose the 305 FitnASS class), and then back to 20 more minutes of partner cardio, disco lines, and twerking across the floor, including a segment on our hands and knees. I think my face got a workout as well as my body, from laughing at myself so much. At one point, Destiny came over to me and we partner twerked, butt-on-butt, for a full 20 seconds. First, I was focusing on how my sweaty butt was probably getting her legs wet since she was in tiny, tiny booty shorts, but after I got over that, it was pretty fun.
Overall, it’s a great cardio-dance class, with a strong emphasis on cardio, and I highly recommend this class for anyone, dancer or not. Maybe not recommended if you have bad knees, since we were basically jumping for 45 minutes straight! I had a lot of fun, I got a great workout, and I was sore for two days. Should you work for them for free? Definitely not. Is one class worth $32? Probably not, but there isn’t much I would spend that money on. Is it worth a subway ride and a free class code? Absolutely yes.
Extra tip: I recommend bringing a friend so you can laugh with and make fun of each other, and so you have a built-in photographer to take twerking gifs of you in the black light. #MAKESWEATSEXY!
Pro Tip: Bring friends to laugh with!!
Photographer Needed. Also, for the full boomerang action, check out my Instagram.
