Half marathon training is going swimmingly. I’m actually feeling myself get faster and more “conditioned.” I didn’t play sports competitively as a kid, so this feeling of athletic growth is new for me and very exciting. Is this what all of your childhoods were like? Tell me more!
Did you just ride your bikes after school to track meets and then pedal home with the weight of your medals hanging from your necks? I figured you did. Belated Mazel Tov! I imagine it looked something like this:
Not too long ago, I wrote a pretty comprehensive list of free running clubs in the 212. But who doesn’t like even more free stuff? Below is a list of free ways to work out in NYC that aren’t just running (though, some are).
Atheta + (Well+Good)= Sweat Series. Well+Good handpicked 18 of the city’s top fitness instructors for these rad (and complimentary) Sunday morning workouts hosted by Athleta all year long in its New York City stores.
NYC Parks are running a ton of classes, from Zumba to Kickboxing to Yoga (and more) in all 5 boroughs.
Running Bun wrote a thoughtful post reflecting on workout-related regrets during her pregnancy. She writes about feeling frustrated and disappointed for not wanting to and not being able to exercise the last trimester. A committed exerciser, she had imagined having a different experience. She got jealous of ladies who could run 8 miles on their due date. Post-pregnancy she doesn’t regret not working out but she regrets the time spent beating herself up about not working out.
Baby now in tow, Running Bun writes “It is such a short period of time and I wish I had taken the time to really enjoy what was happening.”
That struck a cord with me. Not the pregnancy part. The other part.
I have a distinct memory of being in a yoga class and feeling supremely angry at myself for not being able to do a more advanced version of the pose. TRY HARDER my internal coach can belt. I walked out of class feeling more defeated than when I walked in. And from all the literature I’ve read on yoga, I don’t think that’s the point.
I can think of at least two one-day juice cleanses that did not end in juice. And I remember feeling like a failure. A truffle-soaked french fry failure.
It’s one thing to obsess over Michelle Obama’s arms. Or your Physique 57 instructor’s entire body. But as far as I’m concerned, those aren’t REAL people. They are public-facing heroes of the human form. I imagine they can dedicate something I can’t to their bods. (Ie: Close the East Wing! It’s Soul Cycle time, baby! Evidently this is happening, lucky lady.)
So when I see someone in amazing shape in the wild (re: on the subway, at a party) I get a major girl crush. Who is this perfect human specimen?