Manhattan Fit

As a healthy college kid (ignore my lack of muscle mass for a second), I would say I'm reasonably fit. Unfortunately, "reasonably fit" doesn't cut it in crazy New York City. There's a whole different kind of fit out here, and it's very unique.

I call it: Manhattan Fit.

After four days of strutting the streets and avenues of Midtown and Chelsea, after hours of carting grocery bags up and down the garment district, of standing in the scorching sun for Broadway tickets and hustling through Central Park, my body was begging to stop. My legs were rubber, my skin was red, my toes had blisters, my blisters had blisters, and my biceps could barely lift themselves.

But no more! Today marked the beginning of a turnaround -- my physique is starting to adapt to the New York regime. Manhattan Fit is all about toning five key areas: legs, feet, arms, skin, and wardrobe. See, New Yorkers need strong legs and tough feet to walk the streets and hop subways all day. They need bulging arms to carry their shopping bags and bejeweled designer totes, and they desire dark skin slipped inside the sleekest outfits for optimal sexiness and femininity. In fact, if New Yorkers were Nazis, this would pretty much be their Aryan race:


Hopefully I don't come back looking like that. However, my callouses are hardening quickly, my sun burns are browning nicely, and my hamstrings feel better than ever. In fact, thanks to my height, my long legs are the envy of everyone I pass on the sidewalks. I've seen them staring; New Yorkers would kill for a pair of these.

In related news, my favorite pass time is listening to music while walking to and from my various destinations. Every time I take out my prehistoric iPod Video, though, I get a few pity looks. Don't you know how much faster those beautiful legs could go if they weren't weighed down by that anchor?

But for every person on the sidewalk in NY who gives you a look, there are five dozen others who will stampede right through you without glancing up. Oh, with one exception: at every crosswalk, mobs gather on opposite sides waiting for the light to turn red. They stare each other down, pawing their hooves. And when the light blinks red to stop the traffic, everyone charges into no-man's land, slow motion, screaming at the top of their lungs.

I've seen some grim casualties.

Anyways, back to Manhattan Fit. Up until today, I've worked out four of five key areas (legs, feet, arms, and skin). This afternoon I finally got to area five: wardrobe. Macy's had awesome sales -- 50% off most shorts and shirts -- so I stocked up on summer-wear and headed back home. At this point, I know what I'm after. I don't really window shop any more and, in New York fashion, I never buy something unless I know it's on sale. I've also learned the quickest way to get home, which, for some strange reason, was filled with marching protesters today. But instead of re-routing my path, I marched with the protesters for two blocks (calling out "Free Gaza!" three or four times for the heck of it) and then parted down 6th.

All in all, I'd call it a successful day. I'm not completely Manhattan Fit yet, but it's still only week one. Gimme a full summer and I could totally chisel my way to that hot body above...

Or not. I have a feeling Canada wouldn't let me back in.