a little about me.
a somewhat formal introduction
Now seems like a good moment to formally introduce myself. Before this Substack has so many posts that it would be a long scroll back, before I’m so overcome with something that I must sit down and write, I’ll catch myself in this window afforded by my lingering cold and shift to routine that happens when you are gearing up for int’l travel. (My mom has my two pups as of today, so I find myself at loose ends without the schedule their presence imposes effortlessly.)
I founded Brooklyn Strength Studio in December of 2010. I was 28 years old and there was a recession. I opened with an empty bank account and a whole lot of bank loan debt. I had a ‘build it and they will come’ mentality. They did. (some of You did!) The five, then 11 clients we had in the first six months managed to keep the rent paid. (Wonderfully, those first five are still clients to this day.) I white knuckled through each month, so aware of how slim the margins were, how steep the precipice on each side of our stability. My accountant congratulated me on the tiny profit I managed that year. I managed to throw my back out from stress.
Columbia Place, the location of my first storefront, remains beloved in my heart like a first apartment. I probably spent more time there than in my actual apartment. Looking out those windows I could see the front doors of many of our clients and wave to so many others as they walked by on their commute or to join the brunch line, jumbled by baby carriages and sidewalk conversations at the new neighborhood cafe. Brooklyn Bridge Park had yet to be built. We had a neighbor with a live parrot on her shoulder. I kept trying to make a garden stick in our completely shaded and dog urine soaked tree pit. We rescued huge dragonflies, drunk from the excesses of the East River, from our recessed lighting. I learned I was good at working with clients with chronic pain. I taught celebrities. I was part of the Pilates boom of NYC.
We spent eight years on Columbia Place. Any initial romance I had about owning my own business was thoroughly trounced by constant hurdles; absent Landlord, rising city taxes, learning everything there is to learn about prewar NYC plumbing… It was thrilling and exhausting. Romance was replaced by tenacity. Illusion with grit. I grew up. The constant challenges stoked what a mentor of mine calls the ‘radical optimism’ that small business owners must posses to survive. Only a few years in, and with a little stability under my belt, I sought to expand and meet new challenges.
I opened Brooklyn Strength Cobble Hill in 2014 with Manuel Zelaya as part owner. That space did everything I hoped it would except make a wild profit (thanks ClassPass). Brooklyn Strength became more than a small studio. I had two locations, a bit more of a brand, and a diversified clientele that engaged with me on social media. I received wonderful press. My own teaching sharpened as my clients became clear. I wasn’t just teaching Pilates anymore, and I wasn’t just a Pilates teacher. I was meeting a need for approachable fitness for intelligent, questioning women (and a few interested men) who didn’t feel comfortable in the usual gym setting, who don’t want to workout in front of mirrors while being marketed at via social media posts featuring ‘ glitter sweat’ or toned tummies. I was part of a new discussion; ‘body positivity’, ‘plus size’, feminism and anti-patriarchy. Lena Dunham, Amy Schumer and the Women’s March were in our news feeds and inspiring our conversations. I taught an early iteration of Fascia Release™ at the Women’s Convention in Detroit; 3000 angry activated women converging to make change. We marched. We talked about vaginas in class. We learned how strong we are. We stayed past the 50 minute class mark to discuss podcasts, dating, politics and destroying the patriarchy, you now, girl stuff. A lot of you became my friends.
In 2018 with the din of group fitness on every corner becoming deafening, our lease on Columbia Place ending, and my physical will to race between two locations on foot or by bike; rain, sleet and sun, waning, I decided to combine the two studios and moved into a beautiful live-work space on the Columbia St. waterfront. In nearly a decade the strengths of Brooklyn Strength had become clear. I focused on Fascia Release™, the self-massage technique I trademarked and offer in private and workshop form. I recorded season 1 of my Podcast Busy Body with my then co-host, and client, NY Times reporter Jess Testa. My schedule became so packed my assistant and I were booking months ahead and trading late cancels for new client appointments. Workshops sold out with full waitlists every weekend. I taught at The Wing. I taught anatomy for a Yoga Teacher Training. I taught monthly at a Circus School. I guest taught at studios all over Brooklyn and Manhattan. I was teaching 6.5 days a week with about 2 full days off a month.
I looked towards a future where I could double myself, where I could have a more balanced life and not always have to be present to create income. I looked towards a future where all this teaching could afford me the ability to live and work in Brooklyn in separate spaces, when I’d somehow outsmart or outwork the constant rising costs of living and commercial renting. I wondered how I’d continue this pace for another decade. I relished the city. I savored my nighttime waterfront dog walks. I took Ballet class with friends. I took Yoga with my teaching mentors. I sat at friends restaurants and laughed over emptied plates and full glasses. I lived in gratitude for all the things I was doing and experiencing. I kept learning. I loved Brooklyn.
I love what I do, maybe that’s the romance that for me will never be trounced. I am grateful for my work and the people I get to teach every day. I absolutely love teaching you. I look forward to my schedule. I feel full, and joyful, seeing people connect more deeply and richly to their bodies and I get to see that every day. On top of that I happen to teach one of the smartest, most interesting and hilarious clientele that exist. Remember when Bjork was my client?? I have a job where people leave their time with me relaxed, their faces eased, their bodies moving more comfortably. What a dream! What other job has so much happiness involved besides maybe ice cream truck driver? And even I wouldn’t want to take the seasonal hit on that business model.
Almost immediately into the pandemic I realized Brooklyn Strength is so much more than a place. Brooklyn Strength, like Brooklyn the city, is a community; it’s me and it’s you. It’s all of us yelling and laughing and crying about politics and the state of the world (we’ve never been a space that keeps the conversation topics light). It’s walking a client home who had early dementia and holiday parties where class takers became friends. It’s the dogs, yours, you brought with you to sessions, and mine, sitting on you during yours. It’s crying with my clients over miscarriages and celebrating together new careers, and new loves. As soon as lockdown hit I knew I wouldn’t close the Studio, even if location became impossible. You all are my friends and my family, Brooklyn is my home. Brooklyn Strength is who I am.
Here we are, here I am, Brooklyn Strength’s newest address; the world wide web. Teaching virtually has been surprisingly exciting. I can see you quite clearly, reach people all over the world, and still create a sense of care and community between you, me and each other. We’ve continued our growth and joy and commiseration together; sweating, laughing, learning in this new space. 2020 was an extreme challenge but instead of finding a place holder, I found a launch pad. Brooklyn Strength turned ten years old in December of 2020. What wild timing. This year it turns 13. In three short years the goal that was just starting to take shape pre-pandemic... maybe I should do some online content, maybe I could offer classes virtually…became a fully fledged reality.
These days I live on the beach in Brooklyn, in a neighborhood I used to drive my dogs to for recreation and spacious escape. Now I call it home. I have full weekends off each week. (I’m still shocked by that.) And I have the flexibility via the virtual studio to spend summers upstate where my partner is from. A revelation.
This year I’m working on a book. This year I’m reaching more people (you). This year I’m leaning into new ways of connecting. This year I’m finding new paths for my voice. I’m grateful to you for being the ears and eyes and bodies that listen, read and move with me. I’m building something here. I’ve been building something here. And I’m here because of you. Your questions, your struggles, your breakthroughs inspire my words and movement each week. Thank you for being part of this. It's our connection that makes all this effort a story. It’s our connection that makes all this story a life.
If you’d like to work with me virtually or in-person look here.
I teach virtual classes here. And a monthly virtual workshop here.
To keep up with everything look here.