The View From My Window

I hope I’m not jinxing the weather Gods when I say in a very soft whisper…HAPPY SPRING EVERYONE!!!

I feel like we should all run around and give each other high fives for making it through this winter. Way to go, good job, I knew you could do it!  As a fan of snow  and a first time puppy owner it was wonderful seeing my little Dudley (who is not so little anymore)  frolic around and dig doggie igloos for himself.

Dudley & his igloo

 I didn’t enjoy the frostbite after an hour of play, but I did love seeing him exploring his first winter. This last storm however did us in. The wind, the flooding and the trees down all over town pushed me out of winter mode fast. So like most, when the temperature peaked at 70 degrees last week I was a very happy lady. Of course I won’t get my hopes up because I know from experience that although the date might tell us its Spring, the next Nor’easter could be just  a hop skip and a jump away.

 Speaking of hop…the Easter Bunny will be making his appearance in just a few short weeks. I always get nostalgic around Easter time. Thinking back to the days when my mom would dress each one of us up in matching outfits, let’s not forget the bonnet. Oh how I loved my bonnet. It was a day filled with finding our candy baskets, hiding Easter eggs and winning a whole dollar if you found the GOLDEN egg. Most years the golden egg was a regular hard boiled egg wrapped in tin foil. I have no idea why we didn’t call it the “platinum egg” or the “silver egg”. As kids, GOLDEN sounded so much better. Who am I kidding? It still sounds better .

Flash forward to present day and not much has changed. We color eggs, hide them, fight over anyone who cheats.  There is always someone with one eye open when the eggs are being hidden (you know who you are). Cheaters never win!

 I learned to appreciate all of these traditions my parents gave us. I intend to pass them along to any children I might have in the future. But in the meantime I share all of my ideas with my fabulous Litzky Ladies. My creative coworker Laura and I are the presidents of the Party Planning Committee. You might have heard of us before, we are also known as the PPC!

Together we take on holidays, birthdays, any event where we can eat bad things and of course an office favorite, The Heritage Potluck Lunch.  Last year we started a new tradition. LPR’s Easter Eggstravaganza! And yes, it is as fun as it sounds. Last year our lovely boss, Michele foot the bill for some pretty nifty prizes to be hidden inside the eggs. Starbucks, Dunkin Donuts and a gift card to Bliss Spa were some of the treats a few lucky LPR employees walked away with that day. The hunt, or so I’ll call it, certainly lived up to its name.   A group of 15 or so ladies standing in a break room waiting to hear ready, set, go! The pregnant duo got a few seconds head start. This however did not matter. Litzky Ladies are just that, ladies, but when it’s time to play we play hard. One coworker who shall remain nameless had her eye on the prize the whole time. Unfortunately, this meant her eyes were not on the moms to be.  I felt as if I was watching Rocky IV when Apollo was taken down by Ivan Drago and pranced around the ring knowing full well his opponent was not getting up.

LPR employee Easter Eggstravaganza 1.0  during ‘the hunt’

OK-maybe it wasn’t JUST like this. But it had the makings of a Stallone flick for sure.  Once the search was over and everyone brushed themselves off it was time to indulge in some candy, and boy do we love our candy!

LPR Easter Eggstravaganza 1.0

We are one week away from LPR’s Easter Eggstravaganza 2.0. The PPC will be picking up all the goodies needed to make the day just as crazy as it was last year. This year however there will be no head starts. I’m thinking helmets and chest guards might have to be worn. We are Litzky Ladies, after all. Safety First!

Required uniform LPR Easter Eggstravaganza 2.0

Last month I successfully completed two major events: Toy Fair 2010 and Hipster Speed Dating. I don’t know what my life is about either, it’s OK. And even though they seem completely different, separated by rivers and valleys of flannel and plush, their DNA is bizarrely similar and you can easily move your mindset from the one to the other.

• There are no excuses. Play like a champion

If, like me, you strive for equal parts praise and glory, both Toy Fair and speed dating are physically and mentally taxing. I’m in it for the kill, but you mean I have to be charming, intelligent, entertaining, and look put together? The whole time?! So this is what it’s like living in a Jane Austen novel, except there’s less tea. The fact that Toy Fair itself lasts six days (the Litzky Ladies who work with Hasbro, including myself, were at their Hasbro Showroom from February 11th-16th) may make it seem much more intense than a couple of minutes chatting with a stranger. But trust me, when you’re trapped in a booth next to a bike messenger sporting a handlebar mustache (hellooo, we were in Brooklyn), 12 three minute “dates” drip away like molasses being poured from a tall building. In slow motion.

• Freakish name-remembers, we embrace thee!

I know that some people have a terrible time recalling people’s names. It’s fine, it happens. Luckily, although I cannot play the piano and have incredibly poor math skills, I rock at the name game, especially in social situations. During speed dating, when a flock of men move around your barstool as if on a human conveyor belt, there is always at least one moment where the person you’re currently speaking to will look at your index card and ask you if you’re going to write their name down on it. Why do people feel it’s necessary to make an already uncomfortable situation more uncomfortable? To avoid additional awkwardness, I tapped into my only super hero ability and filed all of the gentlemen’s names away in my mind. My index card stayed blank until the very end of the night where I could mark it up in private and if anyone asked during our meeting, I told them I was indeed, incredible, and remembered everyone’s name. What a catch!

At the Hasbro Showroom, and Toy Fair in general, the amount of introductions made are numerous. There are the toy demonstrators, toy doctors, brand teams, members of other PR agencies, editors and reporters, the lovely ladies at the front desk who basically run check-in and are gods, and anyone else you may just happen to tour around the Showroom, including analysts, collector fans, and b-roll crews, to name a few. You don’t want to be that publicist who ends her tour with a “It was so nice meeting you…Sir. I can’t wait to see your Toy Fair review run in, you know, there.” FAIL.

• Yes, you’ve looked a hot mess this whole time

So you bought new shirts and pants and shoes and baubles for Toy Fair because it’s a great excuse and also a necessity to look like that incredibly adorable, yet competent professional in the J.Crew catalogue. And you triple checked your makeup and maybe, weird, practiced the conversations you’d be having with people in the bar bathroom before getting comfortable at Hipster-fest 2010. That’s so cute. You think, “I look good. I feel good. I am a golden god!” SPOILER ALERT: You don’t. You’re not. Twenty bucks says your skirt is on backwards and the sinus medication you took that morning is making you slur your words. Just go with it.

• “Hi, I’m Marissa. I’m a publicist for Nerf and Super Soaker”

Is one of the greatest lines you can start a conversation with.

• “Sharing misery brings people together” - Andrew Mukamal, ’Kell on Earth’

The reason I attended Hipster Speed Dating in the first place was because one of my greatest friends persuaded me to join her and I thought it would be fun. Well, it was fun. At least, walking back to my girlfriend’s apartment, recounting the tales of each meaningful tattoo and pair of Converse we came across that night was fun.

And I personally feel as though our agency is never stronger or more connected than right after Toy Fair. It’s the culmination of months of intense work, outreach, and planning and we need to be able to rely on our own merits, as well as each other’s, to keep ourselves sane and our clients happy. Although difficult, Toy Fair 2010 was very rewarding and yes, even fun. At least, starting this year off with a load of incredible stories was.

Gather round, children, and we’ll tell you some on our Facebook page.

I don’t know if you’ve heard of Toy Fair, but for people like us in the children’s consumer and entertainment industry, it’s a big deal.

Imagine it. A place where toy exhibitors from around the globe come to New York City to showcase their exciting new lineups for the coming year. It’s a kid’s dream come true. Or, if you’re like me and are still a child at heart, it’s home.

When I started at LPR at the beginning of the year, the firm was just gearing up for the big event. So, for the past 2 months I have lived and breathed everything Toy Fair. With the amount of preparation and hype involved, it’s hard not to get wrapped up in the event’s enormity. Given this, you may be able to imagine the mixture of excitement and anxiety I felt knowing that I’d be working at such a huge event.

And trust me, Toy Fair is huge. With Hasbro in its own venue at the New York Times building, all other exhibitors take up residence in the lovely Javits Convention Center. Upon entering Javits, collecting my badge and passing through security, I entered the upstairs showroom and practically froze. Imagine a labyrinth, but not the ones from scary movies and thrillers. This labyrinth is brightly colored and full of toys and people just as excited about them as you are.

Eventually you get over the awe and hunker down to work. And, once you do, you realize that the anxiety you felt was for nothing. The people at Toy Fair are just that - people! You can talk with them and laugh with them, all while doing your job. So when it comes down to it, Toy Fair is a place to meet people, better acquaint yourself with your clients and spread any and all exciting news. After all, isn’t that what PR is all about?

When asked if I would write a blog post for LPR - my first thought was fear.  See, I am not one who is very comfortable writing about myself or my own personal feelings.  Want me to write about a magical rainbow where the My Little Ponies frolic - absolutely, that I can do, I’ve been doing it for seven years. But writing about myself, now that freaks me out.  Then I thought about what my subject would be, and all fear melted away: the joy of my life, my son Charlie.  As I am writing this, tears are actually welling up as I think about my perfect little man (I am SO that mom!!).

As we are approaching another LPR holiday season, I think back to last year at this time. I had just found out I was pregnant and trying so hard to hide it from my co-workers.  From wearing really baggy sweaters to faking sips of champagne, I thought I had everyone fooled - thinking back, I really did not.  As a matter of fact, at last year’s holiday party I got called out by a self-professed office detective and I just pretended like I had no idea what she was talking about.  I thought I had a clue what a whirlwind year I was in for, but really…I had no idea.

Once I finally came clean to the office after holiday break, the rest of the journey was a breeze.  Especially since Melissa was pregnant too and due one month after me!  How exciting to have someone right alongside me on this amazing, wonderful, scary trip!  The ladies of LPR were nothing but supportive and encouraging.  Sometimes I think some of them were looking forward to meeting my little man more than me (if that was even possible.)  I am not naming names, but you all know who you are

Now it’s a year later and I have never in my life been SO excited as every holiday approaches.  I mean even Rosh Hashanah held a special place in my heart as it was Charlie’s first family holiday.  But Christmas and Hanukkah, this is whole different beast.  I cannot wait to see the look on Charlie’s face when we light the tree or the first time he sees snow while in Vermont for Christmas.  Between grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins- this kid is going to be so spoiled. And rightfully so. He has no idea what he is in for, and I cannot wait.

So as we start to plan this year’s LPR holiday party I cannot help but look back on the most magical year of my life and everyone who has played a role in making it way. So, thank you.

Note: Charles Steven Bahniuk was born July 22, 2009.  He is currently 4 months old and venturing into the world of solid foods.

I’m a control freak.  There, I’ve said it.  I’ve owned it.  So much so that in 1987 when I needed some abdominal surgery as soon as the doctor said, ‘it will be just like a C-section,’ Ms. Control replied, ‘if that’s the case, let’s forget the general and use an epidural.’  Even as they were wheeling me in for surgery and the anesthesiologist tried to convince me otherwise, I held steady.  No lack of control for this girl.  I wanted to be able to hold a conversation while the surgeon  cut into my flesh.  (By the way, the epidural was great as was whatever medicinal cocktail they gave me to help me ‘relax’ (AKA coma).

Find me one public relations professional who is not a control freak to some degree.

We’re perfectionists, we are sticklers for detail, we don’t quit until the last i is dotted and the last t is crossed and we’ve gone back and checked it all again several times.

But here I am relinquishing control yet again — thankfully, not another surgery and fortunately we’ve already run our last big event for 2009.  This time the magic word is: vacation.  As I sit watching fall turn into winter with very few if any leaves on the trees outside my window, I know I’m heading someplace warm next week but I have no idea where — or for how long I will be away.  Anticipating some serious stress — what do I pack, will I have time for a pre-vacation pedicure — I’m finding myself enjoying the surprise and almost regretting that when I hit Newark Airport next week, unless I’m blindfolded, my destination will be revealed.

While I don’t think I’m a reformed control freak, I was definitely eager to relinquish the planning of our vacation to my guy.  He knows how I like to roll and I’m sure there’s a pina colada waiting on some beach with my name on it (my one vacation goal — see, there I go controlling — is to read Ted Kennedy’s biography).

I’ll miss a lot of the LPR holiday frivolity but am sure that the tropical breezes will more than make up for the merry, happy, jolly I won’t be sharing at 320 Sinatra.

I’ll be in town for our holiday soiree (thanks, Melissa for hosting this year) which is always one of my favorite times to say thank you to the incredible team of professionals that make LPR the unique boutique that it is.

Happy Holidays to one and all. 

Oh hello! It’s so great to see you. Remember me? No…hmm, well I used to blog. Yes, that Marissa Connelly! I know, it’s been so  long, mea culpa. (You look great, by the way. Are you hula hooping? Because I hear that’s all the rage right now).

It’s been busy, busy, here at Litzky. We’ve all successfully completed the transformation from human to elf. At 5’3 all I really had to do was wear more red velvet, but NO! There’s more to the process when you’re in product PR. See, there’s this little thing called  “the holiday season” and whenever you ask one of us what we’re working on, it most likely revolves around this theme: Holiday pitching, holiday gift guides, holiday clip reports, holiday updates, holiday meetings, and holiday ground tours.

Last Saturday, tired of reading about other people’s gift guides and ready to get my Kris Kringle on, I ventured  into New York City to do my own holiday shopping. I know, crazy notion! Except that it is because I am lazy and live in New Jersey and before last Saturday there was no weekend train running on the Montclair-Boonton line and I can’t drive into NYC because I will most definitely maim someone and sometimes the city makes me anxious and a germaphobe. The end.

And so, armed with hand sanitizer and one thousand printed out Google Maps highlighting my intended destinations (I get lost easily), I arrived at Newark-Penn Station with a plan and a dream.

I organized my day into hour-long increments because… I’m insane. Moving on! At 10am, I would arrive at The Container Store, at 11am I’d hit up Paper Presentation, and then at noon, visit the pop-up WIRED Store where the Nerf N-Strike Maverick blaster is currently on display, being fabulous.

The Container Store worked out pretty well. I bought a plethora of glass jars and plastic um, containers, because this year I’m getting crafty like Martha and making a bunch of Christmas gifts. And yes, you will all be victims. What’s that? You wanted a trip to Aruba? Well, here’s a candle. It smells like coconut. Close enough.

The only trouble I had at The Container Store, weirdly enough, was when I asked the saleswoman for an extra plastic bag to help me hold all the soon-to-be-filled-with-presents-nobody-wants-but-make-me-happy-anyway jars. She hesitated and instead of just giving me another bag said, “I promise they won’t break!” To which I replied, “No, I believe you (freak). It’s just that I’m running a lot of errands today and these are a bit heavy. They’ll be knocking about and it’ll just be easier for me to carry them all in two so can I double bag it to make sure?” [Insert awkward pause and momentary staring contest]. Saleswoman: “I guess. But they won’t break in there. I swear.” She waits, hoping. I crush her. Me: “Listen, if you’re not allowed to give me another bag because it’s store policy or something, that’s OK, just say that. But if you are, I want another one.” Snap in a Z formation and paaaaause. Saleswoman: “Here…Satan.” Me: “VICTORY!” And off to Paper Presentation me and my two Container Store bags went.

Now, if you have never been to Paper Presentation or Kate’s Paperie or any other holding ground of beautiful, crisp paper products, just go inside for five minutes and see if you don’t instantly say to yourself, “I should really write a letter to grandpa.” They just ooze  of correspondence, and scrap booking, wrapping presents, and ribbon - All things I love and which secure my status as a single lady or as I like to call it, Sasha Fierce (now put your hands up!).

I looked at my watch. It  was now 11:45. I had 15 minutes to hop an E train up to the Meatpacking District and get myself to the WIRED Store. Which, glancing at my Google Map, looked relatively easy. I can do this! Oh can you, Marissa? CAN YOU? Because, as we soon found out, once you rose from the subways like a container-carrying urchin, you got lost. For 45 minutes.

Not that it didn’t make for solid people watching. Through wisps of my now sweat-soaked hair, I was still able to embrace and enjoy all that is The Meatpacking District and its people. Ahem:

All the men look like zis:

And they date women like zis:

Who walk Martian dogs…like zis!

Mmm, visuals.

Finally, after pacing back and forth the same streets a few times, I found the WIRED Store. Sigh.

I walked through the doors to sounds of thumping synthesizer beats and discussions over the best new laptops. I was a little distracted by, oh I dunno, the giant silver car, bright white motorcycle, and chain of bikes hanging out right next to the entrance. But I couldn’t play just yet. I had a job to do and it involved the Nerf N-Strike Maverick blaster.

Ah, look at it. So fun and glorious. A WIRED magazine favorite in office wars, in fact. Like a proud parent, I smiled a bit too big when I saw it and snapped lots of photos. Afterwards, I took a stroll around the Store and acted like I knew how to use things with buttons and screens…before pulling out one of the Google Maps from my purse and figuring out how to get back home.

If you have the chance, I highly suggest you visit the WIRED Store. It’s filled with shiny, pretty things:

415 West 13th Street (between 9th & Washington)

New York, NY 10014

http://twitter.com/wired

http://www.wired.com/

Where has 2009 gone? As I look out my window at the magnificent view of the New York skyline (it’s too early in the day to tell what color the Empire State Building lights will be tonight), the trees are bare and the waterfront is settling into it’s winter mode. There is much to be thankful for this year.

When we closed out 2008, my goal was to finish 2009 with everyone in place. I am thankful that we were able to not only keep all of our rock star staff but to add a few new members to the team. And, as we roll into 2010, there will be a few more new additions to the staff. I look forward to getting to know each of them and watching them acclimate to their new work environment. We’ve welcomed some fabulous new clients to our roster and have lots more news to make on their behalf as the new year kicks in. And, we welcomed our first generation of Litzky little ones with the births of Charlie Bahniuk and Ben Winston. Watching the boys grow and change in the past few months has been joyous for all of us. And, I can’t forget our office mascot, Libby Welch, who has become a Tuesday/Thursday fixture in the office.

I am thankful for all that makes LPR so special — especially all of the Litzky Ladies who come to work every day with the dedication and enthusiasm it takes to get the job done. I could not be prouder of the work we do. So, as we gather around our holiday tables to give thanks to all of our blessings, I wanted to take a moment to say thank you to all of the talented, hardworking, creative and fun individuals who make everyday worthwhile.

Early last week an email was sent out to all the Litzky Ladies (and gentleman - there is one!) from our Party Planning Committee (or PPC, as they like to be called). The subject line was simple - “It’s that time again…” And my goodness, it is. Thanksgiving is days away, officially kicking off the Holiday Season (in my eyes anyway, I know there are those who have been humming Jingle Bells around the house for a couple weeks now). This is my first holiday season at Litzky, so I’m learning all about the fun traditions around the office - from stockings to funny hat pictures to Secret Santa goodies. As a lover of all things holiday cheer-y, I can’t wait to experience all of the shenanigans. The kick-off to our holiday festivities will be a Litzky tradition in the making, a Thanksgiving lunch-hour feast dubbed the Thanksgiving Heritage Potluck Lunch. I’m seriously excited about this for a few reasons. First, I love getting in on the ground floor, seeing something begin. In elementary school I was always the girl starting clubs that met at recess and I’m still the one in my group of friends planning the annual parties and outings. Being able to say I was there for the First Annual LPR Thanksgiving Heritage Potluck Lunch is exciting to me. Second, and I are sure most of you will agree with me on this, I’m a fan of food. I love cooking it and I love eating it. I especially love trying new recipes and tasting new dishes. A lunch that involves a little bit of calamari and a little Shepherd’s pie? Hello delicious potluck goodness! But what on Earth was I going to bring to the table? Stress level. Rising.

I pride myself on being a good cook. I don’t make fancy-pants gourmet dishes (usually) but I can make a meal that people will enjoy. I have a few go-to appetizer and entree recipes in my repertoire for occasions such as these where a crowd-pleasing dish is needed, but the key word here was ‘heritage’. My heritage is mostly Irish, with a side of Scotch and a sprinkle of German.  That delightful mushroom canapé recipe I stole from my Italian aunt by way of Southern-fried Paula Deen? Not the most Celtic of origins. I was stuck. I don’t like corned beef, or cabbage, or haggis. Truth be told, I haven’t tried haggis, but I’m going to go out on a limb and say no thank you, sheep’s heart and liver served in a stomach. Don’t spread this around, but I’m not even a huge fan of potatoes. ::Waits for the leprechauns to attack:: This left me with no choice but to Google search ‘Irish recipes’ and ‘Scottish recipes’ hoping against hope that I would find something A) scrumptious and B) do-able. After quickly disregarding “Scottish stuffed meatballs” as a hoax, I found a recipe for Beef in Guinness. Sounded yummy (beef, carrots, onions slow-cooked in some Guinness), simple enough (for someone with my advance culinary skills? Please!), and definitely appropriate (what’s more Irish than Guinness?!) - I had found my contribution. Sigh.

Now, I realize some of you may question why such a seemingly uncomplicated decision surrounding traditional fare took so much thought and energy. Allow me to explain: I graduated college last December. Any question that bears with it the undertone of “Who are you, really?” sends me into a mini existential crisis that can only be averted by a strong confident decision (I am Irish and I will cook meat in beer!). This is the first holiday season that I am officially a grown-up dealing with all of the stress and uncertainty and freedom and adventure that it entails. And while I’m still not entirely sure what and who and where I want to be when I grow up, I’m thankful for right now. I’m living in my second apartment, which is nicer and homier and grown-uppier than my first. I’m working in my first real job which is amazing and I love it to the point where my Uncle John doesn’t believe it is a real job because I’m too happy (this post is for you Uncle John). What is my heritage? Who am I, really? I’m me, now, and I’m thankful.

So tonight I will go home, find some Danny Boy on iTunes, and connect with my Irish heritage. Tomorrow I will share my heritage with the lovely and amazing people I work with here at Litzky, get a little taste of each of theirs and be overwhelmingly thankful. This Thanksgiving, my first post-college, I will learn a lesson not from a professor, but from the PPC: Be who you are, and share it with the world.
Be thankful.

Happy Thanksgiving from Litzky PR!

It’s been a while since I’ve posted anything.  But as I watch the seasons change outside my window I’m drawn to some of the changes that are happening inside at LPR.  I remember back in 2006 when we celebrated the marriages of four LPR employees (our fifth wanted a year all to herself and married in 2007).  This year, we recently celebrated the arrival of the first generation of LPR babies . . Charlie Bahniuk and Ben Winston joined us over the summer, much to everyone’s delight.  There’s something to be said about new beginnings and we all look forward to watching our two new superstars as they discover the world around them.  It reminds me to embrace change and growth.  Welcome Charlie and Ben to the LPR family.

There are some times when I feel like I’m in shape.
Perhaps I’ve just capped off a day of snacking on peanuts and perfectly cut apple slices with an hour long spin class and a glance in the mirror where there seems to be some sort of definition in my arm feigning resemblance to muscle.
And there are some times when I realize no. No, you are not fit. You are not healthy. Put the pie down.
Two weeks ago, I caught @FitnessMagazine holding a contest on Twitter: “First 40 people to RT this get to work out with celeb trainer Gunnar Peterson on 7/23 at a Top Secret Location in NYC.”
The game was afoot. I not only love anything “Top Secret,” but have only actually ever won two worthwhile things in my life. One was a huge roll of  tickets from an arcade when I was 12, which I then proceeded to cash in for an unnecessary number of stuffed animals and plastic, beaded jewelry. The other was a DVD player from my high school’s Project Graduation that travelled with me through four years of dorm room upgrades and summer moves back home. (I realized how pathetic this looked as soon as I finished typing “home”).
Considering this to be my next six year win, I furiously retweeted the message, along with several of my fellow Litzky Ladies. A DM from @FitnessMagazine popped up only a few minutes later:
“Congrats! You’re invited to a workout with Gunnar Peterson. DM us your email so we can give you the location and more.”
The six year streak continues!
I was glad to find out that not only did my friend Marissa (Yup, same name. We travel in packs) also win the invite, but so did Litzky Ladies, Elise and Jessica.
What I was not glad to find out once FITNESS Magazine emailed me was that the workout would be at 7:15 in the morning. Woof. Doing anything that requires stretchy pants and physical exertion before I can stomach a cup of coffee is risky. And with someone named Gunnar, no less. The name brings up images of fighter jets, one armed pull-ups, Ray Bans and doom. Gym doom.
That Thursday, we arrived at New York Health & Racquet Club on 23rd and apprehensively entered one of the private group class areas. Smiling FITNESS Magazine staff wearing blue polos emblazoned with the Silk soy milk logo (don’t worry, this will all make sense soon) directed us to yoga mats and weights before the class started. I was interested to see that while 40 people were invited to the workout, only about 15 ended up showing. Apparently they were more taken with the thought of morning stretchy pant-syndrome than I was, and though I’m sure it wasn’t the outcome the magazine aimed for, I must say I appreciated it. Had everyone shown up, I don’t think we could have moved around as comfortably as we did, nor get some nice one-on-one shout outs from Gunnar. I also really like not having people infringe upon my personal space. As in, “Hi, I just scraped the tender skin surrounding your ankle off when I lunged myself right onto your foot. Sorrrrrry!”
After a little introduction by Fitness Director, Mary Christ Anderson,  we met the man, the myth, the legend, Gunnar Peterson. First thing I noticed was he was wearing a blue Silk soy milk polo, similar to the ladies of FITNESS. I recognized a good sport and instantly decided to also be one during the entire workout. Which was a good thing, because had I not been in the proper “go get’um” state of mind, I would have surely crumbled onto the floor like a shaking pile of Jello on my third pushup.
Because it wasn’t just a pushup. The pushups Gunnar was making us do started with our hands resting on weights…which we were then asked to extend into the air…as we rotated our bodies sideways…and cried.
I quickly realized during the 30 minute workout that while I could hold my own among the group and wouldn’t completely embarrass myself that morning, the pain shooting through the back of my thighs was a sign. That I was not, as I had some times thought, in shape. I wasn’t out of shape (I own Danskin pants and know what the Plank Position is), but there’s a large middle ground somewhere between TLC specials and the Tour de France where I, and I’m sure many women, find themselves. Trying to catch their breath after a light jog.
After our workout, my legs and arms still shaking, we were handed a delightful Silk soy milk shake to sip on for a protein boost (See! Told you it would all make sense. I would never tease) while we got a chance to ask Gunnar a few questions,  hear his incredible impersonation of Russian trainer Pavel Tsatsouline, and giggle like schoolgirls every time he grinned and used the word “dude.” Or was that just me?
If you’re interested in punishing your body like some of the Litzky Ladies did two weeks ago, then by all means: Death by Gunnar. Although a week later, my muscles still felt like they were going to snap each time I bent down and I almost flung my body off the train one morning trying to walk down the stairs, my untapped muscles and I bonded during our FITNESS tweetup. And, more importantly, we saw firsthand the ultimate goal of engaging in social media in the first place: new friends! That’s right. As you can see below, we’re pretty tight with Gunnar now. No big deal.
Many thanks to the team at FITNESS Magazine for organizing a very fun and interesting get together via Twitter, and also to @OhMariana who sent word around to her tri-state rabbits about the contest.