We here in Brooklyn are celebrating birthday number TWO. The theme was The Wackiest Outfit (abbreviate it. get it?! Sierra gets credit for this one) How did you express the wackiest? To what extent of wacky did you get when you showed up 6:28AM at Fort Greene Park? To what extent of wacky can you get when you show up for…anything? read more
Translation, the purposeful selection of words to convey meaning.
Recently we were asked to describe November Project in one word. One. Single. Word. We couldn’t lean on our handy catchphrases. You know, the hashtags that we may gloss over because we see them so often, because they melt in our way of life at November Project. Describing November Project in one word meant sifting through our individual experience of the workouts, sunrises, whatevers. And then purposefully deciding which word in our lexicon could encapsulate all of that. Essentially, we translated.read more
This morning, we spun-off on the board-game Clue. The big mystery of the morning was that someone (suspect) at some November Project workout (destination) had somehow (gear) left a huge sweat stain. Outrageous (!)…we know. We absolutely had to get to the bottom of this sweaty mystery!
Dun Dun DUN!!
So we started at the very bottom of the stairs, at 6:28AM. Everyone got a detective notepad with clues–potential suspects, destinations, and gear. These clues were NP classics, if you will. Suspects included the NP co-founders, the very first Brooklyn tribe co-leader. Destinations included breakfast club, the North Face store, the whole wide world (#worldtakeover). Gear included Brooklyn’s peer-to-peer award, the NP book (#printmedialives), the buff. Basically, the elements that make up this free fitness movement.read more
Running? Cheering? Coming in early? Staying a little longer? Here’s the scoop on the events going on for the NYC Marathon. Brought to you by the combined forces of the tribes of NYC and Brooklyn (because #bettertogether)
Saturday, 11/03 Poster Party 3:00PM, Highline & 30th Put your creativity and wit onto paper.
Sunday, 11/04 THE BIG RACE all through the five boroughs of New York flippin’ City. If you’re racing, add yourself to this spreadsheet so we can cheer our faces off for you.read more
Terrified? Yes, that seems to be the appropriate word. In my case anyway, as I listened to my tribe co-leader start describing the next recipient selected for the November Project Positivity Award and slowly but surely, realize you ARE IT ! Whoa, rewind that for me again? You see, the PA and I have a past history. Not a pretty one by my account and I hope to have the dubious distinction of being the only having dropped it during the traditional “toss” way back with the NYC tribe. Since then I have been filled with anxiety about the possibility of this same moment with my BK tribe. To the point that I even hinted that it was totally OK not to be considered. So despite the significance of what it represents and what it bestows upon oneself, I have been more than content to see a fellow NPer receive it and serve as a constant reminder of the amazing qualities of those around me.
I see examples of generosity, kindness, resilience, and strength just to mention a few. I was not born with any of these traits, at least not in any full extent, so I can only assume that if I am perceived to demonstrate any of them, it must be from observing others and emulating them as best as I can.
Growing up in Brazil where the Chinese community was almost non-existent, and to parents working a laundry and restaurant business, one learns self-reliance and independence rather quickly. This gets reinforced when you suddenly move to NYC’s Chinatown with very little knowledge of Chinese and you get to see only one of your parents at a time for a few months while the other travels back to run the family business. Eventually moving to Brooklyn, my high school years were unremarkable and often filled with a sense of isolation. I pretty much graduated with complete strangers. College was just an attempt to create bonds with limited success while preparing to find a job. The prospect of leaving my family for a job in Texas after college was terrifying (there goes that word again). As luck would have it, I was able to find employment in NJ. The long and costly commute and an 8 hour drive back home during a winter storm made a move closer to work a logical one. At least I could have weekends spent at home or the few college friends I managed to keep in contact with. The pursuit of a graduate degree and dating life eventually brought me back home. Life settled into a long commute again which I learned to accept as a small sacrifice. Marriage to a wonderful woman and eventual birth of my son Richard seemed to shape my plans and occupy my time and thoughts. As an engineer, I always had confidence in my ability to figure things out. Planning is 80 percent, execution 20 I would tell myself. That approach seemed to work until one day you are diagnosed with a brain tumor. I can still recall the terrifying (here we go again) numbness as I looked down at my son barely 2 months old before we rushed to the hospital ER, wondering what his life would be without me in it.
Well, you can well guess the outcome of that chapter as you are still reading this. Although benign, the removal of what turned out to be a golf sized mass caused a total hearing loss and facial nerve damage on the left side. More on that last bit later. And yes, let’s add a ringing 24/7 for good measure (this is for those who often ask how much I sleep). Despair, anger, and depression became my constant yet silent companions. So much so, a co-worker playfully nicknamed me “crabby”.
There were days when I questioned my purpose and existence and whether I had the courage to leave all I dearly cherished behind. It was during one of those moments which I can only describe as hitting rock bottom, I was taken back to that same instance as I left for the hospital years before. That same fear not only saved me, but instilled within me a new purpose. To be here rather than not and make a difference no matter how small it may be. Years of complacency resulted in a weight gain that I accepted as a cost of “Life getting in the way of living”, as I usually like to say. It took a while, but eventually I made the fateful decision to do something about it as well. A dusty treadmill came to life again. The anger was now harnessed into a furious and relentless pursuit which involved ungodly hours and endless weekends. As luck would have it, the treadmill stopped working. Doing a yearly 4M charity run, left me somewhat comfortable with giving outdoor running a try. Then shortly after, while doing the 5K Sandy charity sponsored by NYRR, I noticed the volunteering opportunities for the NYC Marathon while browsing the website site. Having coming out to watch it once, it had always sparked my interest. Working at the start, I felt a sense of purpose while helping runners in any way I could, even with the simple act of handing small bottles of water out.
I was hooked. Long story short, volunteering has become a huge part of my life now. Whether it is about the giving back or just the paying forward, I have come to believe that the odds of making a difference in someone’s experience can only get better with how often I do so. That fateful decision also eventually led me to my NP family. That first stint at the marathon kept bringing me back to race events. I just could not get enough. That first year would find me at almost all NYRR events, so often I was constantly asked whether I worked for them. As it goes, my so called baking hobby simply resulted out of a necessity for having something else besides the same donuts at race events, but now it’s just my attempt to make a difference. Even with the simple act of baking treats. It pretty much started when I decided to bake a batch of scones while volunteering for the Bronx 10M on my birthday, a day made more memorable while helping make a marriage proposal happen at the finish. As I mentioned before, the odds do get better. It was during this time that I started to notice these runners who oddly enough, spray painted something across their shirts.
My involvement with the NYRR Open Run program inevitably led to an introduction to Paul Leak, Don and Esther E. who often wore the same tags. After a short inquiry, I somehow managed to convince myself to showup to a Friday workout at Prospect Park. On my way home, I wondered whether I could find the courage to do it again. I decided to give it one more try. Besides, the shirts do look cool I told myself. The next bounce became another, and then another. That first tag led to the next, and now to the point that my tagged items outnumber all others. Tag everything I often say. Well, at least most.
I could wonder what life would be like or in a particular case not, based on my choices, but why bother I tell myself. Such decisions terrifying or not, have led me to this place in time, and to those who I consider to be points in the compass of my life. Guiding and constantly correcting my course. Whether by baking treats, cheering, or simply being there during a bounce (hopefully in a costume or prop), I have been graciously allowed to be a small part of their lives. I learned to make the most of every day, even the bad ones knowing that a smile followed by a hug, sweaty or not, will eventually be waiting to greet me regardless of time and place. As a reminder to myself of that silver lining, I often joke that not feeling the left side of my face can come very handy in a fight, except with a southpaw. Luckily for me, the overall odds are still in my favor. I stopped wondering or fearing what life would be without me and just try to live as best as I know how and those you are with. I’m just grateful that mine is filled with such amazing humans whose qualities I continue to aspire, and who bring so much into my existence. Whatever happens, I am glad I decided to be here and glad you are as well.
That’s what she says to Rachel. Because Rachel may look like her, but she’s far from it. Rachel may look Asian, but she’s Asian American. It’s not just a nuance or one extra word. It’s a distinction that casts Rachel off as not worthy, not good enough. That’s how some of us grew up.read more
Ahh Jeanie’s retirement post. There’s a lot to be said about someone who leads a November Project tribe, much less two. Four score and twenty sunrises ago, when Jeanie was but a November Project toddler, she already embodied so much of what defines this grassroots movement. She showed up, for herself and others. She shows up so much, that it’s hard to even pinpoint a favorite workout with her. “Anytime Jeanie rolls up next to you with her fanny pack boombox, it’s going to be a great workout.”
“Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down, never gonna run around and desert you” she croons to her fanny-pack
[We interrupt this blog post to dedicate an entire blurb to Jeanie’s fanny-pack speakers. They’re pretty much inseparable, soul mates if you will. The peanut butter to the jelly, the fuck to the yeah. Jeanie will rock out while running next to you, like she did with Joe Fox at a Madison Sq Park workout. She will blast Janet Jackson while running bridge repeats, right Joellen? If you find her on the subway heading to a workout, she’s jamming to music ALL.THE.TIME.]
If you see Jeanie w/o her fanny-pack speakers, SOMETHING IS WRONG, VERY VERY WRONG.
Anddddddd back to our featured program–with her unresolved dedication and infectiously fun nature, it made absolute sense when she was announced as the third co-leader of New York City. She added a new level of spice to the concrete jungle. Fierce and silly could be a thing, and Jeanie brought out the best of that.
New York’s leading lady, BOOM.
The tribe’s vibe was definitely better with Jeanie leading alongside John & Paul. What if we spread this goodness into more of New York though? What if…Brooklyn? And who better to start this up than Jeanie? So off she went to sprinkle the November Project seeds at Brooklyn’s Fort Greene Park. It was winter. It was cold/snowy/slippery/icy/weather-y, but that didn’t matter. Jeanie, and now Sierra, a fellow badass cancer survivor, were determined to just show up. They showed up every damn week to cultivate and give life to the thing that has blossomed to November Project Brooklyn.
And a tribe is born in Brooklyn.
Jeanie has this uncanny ability to make YOU as an individual feel comfortable. She knocks down those invisible social walls that make people awkward/scared/self-conscious. She’ll bust out dance moves. She’ll clown around (did she inherit it from Papa Tinnelly?). She’ll grab an unsuspecting Chinese lady by the hand to join the workout. She’ll notice you, yes you. She’ll call out your name as you race past even if you’ve been to the workout just one time. She’ll ask you about your life outside of November Project. She’ll run next to you, at your pace. In a city as populated as ours, it’s easy to get lost, feel lost. Jeanie will find you, and then instantly make you feel that you belong.
It’s no wonder so many people love Jeanie, with how she makes us each feel.
It is hard for us as a tribe to describe what Jeanie embodies in one word. “Fanny-pack speaker” is technically three words, peeps. It don’t count. Here are the words that we do use for our co-leader. Jeanie is brave. She is fierce. Exuberant. She is genuine. And phenomenal, yes. Jeanie is unstoppable. She is a superstar. And supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. She is heart. She is strong, no doubt. Jeanie is 80s. And Beyonce. She is also fandabidoozy (Joon, we don’t speak British English, what in the queen’s name does this mean?).
Jeanie has as many freckles as she does good traits.
Jeanie, from you, we have learned to put ourselves out there for the rest of the world to see, to be vulnerable. You’ve taught us that we are never too old, nor too young to try something. You have shown us how impactful it is to support each other. How community pushes us to grasp our goals, to redefine what we are capable of. This community makes it worth taking two trains, waking up before the crack of dawn, and just showing up.
I showed up to my first November Project workout, and almost left right away. I was ten minutes late. Everyone was already split into groups and taking off. I couldn’t figure out a safe spot to put my bag, much less who to workout with. A bunch of what-ifs and a wave of social anxiety flooded my head. I was terrified, maybe showing up was a bad idea.
WHAT THE EF IS GOING ON? WHAT IS EVERYONE DOING?!
“Do you want to join my group?” Winnie Lok noticed me being all awkward and lost. She motioned me over, and in less than a minute, I met a Gaurav, Tammy, Terri, Nick, Marc, and Vader. And in that first workout, I already had people cheering for me as I timidly did suicide sprints. At the very end, when the tribe called out the birthday peeps, I watched in absolute awe as Jeanie Tinnelly danced her butt off in front of everyone. She was unapologetic and bold, and geez I could never do that. I was too shy.
NBD, just busting a move in front of 100 people, whatevs.
I grew up shy. People find that hard to believe sometimes. But it’s true. If I got bad grades in school, it was mostly due to lack of participation. I didn’t know what to say, was afraid of this and that. It led to a lot of spectating and not a whole lot of participating. After that first November Project workout, I left on such a high. I had to go back, even if it meant forcing myself through my own social barriers. I clung onto Winnie Lok like a barnacle, latched on for dear life. She was the only person that recognized me, she was my only friend at November Project. After workouts, I never lingered. I hustled to work and prayed that the streetlights would be green. I dreaded having to stop on street corners for red lights, because that meant people could see how awkward and friendless I was.
Don’t ever leave me, Winnie.
Three months into my foray with this free fitness movement, I was early to a workout. There was already a group of neon-clad humans gathered at the park. What if I had no one to talk to? So I walked around the block by myself until it was absolutely and exactly time to start. That’s how it had been–you’d never find me at the workout earlier than 6:28AM. That same morning, I felt kinda sad, thinking about how long I had been showing but still not having a whole lot of friends. That same morning, April Cargill said I looked familiar and asked if I was part of a particular run group. That same morning, Darshan Rangnath asked, “Hey, you’re Maggie right?” John Honerkamp, former co-leader of NP NYC, sent me a Facebook friend request (note, he has 3028501 friends on this platform alone). Let me repeat that, the person who oversaw the entire mass of a tribe, sent ME a friend request.
This stuff seems trivial. How much effort went into John clicking the “Add Friend” button? Or Darshan asking to confirm my name? Or Winnie inviting me to her group at my very first workout? It got me to stay, to keep showing up, to participate instead of spectate. It made a world of a difference. The simple act of recognition has such a profound echo. This is especially true when you live in a big city or have a big tribe. It can be overwhelming and intimidating to be around so many people. What happens when someone cheers your name as you haul ass on PR day? Or when your tribe makes a cheer tunnel for you? Or when the co-leader asks you to start up the bounce? My heart tingles. I smile like a goof. And then I shake a little bit because let’s face it, homegirl’s still a bit shy.
Middle-school dance moves also facilitate phenomenal friendships.
These seemingly-small interactions make a great impact, they do. These interactions provide individuals with an opportunity to illuminate. Find a newbie, a traverbaler, someone you kinda sorta know, your dad. Tag them on the Facebook photos, tell them exactly where breakfast club is, compliment their left nostril but not the right because it’s full of boogers, remember their name.
“If I cannot do great things, I can do small things in a great way.” -Martin Luther King Jr.
