Wanderlust Festival

wan·der·lust
ˈwändərˌləst/
noun
a strong desire to travel.
“a man consumed by wanderlust”

On Saturday, September 13, Jess and I packed up our yoga mats and headed out to board a train to Brooklyn’s Wanderlust Festival.

Wanderlust 108 is a mindful triathlon, combining a 5k run, an inspirational meditation, and a massive outdoor yoga class.
Gather your friends for a day of live music, mindful movement, healthy food, retro yard games and a few surprises.

– See more at: http://brooklyn.wanderlustfestival.com/about-wanderlust-108#sthash.ekzRxGIv.dpuf

Tickets ranged from FREE if you skipped the 5k and the gift bag to $40 to have the full experience to $80 if you forgot to sign up when you were supposed to… like I did. Yep, I waited until the last minute again so I signed up for a free ticket the night before and figured I could still enjoy my day in Brooklyn.

The morning of did not start out as intended as I realized, while passing our stop, that we passed our stop. Deep yogi breath, please. Grant me the serenity to not go ham on a stranger. One hour out of our way later and we stepped into a new world, one with brownstones and trees lining the streets- Toto, we weren’t in the south shore of Long Island anymore. Follow the yellow brick road, just kidding, follow the lulu lemon gear.

When we arrived at the pearly black gates of prospect park we were amazed to find that Brooklyn is actually much nicer than we anticipated. People from Long Island rarely go OTB (over the bridge) so it was a nice change of scenery. Though I had my sneakers in my backpack I figured I would skip the run and wander around the shops by myself until Jess was done. She would have none of that…Needless to say I found myself running next to Jess for the 5k. Can’t keep me down!

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Though she’s not a runner herself she’s a bikram regular and a yoga instructor- girls got strength both mentally and physically. Though she says she felt muscles she never feels in yoga and that she was sore, I don’t buy it. She rocked the run and then we meandered around yuppies, and puppies, and people dancing with hoola hoops for a few hours.

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The best thing about festivals… Ok, maybe not for you, but I love free stuff. I can’t help it- you are going to give me headphones that say Kashi on the side of them, I’m going to take it. You want me to try your new flavor of Zico , fine. You want me to eat you densely packed protein Greek frozen yogurt, no prob, bob. I will take this off of your hands. We even waited in line for over one hour for a free yoga towel for your mat from Manduka. All we had to do was SMILE:

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And lose an hour of our lives… But that’s neither here nor there.

Then the time came for yoga. And the sky opened up. A light drizzle. Continued light drizzle. Slipping on my mat. A densely packed drizzle… Now it’s just rain. And we continued to practice.

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A new bucket list item: practice yoga in the rain. Check. And yes it was a nice life experience, especially dancing in the rain afterwards, but let’s not be cutesy for a second- it was cold! The park cleared out faster than a college party after they kick the keg. Back to the train… This time the right one.

As we headed home, shivering, we were smiling and exhausted. It was a great day. Making your practice, whether it’s running, yoga, whatever, a part of your social life makes it an even better experience. Find something that brings you joy in life and figure out how to never stop loving it.

Love Thighself

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Muahaha. My cousin posted this online and I couldn’t help but to put it on here. Wouldn’t it be amazing if diddly squats worked half as well as full squats, body weight squats, jump squats, and many other evil squat variations that exist in the world, a la here. I would do diddly squats all the damn time. But it just doesn’t work like that, now does it?!

This post comes at an interesting time considering last night I dreamt that I had liposuction on my knees… Then woke up and I didn’t… Disappointed. But whatever. One conversation I have very frequently with my female friends goes something like this- I don’t look like I did in my early twenties. And I wish I appreciated it then. I said something like this because the conversation can never truly be replicated due to its vapid nature, but you get the point. We are always so focused on what was, rather than what is. AND to make matters worse, we never appreciate what we got ’till it’s gone. I have a few theories as to why, but for years I have been trying to praise myself for what I can do instead of remembering what I never had to do (except munch on some bagels every day for breakfast and eat fries every day for lunch) to have a size four frame that no longer exists. Those were the days.

Now that I know the truth, that I will only truly appreciate my skin, hair, figure, until years after I regularly bashed it, I need to make it my mission (and maybe you should to?) to shut the you know what up. And make a promise with myself to appreciate things like the gentle lines developing around my eyes, or as john calls them , my happiness lines. Thanks, babe. You must be super happy. Because getting older is the inevitable, and as my mom says, it’s much better than the alternative. If you can’t figure out the alternative it means being dead. I’ll pass. I’ll get older. So here’s to getting older and eating better and working a little bit harder. And here’s to being able to say that at 2 months shy of 27, I am in such better shape than I ever was at 22, 18, 16, and every age in between.