I've lived in New York City for almost ten years now, and in that time, fitness has been one of the most consistent storylines in my life. Consistent in the sense that movement has always been there, even as everything else changed.
I've taken hundreds of classes across the city. Strength training, yoga, dance, pilates, boxing, running... almost every type of class you can think of. In basements, high rises, rooftops, and everything in between. And while each phase looked different, they all gave me something I needed.
Looking back now, I realize my own fitness journey mirrors the way the industry itself has evolved in New York.
When I first moved here, boutique fitness was built around identity. You found your studio, the place across the street from your building or on the way to your office, and that became part of who you were.
For me, it started with SoulCycle. AKA, the center of fitness culture in New York. That Monday morning drop was such a thrill and getting into the 6pm class felt like getting a reservation at the Corner Store today. Instructors built cult followings. People structured their schedules around their favorite classes. I remember on my 21st birthday dragging my best friends to a Soul class on the Upper West Side so I could blow out the candle.
What I learned then was that in a city as overwhelming as New York, there's comfort in belonging somewhere. Even when I was budgeting my entry-level salary to be able to even afford SoulCycle in the first place. I never questioned whether it was worth it.
Then I entered my Orangetheory era. This was a different kind of fitness experience entirely: performance-driven, measurable, structured. I had the unlimited membership and went all in. It was the first time I really felt strong.
That was a major shift for me: fitness stopped being about looking a certain way and started becoming about building something deeper.
Then came hot yoga. And if strength training taught me how to push harder, yoga taught me how to slow down. It became an essential counterbalance to everything else in my life. Less about output, more about presence. At a certain point, it became clear that my relationship to movement wasn't just physical anymore. It had become one of the most important tools I had for maintaining my mental health.
That's something I think the industry has shifted toward as well. Ten years ago, the conversation around fitness was largely about results: burning calories, building muscle, transforming your body. And it still is, to some degree. But today, people are much more honest about what movement gives them beyond that: stress relief, emotional regulation, confidence, and community.
Somewhere in between all of that, there was dance. I found 305 Fitness at a time when I needed to reconnect with joy. It was chaotic, unapologetic, and brought me back to my formative years of being in dance class since age 3. But this time, there were no strict teachers, no metrics, no splits, no weights to track. Just music, energy, and permission to take up space.
And then, like many New Yorkers, I found running. Although sometimes it feels like this one was a little against my will. When I moved to Brooklyn in 2022, I started taking it seriously. Since then, I've run three half marathons and I'm hoping to run the full marathon this year (if anyone has a waitlist spot, send it my way).
Running introduced something different into my routine: autonomy. Unlike studio fitness, where community is built into the experience, running strips it all back. It's just you, your thoughts, and the miles. And the occasional podcast. That taught me discipline in a completely different way.
What stands out most to me now is how each workout gave me access to a different version of myself:
Strength gave me confidence. Yoga gave me stillness. Running gave me discipline. Dance gave me self-expression.
Even the social side of it shaped me. I went from being too shy to talk to instructors to building real relationships with coaches and communities. I even had my first fitness crush on a trainer which feels like a rite of passage.
What changed over time wasn't the importance of fitness in New York, it was the way people approached it. The old model was built on loyalty: one studio, one method, one community. You found your place, committed to it, and it became part of your identity.
Today, that model looks different.
People are more intentional and expansive in how they train. We strength train and do yoga. We run and recover. We box and stretch. We aren't looking for one modality to do everything anymore because we understand that different forms of movement serve different purposes.
This realization is a big part of what inspired us to build Arcana.
Because after ten years of moving through New York, the biggest thing I've learned is that fitness here has never really been about the workout itself, it's about what the workout gives you.
The studios will change. The trends always will. But New Yorkers will keep moving.
And maybe that's the constant: in a city built on ambition, movement has become one of the ways people keep it real. With our goals, with each other, and with ourselves.