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It’s 9:05 a.m. in a dingy gym in Midwood, Brooklyn, and I’m staring up at a slew of long resistance bands dangling from the ceiling; each cord has two handles, one high and one low, and in front of me is a body-size punching bag atop a black tire. That same apparatus is multiplied across the floor, and as lean women of all ages start to trickle in, complaining about the Brooklyn-bound delays on the subway from Manhattan, I notice the pile of mini trampolines and medicine balls—wait, drumsticks?—in the back left corner of the room. Just as I contemplate making a quick escape, the fit older woman to my right moves my hands from my bungee’s lower bar to the higher, harder option and straps me in. “Make sure it’s tight,” she says, as the lights go down and the bass starts up.
Welcome to Spiderbands, a novel body-sculpting workout (think: aerobics meets kickboxing meets trapeze . . . but on a personal jungle gym) that is moving from deep Brooklyn to Union Square in August. Custom designed by personal trainer and nutritionist Franci Cohen, in response to a lack of high-intensity, low-risk workouts on the market, the idea for Spiderbands came during an ab class, when she noticed a slew of bungee cords that were not properly stored away. “I was looking up at the rigs on the ceiling when it hit me—this could be a fun way to trick everyone into thinking they don’t have to work as hard,” she says of the suspended bands, which simultaneously offer resistance and assistance to limbs, like a personalized spotter.
Trick she did. For after a few intervals of jumping back and forth, left and right, side to side, punching and kicking and kneeling—all while your arms are strapped in and engaged the whole time, mind you—suddenly Cohen announces: “Now climb!” And like little Spideys, each woman leaned back on her bands and hopped to it, throwing her legs up, along, and around the black bag she was just punching. “I call it the bear hug,” Cohen says of the squeezing exercise that targets and connects the inner thighs and abdominal muscles all while utilizing the legs, the body’s largest muscle group, for back support.
It was all so extraordinary (and extraordinarily weird-looking), I couldn’t help but laugh. But I tried the kicking-jumping-flying-in-the-air cycle, and after a few failed attempts, I got my legs around that son of a bag and squeezed with all my might. I felt a momentary rush of adrenaline and relief, especially when I noticed everyone unstrapping their hands from the ceiling bands. But that high fell fast when I saw them moving the cords down toward their feet.
“You’re telling me that she wants our feet harnessed into these straps, which are suspended from the ceiling, while in downward dog position?” I ask my neighbor, who, at nearly 70, is kicking my ass in this class. “What if I lose my balance—will I just hang upside down?” But Cohen immediately caught wind of my fear and got behind me to spot me through the final circuit, which is meant to be good handstand training, she says. I gripped my hands to the red floor for all my life. She soon stepped away, and one by one, I managed to raise and lower my legs, which nearly buckled under the suspensions that wanted me vertical. The enhanced floor exercise engaged the tops of my thighs, arms, and core all at once, and proved that the buoyant bands were there to help just as much as hurt.
Ultimately, I didn’t hang upside down and the ceiling didn’t crash in. Instead, I felt a little tougher and a little taller and a lot more, well, sore—likely from awaking unknown muscles and, you know, feeling like I defied gravity and all. I mean, Spinning is Spinning and CrossFit is CrossFit, but Spiderbands is a whole other 50-minute, full-cardio ball game—and it’s coming to a New York City gym near you. Just don’t say I didn’t tell you to strap in.
Spiderbands, 12 East 14th Street, New York City, francicohen.com