So I started this post in December when I started my new job and then I promptly forgot about it until now.
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| photo courtesy of CrossFit Hell's Kitchen |
Relay has campuses across the United States, but the home office is in New York. I feel really fortunate that they found me such a strong candidate for the role that I get to work remotely with regular travel to New York. I flew up Monday morning (after driving back from Tampa on Sunday, ugh) and stayed through Friday. I got to drop in at CrossFit Hell's Kitchen for a debilitating workout - 50 front squats at 50% back squat 1 RM, followed by 5 rounds of 20 wallballs, 10 hang snatches, and 10 chest to bar pull-ups. I was walking funny all week.
As thrilled as I always am to make it to CFHK, I was nervous to come back to New York.
I was nervous that I'd come back to New York and use my new job as an excuse to move back. I was pretty sure I really loved living in Atlanta, but it's hard moving somewhere, making all new friends, being hundreds of miles away from your nearest family member, and leaving the only company you've ever really worked for. When I came up in December, I kind of entertained the idea of moving back to NYC, getting to go to CFHK all the time, and seeing my parents every other weekend because I am a helicopter child. And then I snapped out of it. I dislike New York. Frank hates Manhattan. We'd end up living at my parents' house and I'd have to change the title of my memoir to Alone with Dogs. (Type alone with cats in the search bar at the top of my blog.)
I was nervous that I'd come back to New York and use my new job as an excuse to move back. I was pretty sure I really loved living in Atlanta, but it's hard moving somewhere, making all new friends, being hundreds of miles away from your nearest family member, and leaving the only company you've ever really worked for. When I came up in December, I kind of entertained the idea of moving back to NYC, getting to go to CFHK all the time, and seeing my parents every other weekend because I am a helicopter child. And then I snapped out of it. I dislike New York. Frank hates Manhattan. We'd end up living at my parents' house and I'd have to change the title of my memoir to Alone with Dogs. (Type alone with cats in the search bar at the top of my blog.)



















