Out & About #739 | Pacific Mall, Sum Pilates Session #7 Recap + LINE Friends Pop-Up

For the past two weekends, I had filled my body with lessons from Studio Bon. Yet, a total of four classes remained at Sum Pilates. With an unavailability of instructors, continuation of my package was delayed. The seventh session resumed on August 28th, preceded by a highly anticipated massage and realized with a new instructor.

I awoke to the familiar chime of my work alarm around 8:15 AM. The first five minutes had gone by unnoticed, but steadily, my senses began to depart from deep slumber. The weekend would start earlier than most, marking my foray onto the 401 before the 9:30 AM mark. Impressively enough, traffic levels had already begun to pick up for the day.

The early appointment led me to Scarborough, just a few blocks from the neighbourhood traversed for the sake of jokbal and juice. It proceeded as planned, with the exception of makeup application taking place in my driver's seat of the vehicle (behold the glitter dust!) rather than within the air-conditioned establishment. Despite full comprehension of the masking rule for indoor spaces, it hadn't occurred to me that makeup application would not be permitted within.

In the immediate vicinity were as many Chinese eateries and bubble tea outposts as one could possibly fathom. I yearned for none. Recalling an unredeemed Dak Lak stamp card, I opted to head northbound to Pacific Mall.
Once inside the parking garage, I quickly learned the status of the shopping centre's repairs. Both escalators and elevators had been reinstated, nixing the need for freight elevator rides and dust bunny-loaded alternate routes.

I sauntered upstairs to the food court, making quick strides past Tung Tung and their fragrant cloud of egg waffle essence. At seeing Dak Lak's dimmed storefront, my heart sank, utterly disappointed. My watch glimmered of a time past noon, which indicated they ought to be open. In consideration of time, I marched on to evaluate my options:

• Pan-fried dumplings? No, too heavy.
• Noodles in soup? No, broth is difficult to consume.
• Curry fish balls? No, it wasn't a meal.

Finding myself before the stall that was once named Nicola's, I took to the fourth item on their menu and proceeded to add lettuce (for an additional loonie) and chicken sausage (for an additional toonie). The Tortilla Flat emerged a ginormous portion that could easily serve two. I received the box on the other side of the counter with two hands, wondering how much I'd be able to deplete. The bag was taken back to the car, along with a complimentary Thai Milk Tea from Dak Lak. They had opened shortly after acquisition of lunch and the opportunity to redeem was not to be missed.

I settled back into the driver's seat. Within the plastic bag were napkins and, in place of disposable plastic utensils, a pair of disposable gloves. Puzzled, I placed them to the side as the contents of the Tortilla Flat were scrutinized, as carefully as one is able in the nonexistent illumination of a covered parking lot. Slipping the digits into one, I hesitantly retrieved one of the tortilla halves to commence consumption.

A distinct crunch took my taste buds by surprise. While the exterior was soft, crispy wafers had been included at its centre, lending a stark contrast in texture. The lettuce was roughly chopped, exhibiting moderate bits of red rustiness, and the chicken sausage had been sliced lengthwise and toasted lightly before compilation. Coating the insides of the tortilla was a thin sheet of scrambled egg, barely noticeable to the taste without prior observance of the preparation procedure, along with scallion, parsley bits, and an addicting sweet-savoury sauce.

​One half of the specimen had been sufficient for my purposes, yet the heat of the external world prompted continued ingestion of the remaining portion. Despite surpassing the brink of satiation, I persevered, eventually shoving down the rest of the tortilla to prevent wastage.

Immediately setting foot back into the mall, I traversed along the perimeter of the first floor to alleviate the fullness. Once the grids had been traversed, upstairs I went - this time to the arcade.
Cineplex Starburst occupied at rather low capacities - probably less than a sixth of The Rec Room on a busy day. The games entailed nonexistent lineups; as such, I quickly loaded 40 credits and commenced my rounds. On the Grand Piano Keys, I obtained the top three positions with, oddly enough, identical scores. Further familiarization was made with the classic DDR machine, and the 500 bonus was secured on the nine-hole skeeball.

By the 1:25 PM mark, I was Thornhill-bound on local roads. The relatively peaceful journey lasted just under thirty minutes, leaving just enough time for a swapping of attire.
My new instructor adopting an English name identical to that of SM's adored diva of the spunky quintet, with a short, two-toned hairstyle of equally spunky caliber.

In spite of my concerns over the building humidity of the outside world, the thermometer pointed to my forehead read 36 degrees - a satisfactory result. "You're fine!" she returned the thermometer to its rightful place behind the front desk, then gestured to the sizable pump bottle: "Please sanitize(ing)."

As with my first session, an assessment was conducted to determine areas of concern and mechanisms warranting attention. The process didn't reveal much new information; I had heard it all before, from the tilted pelvis to the rotated left knee to the possibility of scoliosis due to the indicator of back pain. "You have a flat back." I was told. "Usually people have an S-shape (to their back), but your back here is flat." And indeed it was. Between the shoulder blades was a gradual upward slope, likely due to ceaseless hours of work before my microscopic laptop and fixed-height monitor.

Maneuvering to the Cadillac, I was provided a lofty foam roller to assist with stretches to the shoulder and pectoral muscles. The movements had been discussed with me in previous pilates sessions, in addition to physio appointments. Shoulder mobility had admitted improved over the past few months, yet drawing a clean semi-circle remained tricky.

To stimulate the core muscles, the foam roller was shifted underneath oneself such it lay parallel to the body. Her directions were delivered with less clarity than my former instructor, though did not contain any fatal flaws. She was careful to add that English was "not her first language", understandably so, and that I could inquire further if the steps were unclear.
I was summoned into tabletop position while resting atop the foam roller. "Push your hands into the mat!" she urged, as the Cadillac frame began to quiver. Making an "imprint" with the pelvis to better stabilize oneself, I was commended on the ability to rapidly engage the core. "(She) taught you well!" came the gleeful reaction.

Previous classes had normally been accompanied by popular radio tracks, yet the playlist from above rang of K-Pop releases, both new and old. I resisted the tendency to move along to last year's Zumba tracks of Celebrity and Black Mamba, then expressed silent astonishment towards the Stray Kids' just-released title.

The class progressed at a pace quicker than I was accustomed. Before I had managed to stride over to the Reformer, the Box attachment had emerged. Sitting atop of it, I would position my feet on the headrest and cast my gaze up at the tower, specifically the third loop of the chain that dangled from the centre of the frame. Hands looped with the tension band and a foam yoga block positioned between the thighs, I would lean back and curl into a C-shape, tension placed on the core. To return to a neutral, I was instructed to roll up from the spine while maintaining core activation.
Separate exercises were conducted for the back and triceps. Interestingly, the toughest part was keeping the chin lifted, such that the gaze would be affixed to the chain.

With two tension rods attached the Reformer bed, the Box was placed above the hand loops. I sat facing away from the tower, in the direction of the foot rest. This time, I was drag the bed close to my body strictly by hamstring strength. The knees would remain fixed, with great efforts made to prevent my socks from slipping on the curved portion of the headrest.
Back in the standard Box position, flyouts and shoulder lifts were conducted with the hands threaded through the tension wraps.

For the final set of exercises, I was shown a plank variation I hadn't known to exist in pilates. The instructor demonstrated alignment of the limbs first: Hands were clasped, shoulders were aligned with the elbows, one thigh in contact with the Reformer Box, and the other leg bent with the toes curled over the foot rest. The exercise prompted engagement of the entire body: With the outstretched leg straightening and bending to resist tension, the plank position prompted core stabilization, while the neck was to remain long and the upper back curved in a convex fashion. One's gaze to remain slightly higher than eye level, at an unnamed black connector by the base of the tower. While minimal in repetitions, the exercise was undeniably the most challenging given the control required from top to bottom.

​Stretching at the conclusion of the class was minimal. Beyond an elevated Child's Pose and all-too-familiar tension release stretches for the next, sides of the upper body were not attended to.
​
The class ended approximately three minutes earlier than scheduled, with my next (last??) three classes slotted in for several successive Saturdays.

In review of 401 congestion levels on my return route, I opted for the comparatively appealing detour to Yorkdale. While the southbound stretch on Yonge was as atrocious as the dark red course on Google Maps, exiting at Allen Road was a seamless process.

Luck had sided with me, for I had found parking almost immediately. The bathroom line dissipated quickly, as did the coiling formation about the former innisfree store. Within ten minutes, I was inside the LINE Friends pop-up.

Approximately 65% of the store had been allocated to BT21 merchandise, while the rest of comprised of the original lineup. The assortment varied between small plushies, medium cushions, epoxy stickers, charms and keychains, pouches, and stationery such as pens, memo pads, and notebooks. Majority of the products were priced steeply, with a limited variety of styles and hues for purchase.

A soft Choco hair elastic had initially made its way into my basket, only to be removed later onwards given its $13 price tag. Four epoxy stickers priced at $5.50 each, an Earth Day-themed memo pad priced at $5.00, and a souvenir for orangecane rapidly totalled over fifty dollars. Having been sold out in the store from my New York travels, a terry cloth Brown headband could not be exempted from the trip

I made my departure from the pop-up shop some thirty minutes and seventy-ish dollars later, then ventured into UNIQLO for a second pair of pilates leggings.
Satiation persisted, thus I conducted a brisk walk about the mall, dodging masked and partially masked (drinking) shoppers along the way. Perspiration droplets were exaggerated via insulation, leading to the purchase of a Venti Kiwi Starfruit Starbucks Refreshers.

By the 5 PM mark, traffic volumes had calmed. I was then to prepare for the final portion of the excursion.