Stair Wars
When the Vessel reopened in October 2024 following a string of suicides, access to its pinnacle was permanently sealed off. Annoyed tourists also complained about safety netting installed to deter jumping; evidently, the reticulated mesh spoiled views of the Hudson River, City Pickle courts, and an Aritzia boutique. But something even more exercising waited for me on the penultimate level: resistance training.
The Vessel Run is an Equinox-branded, fifty-seven-dollar high-intensity interval training class set in Thomas Heatherwick’s sixteen-story death stair in the imperial core of Hudson Yards. It is ridiculous but harder than it looks, even for a runner like me. Things started at grade, where Waz, our impossibly bronzed British leader, stood athwart a radioactive-blue ring light and introduced the “uniquely vertical workout” we were to endure over the next hour. Our objective: to go up and down the step well’s irregular staircases as many times as possible before the end of a six-minute interval. “Some of you will make it, others may not,” Waz said, apparently unaware of the Vessel’s grisly reputation. “But that’s life.”
The fitness regimen couldn’t have been more suited to its venue, since the Vessel is basically a Facetuned StairMaster crossed with a CB2 lighting pendant. The 7:30 a.m. sun ricocheted off the folded copper metal panels. Collective gasps were muffled by a Balearic Tame Impala remix and another song that insisted, “If you don’t like something, change it.” We performed banded tricep extensions at the top while Waz tried to upsell us a dip in the Equinox pool next door at 32 Hudson Yards. After we made our way back down, Chris, Waz’s less militant counterpart, led us in calisthenics including lunges, twists, and steps. Morale fell significantly. No one took any notice of the novelty of the experience, sweating in a steely salad spinner in the shadow of the Blackrock headquarters.
A fatiguing finisher of mountain climbers and burpees brought our exertions to a close. After a hands-in cheer, the shape of which resembled the Vessel itself, we made our way back up for an abbreviated photo shoot. To my cohort’s evident disappointment, we weren’t on the west, river-facing side of the structure, but instead had the dour lozenge of Hudson Yards’ upscale shopping mall as our selfie background. I chatted with a Texan who had flown into town the night before and signed up after she was served a targeted ad at check-in. Two Brits posed for a photo with their countryman Waz. The whole group exchanged Instagram handles, then dispersed into the stifling heat of the morning. As she left, a woman who had fallen behind during the run murmured, “God, I hate stairs.”