I walked around suburban New Jersey with a weighted vest

I was recently fed a TikTok of a lady cleaning her floor with a Swiffer. Although the algorithm baffles me every day, this was a new one.

Then I read the caption: “I am obsessed with my weighted vest and I truly feel like this is great for at-home workouts or doing chores around the house.”

Ah, fitness content. Now it made more sense.

By clicking on a simple hashtag, #WeightedVest, I was transported into a new world where I could build more muscle and burn more calories during actual workouts or while doing mundane tasks just by adding weight to my body — and keeping my hands dumbbell-free.

Why I wanted to try a weighted vest

Last September, I found myself in a career pivot while juggling homework and extracurriculars for three school-aged kids.

Time I had once zealously spent at Break the Mold Fitness in Lyndhurst was now spent hustling, driving carpools around North Jersey, and catching up on much-needed sleep.

And while maintaining my home, walking my dog and living a very busy life all keep me active, I lost something when I left the gym. I miss the early mornings, the shared purpose and the feeling of having lifted heavy things.

But until now, my only reference point for weighted vests was a very nice guy at my gym, who was so fit that he had to wear one so that his workouts actually worked. I observed him strapping it on to do chin-ups, push-ups, and even box jumps on many occasions.

A Google search for “weighted vest workout” confirms that it’s male-dominated and popular with folks who are interested in tracking and optimizing. It falls within a corner of the fitness world with its own customs and language. (Don’t call it walking. It’s “rucking.”)

My eyes opened to the possibilities. Women wear these things to walk and do house chores. Some claim they increase calorie burn "by up to 8%,” though it turns out this varies by person and depends on how you use the vest. And many have communicated motivational stories about their fitness transformations, often accompanied by catchy tunes that make you want to work out.

I called my friend Jhonnatan Ramirez, a certified personal trainer who owns NJ Fitness Factory in Bloomfield, New Jersey. He had a weighted vest I could borrow and invited me to pick it up the next day.

What it was like to try the weighted vest

I immediately noticed that Jhon’s vest was bulkier than some of the ones I’ve seen online, which look less like body armor and more like dainty life preservers.

Soon, it became clear why. The thing is heavy — 40 pounds — but has removable sandbags along its chest and waist that allow you to adjust the weight for your strength and needs.

Let’s define my goals for this experiment.

I haven’t gained a significant amount of weight since the beginning of my fitness drought — I was strong, but not particularly lean to begin with. But I’ve lost strength, which I notice when I’m hauling big houseplants or opening our heavy, ancient garage door.

And what I miss the most about my workouts are the mental health benefits — particularly the calm, breezy satisfaction of knowing I moved my body rigorously.

By using a weighted vest, I hoped to add a little more exercise to my day without changing my lifestyle or losing sleep.

I decided to put on all 40 pounds of the vest for my maiden voyage just to see what I was working with. My agenda included cleaning up the morning’s breakfast mayhem, and compiling old clothes and other items in advance of a donation I’d scheduled for the following day.

I felt surprisingly strong while wearing the vest, but noted that I had to be really careful with my lower back. Bending down to grab a plate was less like unloading the dishwasher and more akin to doing a deadlift. I felt my muscles working in a way that felt more like “gym” than “kitchen.”

I wore the vest for about an hour, until my back needed a break. It felt like I’d had a good core and butt workout.

While I felt comfortable in the vest, I wondered what it would be like to wear it outside the house. I could either put it over my clothes and give off intense bulletproof vest vibes, or wear it under my coat and potentially get the neighbors talking about my overnight “weight gain.”

I live in suburban New Jersey, and while I’ve seen these vests around gyms and tracks – I haven’t noticed them at say, elementary school drop-off, which has a more, I-might-brush-my-hair-and-then-do-yoga vibe.

My best friend burst out laughing when I expressed some uncertainty about wearing the vest in public.

And when I wore the thing in my driveway, I felt like shouting, “Just bringing in the groceries, folks! No need for alarm!”

So I opted for a more remote location: I’d wear the vest on a hike with my dog at Mills Reservation, a county park in neighboring Montclair.

On Jhon’s suggestion, I adjusted the vest to around 15% of my body weight. I’d chosen to make the vest visible, and almost added an exercise headband to communicate that this was a fitness thing. But then I realized I was headed into the woods, which conjured images of "Rambo." I swapped the headband for a beanie.

I set off on a 2-mile loop and began on the flat portion as a warmup. I noticed that I needed to be purposeful with my gait, and also needed to engage my core, hips and thighs so I didn’t step “funny” on a knee or ankle.

As the trail began a gentle climb, I loved the mild fatigue in my legs, and the beads of sweat on my face. My lungs gathered air deeply. I’d missed this. Why hadn’t I thought of a weighted vest sooner?

A fellow middle-ager approached with his dog. In my enjoyment, I’d forgotten what I was wearing. As our dogs played, he remarked, “A little weighted vest action?” I felt faintly sheepish, but before I could respond, he tugged his own weighted vest out from beneath his jacket.

“Adds a little something to my walks,” he said. I told him I was new to it, but loving the vest so far. It felt like I’d joined a club.

I climbed through the rest of the hike, then back to the car, careful to watch my step on the downslopes. I was sore the next day. Sore! I did some stretching, and made plans to find some good core workouts on YouTube. Movement begets movement. I knew the vest had changed mundane tasks forever.

What to know before you try a weighted vest

Choose an adjustable model.

Not all weighted vests are adjustable; those that are will help you avoid injury in the beginning and get stronger over time. Look for a vest like the one I tried, which can go up or down in weight as needed. Mine also had a fully customizable Velcro belt — you want it to fit you very snugly so the weight doesn’t shift around while you move. I’ve seen prices ranging from $50 to $300. The one I borrowed cost around $90.

Be prepared for stares from the uninitiated.

I definitely got some double-takes from more casual frolickers in the woods. And a couple days later, that bestie who chuckled about my experiment encountered me wearing it in Brookdale Park. She didn’t even recognize me until we were 10 feet apart, though her surprise immediately shifted to admiration. I like to think she was inspired.

Add weight slowly.

Regardless of your fitness level, if you’ve never worn a weighted vest, it’s best to start small. Try 5%-10% of your body weight. Add weight in increments of about 5% — slowly if you’re less fit, or more quickly if you have a fitness foundation. Folks who train with vests regularly often carry 10%-20% of their body weight without an issue, Jhon says.

Listen to your body.

This is Jhon’s biggest advice. Look for any little signs of discomfort, which are most likely to present in your joints or your back. Engage your core, which not only includes your torso but also — crucially — your glutes. Activating these muscles ensures that the vest’s weight and the force of your movements are distributed evenly throughout the strongest parts of your body, rather than just beating up your knees and ankles.

You might also be a "weighted vest person."

You might think you know how this article ends: The weighted vest was her path back to the gym. But that’s not how my story is evolving. The truth is that there’s nothing I want to trade out for the gym right now. But there just aren’t enough hours in the day for me to get there. I never thought of myself as a “weighted vest person,” but now it seems like the obvious way to maintain better fitness while I carry on with my full life.