Lately, New York is not really my favorite place. Or rather, my favorite place to live (Freudian slip that I first wrote "leave?"). I am mentally fantasizing about others, though me and New York may not ever be able to break up. I'm good here for the next year or two, but then, who knows? That's why I'm squeezing in as much travel as I can, because I can appreciate New York more when I get away. Boston this weekend, Minneapolis the next.
But one thing I am loving about New York is my New York Sports Club membership. Last night I worked out next to my first home in NYC, 240 Mercer Street. I always have to laugh at how dumb and naive I was, thinking I could be a lawyer, thinking I had the stamina, the smarts, the whatever it takes to make it. I may have failed as a law student, but I hope I've made it as a New Yorker. Anyway, that gym had great machines and is open til 11 Monday-Thursday (I think, it was last night, anyway), and I had new sneakers and reading material for inspiration (interesting pieces on Amazon.com/Jeff Bezos/e-books and the chain that owns Olive Garden and Red Lobster in Fast Company, and Jill Soloway interviews Diablo Cody in BUST).