Graduation

I was skeptical at first, but I am now a believer in the powers of physical therapy.

Last Thursday I completed eight weeks at Sports PT and have come out of it with stronger muscles, a healthier perspective on exercise and a training plan for the next few months.

And, oh yeah, I can run now! (Very, very slowly, and not far, but it's a start.) 

The best part was definitely the free T-shirt they give you at the last visit.

Saturday begins five weeks of hot yoga classes specifically geared toward athletes who run, cycle and swim; and those like me, who want to heal and prevent injuries and seek better performance. 

As soon as I get a few more good jogs under my belt I am going to find and register for a 10K in the late spring/early summer.

Finishing up at Sports PT and saying farewell to the incomparable Dr. Jeff on Thursday was only the beginning of a whirlwind week.

On Friday, after I banged out my last three stories on my last day at The Saratogian, good times were had by the pintful at Gaffney's, which is seemingly becoming the farewell party bar of choice for the newspaper's employees. The crew came out in force to send me off on a high (and sufficiently intoxicated) note. Thanks, guys! We traded goodbyes, but I know I'll be seeing them around soon.

A fraction of the pile. The contents represent the makings of, ohh, say, 80 percent of my life during the last 2 years. Scary!

Somehow I recovered Saturday in time to drive 200 miles and commence a multi-borough food and friend adventure through New York City: First came wine and good company in the Bronx, then Thai food in Queens.

In the East Village Sunday afternoon, there was an Eggs Benedict brunch done in true hipster style, and train hopping to Brooklyn, where I was welcomed inside a warm, full apartment just as gray storm clouds gathered above. Cookie-baking, popcorn-making, Vietnamese/Indian dinner delivery, a chick flick and cat antics ensued as a rainstorm raged outside. Back home, some less-fortunate folks were enduring another frickin blizzard.

The next day, under sunny skies and amid windy gusts, it was back to Manhattan for a trip to Macy's, solo lunching/sightseeing, and an accidental 15-block stroll hustle, in heels, during rush hour, after I made a sliiight error navigating the subway. Oops.

Finally, I made a spontaneous return to the Bronx Monday evening for more wine, sushi, the Best Carrot Cake Ever, and some insightful conversation with a very cool journalist.  

Just another tourist snapping photos in Rockefeller Center.

I was hoping to bump into Tina Fey outside the GE building, but alas, she was busy writing her next essay for the New Yorker ... or maybe the next episode of 30 Rock.

Inside St. Patrick's Cathedral, I was struck by the Gothic beauty and the homeless who were crumpled silently in some of the pews.

A collection basket resting till the next service.

On Tuesday afternoon, I was greeted in Saratoga with a driveway full of snow and ice, and the realization that I had absolutely nothing to do as major local news developed around me. (To cope, I immediately went to a yoga class, then spent the next two nights at the gym.) But that is a story for another post.

Check back for another update soon, before my Fabulous and Slightly Unbelievable Week of No Employment comes to an end Monday morning.