Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about my Equinox gym membership. I bought the ridiculously expensive membership last year as a gift to myself after the first check from my book deal cleared.
I love working out there. Not because I care about get ripped or anything. It’s more so the physical release. The mental clarity that emerges after exerting yourself for 45 minutes or so. It sucks while doing the work, especially on the days when it’s 5am and I could be sleeping. But afterwards, I feel so good—and those positive feelings radiate outward for the rest of my day. I’m a better father, husband, and writer after I workout.
I’ve worked out in all types of places in the past. For a long time, I made due with a tiny weight set in my old apartment in the Bronx. Later, I hired a “personal trainer” when I lived in Washington Heights—an ex-con who taught me all types of prison workouts, and who also tried to extort me for a couple grand. In Miami, I graduated to an LA Fitness membership, but got tired scouring the place for missing weights and fighting off meatheads just to get a few reps in on the squat rack.
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