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My excessive energy, extreme narcissism, and intense love of neon-colored spandex is both managed and fueled by my addiction to fitness. I push myself to extremes and I push other people's buttons. Obviously I needed my own blog.

Saturday, March 14, 2015

No Place Like Home

I occasionally get asked if I miss anything about New York. While living without Seamless and 24 hour bodegas has proven to be an inconvenience, I really don't miss anything* besides CrossFit Hell's Kitchen.

*I know my boyfriend is going to read this statement and get offended, but in my opinion he is not a part of New York - he just happens to live there. I always miss him, wherever he is, if he's not with me.

I miss CFHK a lot, especially now that it's the Open. I wish I was able to celebrate this special time with everyone there. I really dislike a lot of places in Manhattan (and don't even get me started on Brooklyn), but the 4,500 sq. ft. that make up CFHK is my home and I miss my family.

This week has been a really shitty week, and this morning was a shitty morning. I walked out of CrossFit without doing anything. For the first time, I just didn't want to be at CrossFit and I left. I got in my car and I cried. Not sure if I mentioned that I got a new car, a platinum grey 2015 Nissan Rogue Select named Miranda. (No, I didn't get a Rogue because it's called a Rogue. Yes, she's named after Miranda Oldroyd.) A much nicer car to cry in if you're going to cry in a car. And then I drove myself to Target, where I bought myself socks and a new shoe rack to display all of my sneakers. 

Shopping at Target in New York is not a pleasant experience because you have to figure out how to lug everything back home from Harlem. Shopping at Target in Atlanta is spectacular because you can park directly in front of the doors and then drive back home to your apartment parking lot. I love lots of things about Atlanta and I like where I go to CrossFit now, but the only place I really wanted to be today was home.

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