There often is one, isn't there? In this case, it's even farther along the continuum, maybe as far as a blessing in disguise. As many of you know, my gym closed. Yes, the late great 19th Street Gym, aka Testosterone Plaza, where I worked out for twelve years, is no more. Went there two weeks ago, after having been out for three weeks between travel and illness, and there I was rarin' to go work out -- and the gates were down! Over, done, took de money an' ran Venezuela. Or someplace. So, great drama all over the blogosphere, and great calm and competence from a guy named Kelly Ford, blog now linked above -- very interesting takes on NYC -- who took the lead on finding out info and doing the only practical thing: arranging for the building staff to let folks in and at least get our stuff out.

So, I have my sneakers and Mastercard says it'll give me my money back. Great, but then the Big Question: where to go now???

Looked at a bunch of places, and based on what I saw plus recommendations, the winner is the McBurney Y. Or I should say, the winner is me. This is a much better gym. It's also more expensive (which says something, maybe, about why 19th St. closed, if a Y is more expensive). But I just went and worked out for the first time, and I loved it. The machines are good, there's an indoor running track, a steam room, and a basketball court so I can practice my midrange jumper! It's also closer to my apt. I'll dig up the money -- I mean, it's more, but it's not outrageous -- and I'll be much happier.

So to Tommy and the other meat-head steroid-pumped screw-ups from 19th St: goodbye. With affection, thanks for the workouts and the twelve good years. And thanks, I guess, for closing.