I went to Harlem and I sort of cooked. |

TGIF! It’s starting to cool down here in NYC — September certainly seems to have gotten that memo — which has made for some beauteous morning runs this week. My legs are unfortunately still a bit sore (grrr) but the absence of humidity makes everything easier and I’m lovin’ these 60degree mornings.

Yesterday’s run felt pretty good, but the one thing I’m realizing is that I think I’m coming out of the gate too quickly. I suppose it’s fine for my short runs but I definitely won’t be able to sustain this pace for a longer run, and I’m getting worried I might be tiring myself out. I think I’ll plan to slow it down a bit tomorrow on my longer run and see how I feel. My splits certainly attest to the fact that I think I’m running a one-mile race against myself or something when I start out, and then my body tries to recalibrate and hold me in check. Calm it down, girl. Nobody’s watching, and those cyclists will always ~~hate runners~~ be faster.

I’ve been having a Quest Bar for breakfast almost every day lately, and I’m totally digging them. They keep me full for hours and I ordered their 12-pack of the All-Natural line as a way to try a bunch of flavors. I had the Chocolate Peanut butter this morning and liked it, but the Cinn Roll is totally holding strong as the front runner. Pretty sure that guy won’t be usurped. I have a longstanding habit of playing favorites and this is no exception.

So last night I trekked up to Harlem after work to check out two hot spots: Red Rooster and a friend’s new sweet apartment (with his own backyard — totally clutch in NYC).

So Red Rooster — what a cool spot. You get off the 2-3 train and basically trip into the place, and it’s this fabulous neighborhood icon designed with the vision of embodying the heart and soul of Harlem’s culture and history. It has this true Americana feeling and eclectic Southern-style decor, and the place was hopping by 6pm. I only stayed for one glass of wine and didn’t try the food, but I want to return sometime to check out their jazz nights.

The highlight for me was when this old black gentleman sat down next to me at the bar in a spiffy suit with little circle wire-rimmed glasses, sporting a red bow tie and a shiny cane, and calling everyone who worked there by name. He was obviously a regular and was in his glory, as though he ran the place and couldn’t imagine being more content anywhere else. I wanted to hug him but settled for just staring at home the whole time and hoping he’d want to be my friend. His presence there just solidified how cool this spot is.

So then we checked out my friend’s apartment (which gives a whole new meaning to the term “one-bedroom in NYC” — seriously, you get way more bang for your buck in Harlem) and I tried to remember how to cook. Okay, so I cut up tomatoes and avocado and manned the Pandora with wine in hand while he grilled. Either way, we ended up with some pretty amazing fish tacos which we were able to enjoy outside on his patio. Success.

I can’t say I’m ready to make the move to Harlem but having a huge apartment with an outdoor space is such a precious commodity in this city. I guess the next best thing to having it yourself is having generous friends who will let you invade at will.

On a fitness note: I’ve been thinking lately that I need to give yoga a whirl (like I haven’t been saying this for the past 5 years), mainly because all the muscles in my legs are so tight these days that sitting Indian-style is about as comfortable as getting my eyebrows threaded. The only problem is that when I try to motivate myself by looking at pretty yoga posing women, all I can think is “There’s no way in H my hips will move like that” and “I really love her tattoo.”