Roger Federer is my friend.  On Facebook, at least.  Which is how I found out, through his status update, that he would be appearing on 23rd and Broadway this morning from 10:15 to 10:45 am.  Which is what brought me out of my rut (see below, or just keep reading) to go and see him.

Federer is everything I believe an athlete should be: highly skilled, gracious, a class act.  He is not out there on the court to put on a show or shock people with his fashion or antics.  He is out there to play tennis and win.  Which he usually does.  He is determined and focused on the court, and he is humble and kind off it.  He donates time and money to charity.  He loves his family.  He thanks his competitors.  And one of my favorite things about him: his humility is not the self-deprecating, false kind that we are so accustomed to mislabeling as humility.  (“Aww, shucks, I ain’t nothin’ special!”)  He knows he is talented and will tell you if he had a great game.  He tells the truth.

I am a fan.

Which is why I just devoted the first half of this entry to him; that and he was a big part of being my “Reasons I Love New York” list today.  Lately, I have allowed the city to become as small as my neighborhood.  Which can be fun and comforting and convenient, but can also cause me to forget all the things I used to go out of my way to enjoy here.  I have blamed heat and money (lack of it) for my unwillingness to venture below 23rd street lately.  Trader Joe’s on 14th has become my idea of stretching my boundaries.

Not today.

Today, I took a morning walk through Madison Square Park and met Roger on the other side.  (Unbeknownst to him.)  Then I walked down Broadway and admired my favorite church, Grace Episcopal.  A Gothic and green oasis.  I checked out the $1 books outside Strand Bookstore.  Then I hit the Green Market for some cold cider and sweet corn (a healthier craving than the Lay’s potato chips I demolished earlier).  The Market is a place where a city girl can feel like she’s in the country, even while tall buildings and drug addicts hover in her midst.  I walked around, checking out the booths like I knew something about leeks and Russian potatoes with weird shapes.  (Note to self: cook more.  With vegetables.)  I passed bright bursts of hot pink and orange flowers, bags of apples, tables of zucchini and squash.  (Which reminds me of the recent time I bought a zucchini thinking it was a cucumber.  Seriously, self: EAT MORE VEGETABLES!!!)  I felt the communal life of the city that is not connected to getting to work on time, but buying fresh food to sustain selves and families.  I felt like an all-natural hippie.  It was great.

So I didn’t end up covering a ton of ground, square-mileage-wise, or checking out unfamiliar territory.  But I revisited some favorite spots and, rather than rushing through them, took my time and breathed them in.  While thanking NYU for having a two-week summer break, and God for filling it with things that matter.

Now can someone please tell me how to cook corn?