TODO is one daily thing recommended for you, by us.
Let's just face it: belonging to a fancy Equinox/NYSC/Reebok Club/Crunch style gym is just not worth the money. Seriously, it's not, unless you're one of those people who are all "I work out every single morning, no matter what, and it's such a valuable integral part of my life and it keeps me toned, firm, and most importantly centered," in which case fuuuuck you. But if you go to one of those gyms and the way you justify the expense to yourself is "Shelling out this much money plus having paid an exorbitant initiation fee is my way of guaranteeing to myself that I will definitely start going to the gym all the time," then realize that you are basically paying to feel guilty. Feeling guilty should be free. Here is our suggestion: cancel your expensive gym membership, spend part of the money you are saving on drugs and/or pastries, feel guilty about THAT, and spend the rest of the money on a membership at our favorite gym ever, the Greenpoint YMCA. You can't even begin to imagine how wonderful this gym is, and that's why we're here: to help your imagination out.
One of the major 'pros' of going to the Greenpoint Y is that, instead of being surrounded by spandex-clad yuppies who look like the people in those late-night ads for home ab-crunching equipment, you will be surrounded by people of every conceivable ethnicity, age, gender, and B.O. 'flavor' (though 'onion' does tend to predominate). We don't know about you, but we think that working out next to a fit grandma is inspirational. 'Hey, it's possible to stay hale and hearty long into one's golden years!' we think to ourself. Also, it's a free ego boost. 'I am really in shape compared to this lady. She can't do nearly as many leg presses as me!' Ego boosts are a big part of why we love the Y.
Another reason to love the Y is that you will never be intimidated by the teenage thugs and hoodlums who haunt your neighborhood's stoops and shout witty remarks about passing ladies' asses ever again. Because now, you will have a relationship with the thugs that is cordial and based on conversational exchanges about how that one elliptical machine is always broken. You + thugs = good pals. (This doesn't mean they will stop talking about your ass, but they won't do it to your face).
Speaking of broken elliptical machines, it is true that the Y does have its drawbacks. For example, if you are accustomed to having a plethora of CardioStripYogaPilatescycle classes on offer, well, sorry. The Y's classes tend to be sort of bare bones, although there is one good yoga class. Just bring your own mat because theirs smell like the distilled essence of a thousand unclad feet. And if you are into water-related exercise, be aware of the fact that the Y's "pool" is like three feet long and it's the temperature of piss — probably, we fear, for piss-related reasons. But if you pretty much only belong to a gym so that you can feel virtuous once or twice a month for run/walking on the treadmill while reading a dogeared month-old Us Weekly, then boy, do we have a lot in common. And also, you should join the Greenpoint YMCA.
(PS: There is a hostel-style setup on the upper floors, so if you're a cash-strapped tourist who is just dying to check out the scenic sights of Brooklyn's most Polish neighborhood, you can hang out with all the boys at the YMCA, if by 'boys' you mean 'fellow smelly Eastern European backpackers.' We're not sure if this is a plus or a minus, but just thought you should know.)