Well, it’s almost the end of the year, which means it’s almost time for me to make a lot of empty promises to myself about being a better person, doing things differently, making changes. This year is a big one for me, though. I’m turning 35 in a few months, and I have to face the sad realization that I have the muscle tone of a newborn and the lung capacity of a three-pack a day coal miner.
This cannot continue. So this past weekend, I decided to take charge of my life and do the unthinkable – I joined a gym. As a permanent member. With a laminated card and everything.
Part of what has kept me out of gyms all these years, aside from inertia and reality television, is that they intimidate the crap out of me. Everyone is so focused in the gym – they have coordinated outfits, vitamin water, things that measure heart rate, and oh god, shower shoes!
I had been talking about joining the gym down the street from me for the past year, but always found some reason not to take the plunge. I would walk by at night and look up at all the muscular silhouettes running on the treadmills that faced out onto the street, iPods firmly secured, water bottles perfectly poised, and I’d think, “My god those people are sweaty. They’re totally fogging up the windows!”
But then a bit later, after I had time to reflect, I would think, “I wonder if those sweaty people wiped off all their sweat after they left?”
Then finally, I would be left with a sense of envy. Not of their sweat, nor of the person who had to wipe up their sweat, but of their commitment to becoming healthier.
So on Saturday, after much deliberation and a few failed walk-bys, I pulled open the giant doors to the gym, walked up to the front desk and said, “I’d like to speak to someone about a membership.”
A lovely and high-spirited young woman named Maya beamed me a smile, and then handed me a form to fill out that essentially said a) if I was somehow dismembered during my tour of the facilities, I would not sue and b) that I promised not to steal all their ideas and open an identical gym of my own. I told her she should put her money on dismemberment.
After I had signed all the appropriate forms, Maya began by telling me what their hours of operation were, but I was completely distracted by some heavenly and altogether unexpected smell coming from somewhere on the first floor.
I stopped her in mid-sentence, “I’m sorry, but, what is that delicious odor?”
She sniffed the air, smiled and said, “Oh, you must mean our deli. We have a smoothie bar and health food counter over to the left.”
I looked in the direction she pointed and saw the source of this delectable scent: row upon row of perfectly golden rotisserie chicken, slowly turning on a spit and basting in their own juices.
“Wait… you have rotisserie chicken here? And smoothies?”
“Yes, we have a full delicatessen. It’s really quite good. Why don’t I start by showing you the locker room, and then we can go through all the equipment on the first and second floors.”
She took me downstairs to the locker room, and before I could tell her that the odds of me actually taking a shower here were even more remote than me starting a competing gym, she had already led me straight into a gaggle of half naked women who seemed oblivious to my presence. I’m not sure if it was some repressed traumatic high school P.E. class experience, or perhaps just my 1% Amish heritage showing through, but I’ve never been a fan of public showering.
After leaving the locker room, Maya brought me over to what she called the meditation area, just outside what she called the stretching mat area. “Here’s our meditation area where you can come to relax. As you can see, we have a koi pond, miniature waterfall, and lemon water for you to enjoy.”
“Wow – this is so nice! Hey, um… can we eat chicken down here?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Chicken. Can we eat the rotisserie chicken down here by the koi pond? I’ll bet it would taste nice washed down with some of that lemon water.”
“Uh, no. No, we don’t allow food in the meditation area.”
“Oh, okay. I was just wondering.”
Our next stop was the first floor of equipment. This would be my proving ground since I had already exposed the fact that I didn’t know the meditation area protocol. I couldn’t let on that I was such a complete gym newbie.
“Now here is where all of our classes are held. We offer three different types of yoga, cardio kick-boxing, Pilates, and Spin. Outside this room we have some of our treadmills and stair climbers. What type of a workout are you used to doing?”
Oh god.
I frantically looked around the room, trying to remember what she had just told me, “Uh… I mostly like to work out on the treadmills and stair climbers. Mostly. Oh, and I really like the ellipses machines.”
“You mean the elliptical trainers?”
“Oh… yeah. Elliptical. Those are good.”
I thought I saw Maya glance down at my thighs, but her eyes were very shifty, so I couldn’t be sure. “Mmkay, well I should tell you that we’re getting another six new treadmills over here, and as you can see, all of our machines are equipped with flat screen TV’s. You just plug your headphones in, and you’re ready to go.”
My ears perked up at this, “Flat screen TV’s? On all the machines? That’s so great!”
“Yeah, people really like that. So any questions about the equipment down here?”
“No, I think you’ve answered every-… well, actually one question. Can we eat chicken on the treadmills while we’re watching TV if we’re really careful?”
She stared at me in silence for a few seconds longer than I appreciated, then replied, “No. No chicken in the meditation room, no chicken on the treadmills. No chicken anywhere in the gym, really.”
“Except where you sell it over there.”
“Follow me upstairs.”
Maya led me past at least thirty machines I was certain I would never use because they involved steel cables and an elaborate system of levers and pulleys. All I could see was the image of my hair getting tangled up in the wires, and having to scream for help while my head was pinned against the seat of a rowing machine. It’s hard to recover after such a faux-pas.
We circled the second floor and ended up in front of the windows I had looked up at so many times over the past few years. And now, there I was, standing up high and looking down at all the out-of-shape schlubs walking down the street. So this is what it feels like to be healthy, I thought. It feels… superior.
We ended our tour right where we started, bathed in the salty scent of grilled meat. The man behind the deli counter tipped his fingers to his hat, as if to welcome me into his secret society.
“Well then, if you don’t have any more questions… about the equipment… you can just have a seat here at our internet café and fill out the application form.”
Internet café?
I looked around me and saw six flat screen monitors, each with high speed internet, just waiting to be surfed. As I handed Maya my credit card, I closed my eyes, inhaled deeply, and felt healed. I just feel so silly now for being so intimidated by gyms all these years. If I had known that working out involved WiFi, flat screen TV’s, and golden crisped rotisserie chicken, I would have joined years ago.

Filed under: General on December 13th, 2005