I Quit the Gym!

Since the gym I was going to was in the same building as TAC, and no where near my house or BAC, I cancelled my membership when I left (though I’m convinced they’re still going to continue to take the $40/month out of my bank account).  After a week of adjusting to my new job/schedule/commute (or being lazy), I finally joined the gym near my house. 

The gym I joined is a BAG (Big Ass Gym).  It has locations in three major cities, plus some in the ‘burbs (like mine).  I live 1-1/2 miles away, plus I drive past it every day on the way home from the train station, so I have no excuse not to go (I also drive past my favorite Mexican restaurant every day, but have successfully avoided it.  At least, so far).  My branch of the gym is probably smaller than the others.  It doesn’t have a pool, but it does have a sauna & a steam room (which I tried to check out in the locker room without looking like a crazy perv).

I found my way to the locker room, which had tons of lockers, built in hairdryers & lotion, plus soap & shampoo in the showers.   After stashing my bag (without a lock on my locker — I like to live on the edge!), I hopped on a treadmill and tried to stealthily check out the cardio area.  There were a lot of machines, and some even had their own TVs!  I stayed away from those, for fear of not being able to use them.  They also had some different machines that I hoped someone would use so I could see how they worked, but no luck there.  They had a few of the same treadmills as TAG had, so I stuck with that, as I knew how to use it. 

A guy jumped on the treadmill next to mine, cranked it up to 7.o, and began running.  Every couple of minutes, he wiped the sweat from his brow, and flug it in front of him, not paying attention to the fact that someone might be walking in front of his treadmill.  He did this so often, despite my nasty glances in his direction, that I was thisclose to asking the lady at the front desk to bring him a towel.  I even remembered to wipe down the treadmill when I was finished, even though I tried to wave my hand in front of the paper towel dispenser like I did at TAG.

Anyway, BAG is nice.  I think I’ll be happy there, at least until we move and I have to do this all over again.  One day I’ll venture into the weight area, and maybe even take a class.  Baby steps. 

I Want to Quit the Gym!

I’ve been a member of my current gym for a few years.  It really can’t be any more convenient, as its in the same building as my office.  I can park my car in front of the gym, and if I don’t go, I get crap from the owner the next day.  Nothing like guilting me onto the treadmill!  I used to love my gym — lots of machines, free personal training, and great classes.  Lately, not so much.

It started with the trainers.  I could never get the same trainer twice, and when I found one I really liked, they’d quit.  My favorite trainer, who gave me tons of pointers on the marathon, quit/got fired the day of the marathon, so I never got to tell her how I did.  Now, there’s only one trainer at night, so its nearly impossible to get an appointment, especially with the influx of January newbies.   Since I clearly have a motivation problem, having a trainer appointment is critical to my gym experience.

Speaking of newbies, here’s a PSA:  The gym is not that complicated.  Pick a machine, hit start, and go.  There’s no need to wander aimlessly among the treadmills, picking just the right TV and cardio machine, before getting on for 3 minutes and leaving to talk to your buddy.  You don’t need a matching outfit, you do need an elastic for your hair.  And wipe off your sweat when you get off!

Anyways, the clincher came when my kickboxing class got cancelled.  My teacher, a huge dude named Scott that was an awesome teacher, but not someone I’d like to meet in a back alley, left to go to his own gym on the Cape.  Plus, he didn’t often get paid on time, and threatened to steal the cash register if he didn’t get his check, but I’m sure that was no biggie, right?  Its been a month, and no new kickboxing classes have been scheduled.  Punching and kicking just isn’t the same without a big sweaty dude who smells like cigarettes yelling at you to breathe.

The owner, however, has been bugging me to take his stupid Cardio Sport class.  The owner is also a trainer who made me cry, but that’s a whole other story.  Cardio Sport is like gym class.  I’m not old enough to forget the trauma of gym class, so this is not a big selling point for me.  The class involves a lot of running around the gym, so getting to the locker room is like crossing a busy highway.  There are also obstacle courses and soccer games, including lots of yelling and some pushing.  Plus lots of opportunity to have people point and laugh at you, and homey don’t play that. 

I think I’ve just outgrown this gym.  Its time to move on, even though it will be hard.  We’ve had some good times together.  I’ve been mentally prepping myself for the inevitable, “Hey, don’t you want a washboard stomach and rock hard pecs?”  And my response, “No! I want a flabby gut and saggy man breasts!”**

 **From Friends, but some of you already knew that!