Why do I hate my gym?

So maybe hate is a bit strong of a word. The fact of the matter is that there are many aspects of my new gym that I enjoy tremendously. For starters, I only pay $20 a month. You can't beat that with a stick. (I've tried. It can't be done.) Secondly, I get unlimited guest passes which means that my girlfriend (WWIHS) and I can work out together for one low price. Also, it is ridiculously close to my home. Now in order to assure you that this is not a commercial for my gym, I will not mention its name. (If they'd like to work out some sort of financial arrangement for my endorsement, that's another story.)

But before I delve into the "annoyances" with my gym, I will give you a brief yet crucial summary on my history with gyms in general. (Well brief may be the wrong word as well. Let's just see what happens...together) I used to be quite the gym rat. In fact, when I was in high school, it's what me and my geek friends did to fill the void of a vacuous social life. (I know some of those very friends are reading this and all I can say is that you know it's true. Just accept it.) I also, as I've mentioned before, used to be an above average athlete in those days. Hence, it behooved me to get into the gym consistently.

After high school, I went to college and, while my official playing days had come to an end, I still maintained an avid interest in staying in shape and was a frequent visitor of the college weight room. It was there that I learned that all of the weight room etiquette that I learned in high school still applied in college. Everyone is there to improve themselves in some way or another. Everyone is supportive of each other whether they are overtly screaming at their friend to give them one more rep, or subtly recognizing that the scrawny dweeb has just as much right to be in the gym as the hulking football player. There were no judgements allowed and everyone was allowed to work out with their own style and pace. It was, dare I say, a community.

Naturally, after I graduated college and didn't have the benefit of free facilities, the amount of time I spent in the gym declined dramatically over the years. That was until I found a really cheap, no frills, 24-hour gym in Chelsea. I was returning to my people. The supportive crew that would cheer me on and help me improve myself. Unfortunately, nothing could have been further from the truth. I'll have to take some time and go through the catalog of my life choices, but I think that was the worst possible decision that I have ever made.

It started with the decision to enlist the services of one of their personal trainers. Big mistake. This guy was about 5'5" tall and an aspiring bodybuilder. (Can you say compensating? I knew you could.) He naturally assumed that every man that he trained was interested looking as bulky as they possibly could. He said to me, "Because your so tall, it's going to be difficult for you to look big. Plus your body will only put on but so much weight naturally. If you'd like to go bigger then you'd have to look into (are you ready for this?) steroids." STEROIDS?! WHAT THE FUCK?! Why is that in the conversation? Why didn't I run from this man?

But I stuck with him anyway because I figured that despite his obvious mental defects, he probably had some very useful information to share with me. I felt that I could filter out the crazy and use the good stuff. It was a very good plan until some time during the middle of the second training session when, due to the rigorousness of the work out and my poor eating habits, I promptly ran into the bathroom and vomited into a trash can. (At least I missed the walls) That, my friends, was the last time I used a personal trainer.

What put me over the edge in terms of using that gym entirely was caused by a different psychopath altogether. I would work out at really late times to avoid the rush. Unfortunately, Mr. Psycho Man had the exact same philosophy. It started out pleasantly enough. A couple of tips here and there. But then it just became overwhelmingly annoying. He too, was an aspiring bodybuilder at a towering 5'7" tall. He would constantly talk about workout routines. So much so that I didn't have time to actually work out. Top that off with the fact that he was incapable of picking up any of the customary social cues that you and I have mastered over the years. A phrase like, "Oh well, I guess I better get back to working out," just didn't seem to register with this guy. And let's face it, working out is not the most fun thing in the world for a lot of people. And if the gym that you're going to is filled with annoying people, there really isn't going to be a lot of incentive to keep going. As a result, I simply stopped going and that was the end of any involvement I had with any gym ever again.

That is, until recently. I've got my new cheap gym with some decent equipment. I've got my girlfriend who is willing to go with me during the weird times that I feel comfortable going. Everything is in place to stick with it.

There's only one slight problem. People are assholes.

The supportive and nurturing environment that I was accustomed to over the years just does not exist anymore. And no matter how late or early I get to the gym, I will encounter some weirdo. It is simply unavoidable. And the staff clearly doesn't give a fuck. They refuse to enforce the very basic policies of my "enlightened" gym.

It breaks down like this: There's a free weight area which looks a little like a prison yard. I hate to say that but it's true. I'm sure those guys are all very nice, but I'm afraid to go over there. Then there are the machines which are a little more communal. Both men and women use them and they're set up in a way that allows you to have a little privacy at each machine. There's the Cardio area which contains no pretense whatsoever. Last but not least, there's the Circuit Training area. This is where you can hit all of the major muscles in 30 minutes. It is also, somewhat hidden behind all of the Cardio machines.

Back in the day, I wouldn't have been caught dead in that area. That's not where the real athletes worked out. That's where the sorority chicks worked out. Where people who didn't know anything worked out. But alas, it is now the place where I work out because I just ain't got that kind of time. Nor do I have the desire to spend hours trying to chisel my calf muscles into that perfect shape.

So my question is, why the hell are the muscle bound freaks making there way over to the Circuit area? The machines aren't any different than the machines in the general area. In fact, the machines in the general area are probably better. And, like I said before, it's on the other side of the gym so it's definitely not convenient. So why are they camping out at these machines and busting out 5 sets on that chest press machine? Why must they put the weights at the highest possible setting and then do arm curls? Who are they trying to impress? And most importantly, why are they disrupting my very simple and non-threatening 30-minute workout?

Yes, I realize that those were a lot of questions not just one.

The other night, there was one guy that was just sitting on the leg press machine. He would do a set and then camp out until he was ready to start again. He literally spent about 15 minutes on a machine that you should only be on for about 2 minutes tops. And showed absolutely no regard for the fact that other people were waiting. Then there was this other guy. He was about 5'6" and had the really huge upper body sitting on top of skinny legs. (Are you sensing the theme yet?) He asked me if he could work out with me on the rowing machine. I had just completed one of TWO sets. Back the fuck off. (Note: Actual words I said were, "I just have one more set.")

So there really is no lesson to this week's blog. At least none that I can see. All I know is that the biggest problem with doing something that you might actually enjoy is that other people tend to get in the way of that. No matter how late I show up at the gym, there's always at least one meat head that has to use THAT machine. The one that I want to use. However, I will not be deterred. I will stick to my routine as best as I possibly can and will not let the stupidity of others detract from it. I am not the "complain to the staff" type and even if I were, I don't think it would do much good. Nor am I the type to lecture a complete stranger on proper gym etiquette. So, until I can finance my own private gym, I will simply suffer fools gladly. And periodically I'll add in a, "Move, Bitch. Get out the way. Get out the way, Bitch. Get out the way."