Who's Dumb Bell is it Anyway?

I've realized that I write about the gym a lot, but the gym is a literal breeding ground for awkward, humorous and unexpected events. Putting together hundreds of sweaty strangers is like an improv comedy show that none of the cast are aware they're participating in.

Today, Erin and I were lifting during a very busy time at our gym. When I say we were lifting, note that we are 25 year old girls. We lift 5, 10 or 15 pound dumb bells, and use machines, but no matter how experienced we are, we're petite girls. Leave it to fate that we ended up next to a man, also lifting, who easily weighed 300 pounds and looked like his name should have been Hercules.

This was a beast of a man; his Under Armour was struggling not to tear apart at the seams with his every breath. I have never in my life seen a person with biceps this large. As the backstreet Boys would say, they were larger than life. Hercules was struggling to complete his routine amid a bunch of weights someone had left scattered around the area. Anyone who works out knows that it's common courtesy to re-rack your weights. It's like covering your mouth when you sneeze; you just do it. I don't blame him for being irritated that someone had forgotten, but the fact that he asked Erin and me if we were responsible for leaving these weights out was too much.

The barbells he was pushing out of his way were all 120 pounds or heavier. I would be physically incapable of hefting one of those babies off the rack, let alone work out with it. When he asked us if they were our weights, Erin immediately said yes. I also nodded, and told him, "I had them out to practice juggling, but forgot to put them away - sorry."

Our humor is lost on those who take themselves too seriously.

He asked again if they were really ours or not, and I promptly responded, "Sir, you could curl me in one hand and one of those in the other. No they are not our weights, are you kidding me!"

Finally he gets the joke. He grumbled as he put them away, and Erin and I proceeded with our human-sized weights.

Fit(ness) to be Tied

I joined Pure Fitness during my senior year of college in 2005. I did very little research when I chose to join, above what facilities were closest to my apartment, and what the monthly fee would be. For the majority of my relationship with the gym (yes, I called it a relationship) I was largely content. They didn’t have the newest equipment, or the best staff or hours, but it served its purpose quite nicely. At that point, I would have done just about anything to avoid having to work out at the student rec center, which basically doubled as the set of a reality dating show/teenage beauty pageant.

Now, four years later, I am living and working in entirely different parts of Phoenix, and also have significantly less time to devote to exercise. I came to the conclusion that it made sense to quit Pure Fitness, and pledge allegiance to its key competitor, LA Fitness. LA has more locations, better hours and fancier clubs. They have a reputation of being more of a meat market gym, but if you can get past that, it’s a better deal. Naturally this realization resulted in a need to cut ties with Pure Fitness.

Easier.Said.Than.Done.

I’ve heard stories and jokes about the parallels between ending a gym membership and ending a relationship, and I now can vouch for the validity of those claims.

Attempt 1: On a Saturday afternoon I went into the gym, after finding out in advance that it was not possible to quit over the phone. I asked to end my membership and was told that this was not possible during the weekend. Why? The person who processes the cancellation paperwork is not in on weekends. Like any intelligent human being I asked why I couldn’t just fill out the forms and leave it for this person to process on Monday, and I was told it’s just not allowed. Mmmmk.

Attempt 2: On a Monday, I went into a different location and asked to end my membership. A man I’d never seen before was paged to the reception area, likely from a secret storage closet of salespeople, and asked me to sit down to talk this over with him. Oh boy.

Gym Guy: “Why are you thinking about ending your membership with us?”

Annoyed Jessica: “Locations…hours…equipment…You guys don’t have any locations close to my new house. Or my office for that matter. Your equipment is outdated and out of order, and your new hours are not as convenient as they used to be.”

Gym Guy: [shocked] “Really? Where do you live? And most of our equipment is new.”

Annoyed Jessica: “I live in Central Phoenix. And I work in North Phoenix. I’ve checked your Web site and there are no clubs within close proximity to either location. I’m also not happy with the equipment here. I’ve actually looked into three of your competitors and they all have newer equipment and fewer pieces out of order.”

Gym Guy: [now even more shocked] “Well that’s really surprising. Most of our stuff is new.”

Annoyed Jessica: “Yeah, you said that, but you have all the same cardio machines you’ve had since I joined four years ago! Your staff has been telling me for years it’ll be updated within the next six months, but here we are and it’s all the same.”

Gym Guy: [puffing his chest while unable to make eye contact] “I hope you don’t think you’re going to find a better deal anywhere else. If you think you’ll be happier at somewhere like LA Fitness you won’t be. You’ll be coming back here. I have people switching back all the time. We’re a friendlier gym and we really know our members.”

Annoyed Jessica: [not ok with empty threats] “I’ve been a member for four years, do you think one trainer in here knows my first name? No. “

Gym Guy: [getting serious] “Ok, I guess it’s your decision. So can you tell me one more time why you’re canceling?”

Annoyed Jessica: [through pursed lips]Hours. Locations. Equipment. Staff.

Eventually this dramatic little exchange ended in my favor. Somehow I’m still technically a member until the first week of June, but I still feel like it was a victory for the people. It must be hysterical when someone who works at a gym tries to buy a car, or vice versa; do the two powerful selling forces reflect each other like two magnets do?

I understand, but I don't get it.

When I left the gym yesterday it was member appreciation night. In addition to free chair massages and a few booths set up advertising healthy lifestyle choices, the gym had purchased several pizzas and was serving slices free to members. Granted, pizza is truly not that bad for you, considering many of the other temptations available to us, but it's also not generally a snack recommended for maintaining a healthy weight.

A dentist doesn't give you a Snickers when you leave, a counselor won't tell you to hang out with people who have caused you pain and a teacher won't tell you to go spend endless hours watching cartoons. In general, people don't facilitate the demise of what they have worked to correct or prevent.

I was discussing the irony of the situation with Jen as I drove home and she noted that her gym does the same thing but gives out hot dogs and steak on their version of member appreciation night. My first thought was that my gym is lame because they don't distribute fillet. My second thought was what on earth is wrong with these places throwing high calorie foods at members struggling to shed pounds.

As Jen put it, she could understand that pizza is cheap, and that people like free stuff, so the gym probably put those two facts together to generate the idea for free pizza night. That said, we can't get how this actually happens. Are carrot sticks and granola bars that much more money than hot dogs?

Phrase coined: "I understand, but I don't get it."

The more you think about it, the more this sentence explains every battle of head verses heart. You can often times logically understand why something has occurred when viewing it in black and white, but once you progress to think of it in a gray area, it can be difficult to fully grasp the reasoning behind something.

Even dictionary.com seems confused here. To understand: to have a systematic interpretation or rationale, as in a field or area of knowledge. To get: to acquire a mental grasp or command of; learn.

Getting buff in the buff

I have been going to the gym regularly since I was in high school and believe me; I've seen a lot of strange things go down. This ranges from the mildly strange, like people working out wearing jeans, to more extreme, with the random person who does Tai Chi in the middle of a crowded weight room. I've also seen bad things, like people passing during their first workout, people getting injured, and oh so many folks throwing up after intense training. Once, an enormous man asked me to hold 45-pound plates on his back while he did push ups. Naturally I obliged.

Regardless of which gym you attend and how sophisticated or rudimentary it may be, chances are you're always going to have access to a locker room. This is where my confusion arises.

Why is it that just because multiple people are going to exercise within the same complex, must we all undress in front of one another? It's not that I'm squeamish or overly modest. To tell you the truth, changing in the locker room doesn't faze me at all. It's just the fascination with who came up with this concept and why they felt it was appropriate.

Obviously there aren't too many places that involve large numbers of people simultaneously undressing, but if you consider retail dressing rooms, medical offices or massage studios, they all offer individual places to change. It's also interesting to consider that if you were to undress in front of other people anywhere public besides a locker room, you'd probably be arrested.

Understandably the layout of a locker room with individual changing areas would look something like a labyrinth, so maybe that's where the bullpen atmosphere originated, but I've always found it a little curious.