Fun and Laughs at the Gym


I really hate gyms. They’re really unpleasant places to me.

Don’t get me wrong. I am not anti exercise. I love to move. I love sports, and playing ball. But the gym is the weakest substitute for any of that. Its just a bizarre place. Plebeian, a friend called it. Eeeoowww. I don’t like plebeian.

People would be so much better off if they found ways to get togetrher and played sports with each other, instead of engaged in this strange guilt ridden, competitive, misguided approach to physical fitness pushed on us by marketers of memberships, makers of supplements, and third world apparel manufacturers.

Moaning, groaning, sweating, sighing, heaving, slumping. Nobody seems particularly happy in the gym. Not staff, trainers, members, or maintenance.

And why should they be? The managers have nothing to do but try and sell memberships to people who are inevitably going to under value the whole experience and drop off, or drop out.

The trainers are always underpaid and squeezing in the work between the two or three other gigs they’re struggling to hold down, while they live with two roommates, or still at home with Mom and Dad.

The members (That’d be us for the most part.) are struggling to find meaning in life by sweating on a cardio machine, lifting weights to prove something of a higher power to their existence. Or, in the case of the dumbbell dudes, just trying to get laid more by women and girls ten years younger, who amazingly find self worth hanging onto these guys in the first place. And those girls and women? Well, they are so pummeled by media ideas of beauty and health, that they can’t bear the idea of being five pounds heavier, two inches less busty, or eating ten more calories without putting on their bizarre show of knee jerk bouncing on the stair master, or fast walking on maximum incline on the treadmill. Ladies, girls, you look like a bunch of possessed nut cases. Will you calm the hell down already! You’re freaking me out!

Then there’s the music and media distractions. Omg. The worst. The pick of music says it all to me. That’s all I need to see and hear to know why I don’t belong in these places. Shallow grocery store hit music. And everyone is wearing headphones anyway listening to the same crap. Only louder.

Yea. I admit. I’m a sour grumpy grouch when it comes to gyms. I just wanna play. And what’s wrong with that?

You know who I believe really enjoy life and fitness? Not the people who go, or live in the gym, but athletes who live out of it. Not pros, amateurs, or some high level of organized team building obsessives. Just regular folks who somehow, some way, find themselves with others like them who do the same thing. People who actually engage in sports, rather than mimic it in the most primitive, isolated and lonely way possible by going to a gym.

I don’t mean the pseudo athletes who plaster their crotches on fifteen hundred dollar road bikes, or pound their joints with two hundred dollar sneakers all day either. It has¬†nothing to do with fluorescent lights, bad music, exhausting on a treadmill, obsessing on a single activity, or lifting weights to the point of pain.

Give me an hour of tennis, racquetball, softball, basketball, football, hiking, climbing, and walks in the wood. That is what life and physical activity is to me.

Fitness is so much more complicated now than it needs to be.


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  1. Pingback: Do this! NO, DO THIS! Not that! THIS! | Michael Bailey

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