5 Reasons Why I Love My Overpriced Gym

Posted at 5:00 AM Sep 19, 2008

By Bonnie Ruberg

Gyms inspire love/hate relationships. Joe Tone from westword.com recently published a list of the five things he hated about the new gym he joined: a 24 Hour Fitness, and the last in a long line of places where he has paid dues for six months and then quit: five and a half months after he stopped working out. While I think Tone's reasoning is sound -- the guys who work at gyms are ridiculous, full-of-crap salesmen and there's always the temptation to scarf down the calories you've burned in fries post-workout -- I for one love the sweaty, douchey, overpriced fitness club that I've called home since I moved to San Fran three months ago, even if sometimes spending too long on the elliptical trainer does make me feel like a hamster in a wheel. Here's why:

5. I could build a fort out of all the complimentary toiletries and towels.

At my old gym back in the East Village, I paid $50 a month for the right to work out, shower, and occasionally use the hair dryers someone had once forgotten in the girl's locker room. At my new gym, a shiny, well-kept Club One Fitness, I pay $60 a month for the ability to bathe myself from head to toe in generic, mediocre, largely odorless moisturizer.

Let me explain: My new gym not only plays classical music in the locker room, it also provides us patrons with free moisturizer, Q-tips, shampoo, conditioner, body soap, cotton balls, and towels. Oh, the towels. Often they are still warm from the dryer. No, none of those things are top-of-the-line. But the fact that they come with membership makes them so much more enjoyable. They almost make up for the fact that I so can't afford my gym.

4. I can zone out to my pain -- and upbeat pop music.

Contrary to what people might think about the life of a freelance writer who works from her living room, I don't have a lot of down time to hang out and zone. Going to the gym gives me an excuse to just stop thinking for a while, or at least the hour between 6:30 and 7:30 on Thursdays when I'm taking my spin class. The fact of the matter is that class kicks my ass too hard for me to think. And I like it.

Another plus: the soundtrack the instructor plays. I don't really listen to the radio, broadcast television, or do just about anything that exposes normal human beings to popular music. That's partially because I'm an indie rock snob. But for 60 minutes each week I get to pump my aching thighs to whatever meaningless, catchy tunes have been preselected to get my blood flowing. As for me, I'm too busy wiping down my sweaty body with a complimentary towel to complain.

3. I get to hang out with somebody's naked Japanese grandma.

I love my gym because it has not only a hot tub, but also a sauna and a steam room. All of these things are filled at all times of the day with elderly, Japanese-American women who like to hang out completely naked. Point of information: my gym is near San Francisco's Japantown, where there are a number of semi-expensive Japanese spas that also include this combo of hot tub, sauna, and steam room, if in a slightly fancier setting. The ladies at my gym have just found a cheaper equivalent.

At first I thought these gals were a bit batty: they lounge, they sigh a lot, and they sit around the locker room for hours reading magazines. Who'd want to do that? That was before I went to a proper Japanese spa myself, then brought the ritual back to my gym. Suddenly I realized I was doing exactly what they were. Once they realized it, too, they started giving me tips on how to keep the steam room steamy. I feel initiated, if less saggy.

2. I get to swim in a pool without Band-Aids floating in it.

Swimming is like running for people who hate to sweat. It's also like running for people who are far more awkward on land than in water -- me, for example. When I meet new people and I don't know what to do with myself, I try to explain that I'm better suited for a liquid environment. Somehow that often doesn't help.

Anyways, not only does my over-priced gym have a pool, it has a pool that actually gets cleaned. As someone who's spent too many desperate summer days in public pools, this seems like a crucial difference. Never -- and I'm knocking on wood here -- have I seen a lost Band-Aid come floating toward me in the water. Never have I had a child jump on me while swimming laps. And never have I felt a warm spot and wondered, "Did that guy just...?"

1. I'm never the least athletic one in the room.

Yes, I'm shallow and self-conscious, but it always makes me feel better to see I'm not the pudgiest, saddest excuse for a gym-goer in the place. My gym always has a nice assortment of body sizes. Of course, there are the ridiculous, over-worked, lean women with perfectly sculpted asses and forearms that scare small children -- but there are also older women going for power walks on the treadmills, heavyset men huffing along on the stationary bikes, etc.

Back in New York, there used to be a 15-year-old blond who came into the gym the same time as me every day. She'd stand on the elliptical trainer in front of mine, talk on her cell phone the entire time, and bitch about how out of shape everyone around her was. She looked like she weighed 85 pounds. I thought about eating her, but then figured she'd taste bitter and stringy. Now that girl is nowhere to be found. Even better, because it means more free moisturizer for me.