The empty gym...
Well, it’s January, the month in which everyone makes New Year’s promises about improving their health, their lives, their…whatever you can think of.
The building where I work has a new gym in it. In an embarrassment of riches, my company bought everyone a gym membership. Only about half of our approximately 75 on-site workers have taken advantage of the offer. Perhaps they find it easier to work out at home, or at another gym, or not at all.
At first, I thought I could not join because I did not have the personal number required by the online application. (I have a number now but I didn’t then.) But I called up the gym’s representative and he said it wasn’t a problem since it was my workplace that was paying for it and therefore they were the responsible party.
I haven’t been to the gym nearly as many lunchtimes as I should. There, it’s out there. I admit it. Now that you know of my deficiencies, I will be compelled to go to the gym every day. Just like Kate knows she must work on her novel because she has announced it to the world.
Hallooo...anyone home?
The thing I find amazing about this particular gym is that there is rarely someone there. I don’t mean they aren’t people working out—although there aren’t too many of those either—but I mean someone in charge. There is a locked door to get in and members have a keycard with their picture on it. But this particular gym has no supervisor 99% of the time. I am amazed there is no worry about anyone carrying off equipment—small weights, medicine balls, that kind of thing. I think there are probably video cameras but still, this surprises me.
The gym has a nearly all-glass front that faces the street. It’s the sort of set-up you often see where passers-by can look in and see all the sweaty people. I suppose, like a noisy restaurant, it’s designed to make you want to join the crowd. We are herd animals, after all.
The glass front is less enchanting if you’re the one working out. I don’t particularly want to be an advertisement in the window. (Of course, this is not such a problem since I, uh, haven’t been going to the gym.) In any case, there are two bands of frosted glass at eye height that somewhat obscure the view into the gym. You can see that someone is in there working out but you can’t quite see who it is.
The women’s changing room is a little unusual. It’s a medium-sized room with two open showers and the strange thing is that when the door to the changing room opens, the whole gym and by extension the street, can see into the changing room. So if you’re in there alone changing and someone suddenly opens the door…hello, Stockholm!
I removed the gym name from the frosted window in this picture so that we are not advertising them...but you get the general idea of how people can look in from the street...
