Monday, January 10, 2005

Sweatin’ with the beautiful people

I am a member of the sweetest gym that has ever existed in the history of mankind. Seriously. Never before has a gym been so entertaining, in workout and in membership, yet so effective.

The concept behind my gym is high energy, high intensity, boredom busting, forget-you-want-to-die workouts.

All of the classes are rooted in boxing and kickboxing; you do a lot of punching and kicking in bag workouts (where there’s a punching bag for everyone in the class) as well as in the classes geared more towards strictly cardiovascular work (where you end up punching at the open space in front of you while sweating your metaphorical balls off).

The entire concept of the gym is also deeply, deeply rooted in club culture. Classes are put to the techno that is played at volumes that necessitate earplugs for those who are actually intelligent enough to care about preserving their hearing (myself not included). There are black lights. The cardio room has a deejay booth so the gym’s owner (the only instructor who uses it) can pretend that he’s an emerging hip-hop artist in addition to the brains behind the self-proclaimed “hottest workout in the metro area.”

My gym is a modified rave for suburban housewives, if you will.

And it’s only made better by the fact that it’s in one of the richest cities in one of the top-five wealthiest counties in America. I don’t just work out with suburban housewives; I work out with ungodly wealthy suburban housewives. Who drive up in their Escalades, dressed in their DKNY tracksuits, babbling on their cell phones about the trying experience that was canceling a manicure to take Sierra and MacKenzie to ballet because the nanny was ill.

I won’t paint them all with the same brush. But, largely, they’re variations on the same theme. Some work. Some don’t have kids. Some work out in ratty spandex shorts that should’ve been left back in 1982. Some drive Navigators instead of Escalades. I distinguish them by their ever-rotating hair color, their accent, the grunts they make in the locker room, they shoes they wear and how friendly they are (or aren’t) in the locker room.

Some stand out more than others. You’ll see.


Plantation said...

What? No mention of your workout outfit? I was expecting something in black...

A said...

GUILTY. I wore all black on Monday.

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