Something Strange Is Afoot

There is something that circulates in the aromatherapy-scented air of my gym that is intoxicating, addictive. There's absolutely no other reason why I would feel as though it is a respite to go there every day, why I dream of the locker room replete with lotions and body washes and classical music softly piped in on Bose speakers. No real explanation for why I am addicted to the awesomely hardcore alternative music rocking out the cardio room while a staff member hands out warm towels for us to wipe our sweaty necks. And the classes- do I want to take African Dance? Iyengar yoga? Urban rebounding? Stott pilates? Yes, yes, a thousand times yes! Sign me up. Sign me up for all of it. Why? Because I can.

What exactly is it that makes this gym more hypnotic than a room full of pendulum pocket watches? I couldn't tell you. I mean, yeah, so I pay $80 a month to luxuriate in the eucalyptus steam room. That's just money, right? And yes, they have a giant whirlpool and a sauna and an eMac in case you need to check your email while at the gym. And I guess running on a treadmill in a warm gym with a personal tv playing first-run movies beats running outside in the arctic cold on the uneven bike path.

But I have a feeling that it's something more. I think it all comes down to my last experience at the Ghetto Gym. At the Ghetto Gym, I would be interrupted during my run by the owner asking me if I could answer the phone and check people in while he went out to pick up his son. The Ghetto Gym was housed on the second floor of a large warehouse with no air conditioning while indoor soccer and lacrosse leagues screamed below. The Ghetto Gym had toilets that overflowed into the locker room on a daily basis and a staff that watched movies upstairs in the breakroom while their friends came and went, stopping in only to grunt at you in your tank top and take a swig of Red Bull before departing. The Ghetto Gym was the ninth circle of gym hell and I've finally made it to the big gym heaven in the sky. Thank you, Gods of Fitness.