The Public Gym Chronicles

I grew up on a farm in Texas. I was never in athletics in school, and I only really started 'working out' a little over a year ago, right after we came home from our Central American Expedition. I spent mornings jogging along country roads, just me and the animals and the occasional passing vehicle. I lifted free weights in my house, never for an audience of more than my family. Now I live in NYC, and I've met a fascinating beast: The Public Gym.

Granted, my gym is complimentary and in a hotel. But never underestimate the amount of characters you can encounter in here. Let's break them down, shall we?

First you got your studs. These are the guys and girls you really only see once or twice, but that have somehow managed to tone their bodies into perfectly sculpted statues. They know all the moves. They've mastered the weight machines, they know what on-the-floor exercises to do, they never really get sweaty, and, if they run or bike or eliptical, they look great doing it. Meanwhile the rest are left to gawk enviously at them as we pretend that we are just as adept at the gym.

Next, don't give me hate for this, is none other than your giant black guy. Do not call me stereotypical, I have seen to many of them in the short time I've lived here. Huge, intimidating giant-men, they don't use the cardio equipment, but dominate the weights. They are all over those things, pumping, pumping, pumping, and they make sure and leave their mark too- these guys NEVER wipe down the equipment after they use it. You can clearly tell when one of these breed have been around because each and every weight machine is drenched in sticky sweat. Ew. I suppose I could broaden this category to include all the middle-aged men, but let's be real. I'm talking about the black guys. The white guys just sweat all over the treadmills as they try to run their middle age away.

After that we have what I like to call the Wannabe Frat Pack- large groups of college-age guys who all come to the gym together with the best of intentions but quickly reveal that they have no idea what they're doing and are far too interested in each other to really get anything done. Unfortunately this makes for a crowded gym, with skinny white boys scrambling around from machine to machine. This group has a girls variation as well, but with a slight difference: The large groups of girls that come together don't even really put up a pretense of working out. They just spread all the mats out in the corner and camp out there. Somehow I find this much more tolerable. Hello ladies....

Last, but most certainly not least, you have the new guy (or girl). They've just moved to NYC (I'm taking some dramatic license, they might have been here for years), and they're turning their life around, baby. This guy is actually at the gym for the right reason: he's running, biking, and elipticalling away, lifting weights as best he can (which is not so great) and sweating up a storm; he's working out. I like this guy. And he always wipes down the equipment after he uses it.

And then there's me. Quietly jogging on the treadmill as I watch The View, and trying to figure out the best way to utilize the weight equipment. All these fancy machines are nice, but I miss my homestyle workout. Push-ups on the floor are still better than the dumb "sitting bench press" that they have. Still, I see a lot more interesting people this way; I've just outlined the major groups. There are always those that fit no category. Such as the man running on the treadmill in Middle Eastern robes, a turban, and a full beard. I tell you no lie.