Join a gym and stand around

For only $5 down you can have the washboard stomach, bulging biceps and ability to wear spandex you've always wanted. You will also be immediately surrounded by barely clad, stick-thin women with bowling ball-size breasts which apparently develop from exercising while wearing full makeup. I'm making these assumptions based on the often-run commercials for the nationwide health club franchise I chose to join. Though the ads for this particular chain make only the $5 down claim and merely imply the rest, my experience with them has shown that it's difficult to attain anything promised in the commercial.

Never mind that my "$5 down" turned into $5 plus three months membership at $68 a pop, and forget that the women shown in the spot represent a biological impossibility. But, even if we dismiss those particular exaggerations as within "poetic" license, the commercial still presents an unlikely scenario. Attaining the body shown in the ads, it would seem to me (and remember, I know very little about exercise), requires steady access to gym equipment. While this may not guarantee success, it would likely be a lot more effective than standing around waiting for machines to become free.

Unfortunately, this particular exercise giant has spent way too much money, at least in New York, on membership recruitment and very little on improved facilities. They have also aggressively expanded, building high-tech fitness centers in all sorts of places that are not very close to my apartment. Though I'm sure the total number of exercise machines the company owns more than satisfies the needs of its members, I have found flying to the gym in Akron, Ohio an inefficient way to work out. Even if I had a jet at my disposal, I doubt that trekking to treadmills in different states would be a logical, cost-effective plan.

Even as it has become more and more difficult to secure time on treadmills, elliptical riders and other desirable exercise equipment, my particular branch of this chain continues to sign up new members. Soon the crowd in front of each machine will look like the ladies' room at Lilith Fair on free wine spritzer night, but the cavalcade of new people continues unabated. Complaining about the lack of facilities, which requires you to tear a sales associate away from yet another new registrant, brings little satisfaction. These commission-based, muscle-headed goons wonder why anyone would have a problem with being unable to "pack" a one-hour workout into a two-hour visit. Apparently the solution to my problem comes in getting a job at the gym, which would allow me to work out the four or five hours a day required to make my neck bigger than my head. After that, I would have no interest in cardiovascular machines and would spend my non-working hours curling Volkswagen-size dumbbells in front of a mirror while checking out my own massive girth.

Unfortunately, gym jobs pay pretty poorly, hardly enough to keep me in baggy, elastic-waistband muscle pants and protein shakes, so it seems unlikely I'll follow that route anytime soon. The good news is that I have a three-year, non-cancelable membership.

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Last Updated: 06/01/00
WebMistress: Cathie Walker
Author: Daniel Kline
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