Gymrats: The Movie
I’m considering writing a short story based on one of the most colorful, quirky, and unique subcultures on the planet. I’m talking about the gym crowd.
My wife and I were reflecting on this yesterday while walking the dogs. You see, after approximately 215 days, 4 hours, and 17 minutes of gym-less-ness (but who’s counting?), we recently made our return to the land of free weights, incline benches, and stair steppers.
Return is actually the wrong word. Pre-all-hell-breaking-loose (i.e. March), we split our time between the Peterson Air Force Base gym and the Fort Carson gyms. The two bases are equidistant from our home, a convenient 15 minute drive in opposite directions. Yes, we were spoiled: free admission, easy access, great equipment, with a host of hardcore athletes and military heroes who provided constant motivation.
Post-end-of-the-world-as-we-knew-it (i.e. March, also), it was “No gym for you!” This terrifying situation stretched for approximately an eon, give or take a half a millennium. Then, in July, the base gyms began to open back up. Slowly. Reluctantly. With copious amounts of sanitizer, temperature checks, mandatory masks, reduced hours, and... only for active duty soldiers and airmen. Dang it!
More months passed - each of them feeling more like decades - and finally, at long last, the gym bases started allowing veterans and spouses. The problem? They only permitted our kind between the hours of “Who the heck can work out then??” and “Hey, we’ve got jobs!” It was, and continues to be, an impossibility.
I was beginning to lose hope of ever seeing a dumbbell again, except in the mirror, and was struggling to be content with my prison workout: hefting gas cans and Lowe’s buckets and ancient weights in the garage, using rickety old wooden sawhorses to do pathetic bodyweight exercises.
Yes, I was desperate. I had a Roman numeral birthday bearing down on me like a ballistic missile and wasn’t ready to throw in the proverbial towel. I needed physical activity! So I adapted, persevered, and complained. Mostly the latter.
That’s when my wife, in her wisdom, kindness, and generosity, gave me a birthday present aimed at ending the groaning and moaning. She got us gym memberships to a nearby Crunch Fitness. YES!!!
What about COVID? you might be wondering. It’s dicey, you’re thinking. Being around all those huffing and puffing muscle hounds sounds like a good way to get the Rona, right? Maybe. But here’s the thing: I don’t care!
Before anyone has a stroke, let me assure you we wear masks at all times, clean every piece of equipment with a disinfectant wipe, wash our hands religiously, and use sanitizer when entering and exiting the facility, and also when we get home. We’re taking precautions.
Sure, there’s still a risk, but it’s a risk worth taking. I don’t want to get sick or get anyone else sick. But I really (REALLY) need the activity. Not just for physical fitness purposes. For stress relief and cabin fever relief.
Getting outside of your own small-and-getting-smaller-by-the-minute home that you have seldom left for forever and a day is liberating, invigorating, and intoxicating. It’s also entertaining when your destination is the gym. In addition to getting a good workout with bona fide, this-century equipment, there’s also the people factor. Which brings me back to my original point: gyms are full of strange and amusing characters.
Our previous home gyms (sniff-sniff, RIP), had a fascinating array of folks: the guy with the pink shoes, the girl with shoulders wider than the Hulk, the dude who was ALWAYS hogging the Smith machine, those zany, compulsive CrossFitters, the guy who looked EXACTLY like Chance the Rapper, the always energetic Zumba ladies...
Getting outside of your own small-and-getting-smaller-by-the-minute home that you have seldom left for forever and a day is liberating, invigorating, and intoxicating. It’s also entertaining when your destination is the gym.
We quickly realized that our new gym had its own set of fearfully and wonderfully made exercise-crazed individuals. On our walk, my wife casually asked, “Have you figured out who the regulars are?” By this she meant the gymrats - the people who are there whenever the doors are open. Every gym has them.
The answer was, of course, a huge yes. In just over a week at Crunch, we had both pegged the rats and could accurately describe them. Our conversation went something like this.
“Have you seen the guy with the compression shirt and the weight belt?”
“The huge guy with the bag?”
“Yeah. He’s massive! What about that one girl on the treadmill.”
“With the hair and the glasses?”
(Nodding.)
“Or the really short, bald guy with the buff?”
“Hangs around the cable machines?”
“Yep.”
“And the couple that shows up right before we leave?”
“She’s thin, has a ponytail?”
(Nodding).
“What about the guy with the headband and the monster calves?”
“Works out with the younger guy...? Maybe it’s his brother?”
“Pretty sure it’s his brother.”
“And the girl in the CrossFit area...”
“The one with the sports bra and the yoga pants...?’
“Yes!”
“Then there’s the couple - she’s short and he’s tall, kind of heavy...”
“The ones that were in the dance room?”
“Yeah.”
“You think they’re married?”
“I don’t know. It’s hard to tell.”
“Those two skinny guys who are always doing pullups?”
“Yeah.”
“What about those newbies...?”
“Oh, you mean the blond - Mr. Super Gringo, red shoes... She’s a hot Mexican chick, wears an Army baseball cap...”
“What is their deal? They don’t even look like they go together!”
“Seriously, what is up with them?”
Now that I think about it, this has the makings of a sitcom. No wait, a movie! I could write the screenplay - the exploits and interactions of an assortment of muscleheads, fitness nuts, and oddball exercise enthusiasts as they seek to find meaning in the land of iron plates, squat racks, and treadmills.
I’ll call it Gymrats. The Rock can play the big bodybuilder guy. The CrossFit girl could be played by Margo Robbie. Danny DeVito as the short, bald guy. The Gringo... hmm... maybe Chris Pratt. And Eva Mendes as the Mexican chick...!
Just need a good slogan for the trailer. Let’s see: Gymrats: Fit happens... or... It will all workout... May the weights be with you... In the gym, everyone can hear you scream...
Oh, yeah. This could work.