equal opportunity sweating

I joined Women’s Workout World (W3) several months ago for a few reasons. First, my friend Kim has a membership at a different branch, which meant that we would be able to work out together on occasion. Second, I can access it by train, foot, and bike. Third, the price was right. After some upfront fees, I only have to pay $23/month. The only other gyms that can compete with that aren’t easy to access from my neighborhood. I was unemployed, so the choice was pretty much made for me!


My love/hate relationship with W3 has expanded beyond my expectations. To start, it is of course a women’s workout world, so no men are allowed. In fact, they’re announced over the loudspeaker if they have to come inside for maintenance reasons. In the absence of penises, you can instead find an abundance of camel toe. Because at W3, we don’t give a F*#K!

(But seriously, it is nice to not constantly wonder if you’re nipping or egregiously sweating in weird places. Those things are perfectly acceptable here.)

Another standout of W3 (Where Wedgies are Welcome) is that every time I go, I feel like I’ve just walked on the set of "Muslims, Ellipticals, and Other Things That Look Weird Together." In a row of crappy outdated machines, you will find anyone from a triathlete to someone you want to high-five just for showing up. Some people are in track suits and others are in slacks. Some people are grandmas and most are minorities. It is a strange combination of race, socioeconomic status, religion, age, and fitness level.


To be honest, it’s pretty uplifting to see people that don’t look like they belong in a gym, persay, who are trying to improve their lifestyles and get out of their comfort zones. Isn’t that the kind of place you want to be a part of? Where people don’t have to feel like they can’t show up because they don’t have the right clothes or have no idea how to operate a treadmill? Because that’s totally the kind of place I want to support. I did a few hot yoga classes at a shi-shi-poo-poo studio downtown and honestly, the plethora of whiteness and Lululemon made me uncomfortable. It was like we’d all come to the same place because it felt “right” and we knew we’d make friends and have a really great workout that we totally couldn’t get anywhere else. I’m not saying I wouldn’t go there again (in fact, I’m thinking about getting a month-long pass), but in terms of diversifying my experiences, going there is a backwards step.

That being said.

There is a “room” for group classes at W3 (Who Wants Walls?). It’s a carpeted square riiiiight in the middle of all the machines. So 2-3 times a night, the rest of us get the absolute pleasure of watching, listening to, and generally being subjected to the music/instructions. I guess this wouldn’t be so bad if the volume wasn’t permanently set on DIE EARDRUMS.

Listening to your own playlist during a class is a complete joke. Speakers rattle and the bass reverbs as they pump it, they move it, they shake it, they push it! The best I can hope for is that I will channel my hatred into my own workout.

I’ve asked a few times why it’s so loud and if other people complain, and I never get a straight answer. I have no clue why the instructor can’t tell that she’s screaming, or why anyone in the classes…and thus closer to the speakers…don’t say anything. I feel like I’m the only person in the whole frigging gym who is even tuned into this planet, because WHY DOES NO ONE FIND THIS HORRIBLY DISRUPTIVE.

Yes, I’ve tried to schedule my workouts for when there are no classes. But since they close at 9 p.m. on weekdays and FOUR P.M. (count it) on weekends, I’m lucky to even make it there in the first place.

The elliptical-pedaling Muslims are not leaving me much choice. No matter how cheap it is, I can’t go to a gym for a stress relief and leave so mad I’d kick a puppy.
(JK I’d never kick a puppy)
(Unless it was leading a group class at W3)

I sort of love my gym. I don’t want to resign myself to a more mainstream place where everyone looks like they belong and men freely walk around without announcements over the loudspeaker (although I’ll obviously suggest this). I don’t really want to switch gyms at all, but what’s a girl to do? Last week I tried out the closest one to my house. It’s small, local, new, quiet, and it has TVs, men, whiteys, and acceptable hours. It’s twice as expensive as half as interesting, but I walked away without an aural assault, and these days, that’s a win.

Future membership: TBD!