Post by George on Mar 21, 2014 8:09:54 GMT -5
A female friend of mine who hit fifty last week asked me to go with her to a recently opened planet fitness to show her how to use some of the "machines" and help get a program together. She is allowed to bring a guest, and today was bench day so I figured why not. From the rip I told her I usually don't like commercial gyms but would be happy to go. Just yesterday, I read a few articles about the place, namely a female being asked to cover her "intimidatingly toned" body more, and another about a guy being kicked out of there for "grunting".
I tried to keep an open mind. We met there early, around 630. The place, surprisingly, was fairly busy. Walking in, it was impressively clean, seem stocked, had all the typical commercial fanfare of a tanning bed selection, juice and protein cooler, front desk full of high on personality with no signs of fitness employees, rows of cardio and tons of machines. So far I wasn't so out of my element. In the back were station rooms, one labeled "stretching and abs', the other "the thirty minute workout" and I cant remember the third. The connection to the show "Biggest loser" was in your face, with a lot of things labeled "as seen on....".
Out of forty or so patrons, 35 were women. Five guys, three elderly, two, for lack of a better word, obviously untrained. All of the machines and cardio equipment were a feminine purple color.
We began hopping from machine to machine based on what she would want to workout. She mentioned legs. First thing I think of is squatting, 50 and female be damned. I look over, there are three of what appeared to be squat racks. I was happy. We walked up to them, and they were sure enough fixed plane smith machine squat racks. I mentioned them not being a prime thing and began looking for a consolation. She's 5'5" and 100lbs. Dumbbell squats would probably be enough. I show her how to use the extension and hamstring machine. So far, for her, things looked ok. She started a circuit of the three, so I decide its time for me to lift.
There was no stand alone bench press. Only option would be using a flat bench with the smith machine. I did not even entertain the idea, and thought a round of dumbbell presses would be good. They had dumbbells...to 75lbs. Distraught, I turned to a press machine that was only pin plated to 160lbs each side. For entertainment, I used my pointer and middle finger and did a set of fifteen each arm. I then gave up.
I walked up to her and said I can't work out here. None of the machines have enough weight and the only free weight I can use is the smith machine and my form would be all over the place. At this point, I looked up at a huge sign on the wall which read "No Lunks", describing a lunk as a tank top wearing, grunting lifter who drank from a gallon jug. I look to my left and right and see signs which read "No gymtimidation" and "judgment free zone".
Bottom line, the target demographic was getting what they needed. Obviously, I am not welcome there. This place totally changed my thinking on the commercial gyms I used to make fun of in the past...at least they catered to all I guess by having actual squat racks and bench presses and dumbbells in triple digits. Those "lunks"....I need them for entertainment. I need the guy curling in the squat rack. I will never again poke fun at a normal commercial gym. Like Sean Connery said in Indiana Jones 3, I felt like a "pilgrim in an unholy land". And if I am now praising a commercial gym, you better believe I cannot wait to get back to my dusty abode above a small town firehouse. My weights are showing some aging, with chips and some rust. My squat rack is chewed up from racking or missing loads. The equipment I got from the school years ago was reconditioned with bus seat covers. There is so much tape on the preacher curl that if you don't put a towel or shirt across the top it will rip your armpit hair out or your shirt will stick. The lighting is hit or miss, same with the heat. I'm often alone or with three kids, with a radio that gets poor reception leaving 80's or 90's rock cd's. Such a contrast to Planet Fitness. But you know what? When I go there her ein a few minutes to bench, I may actually kiss the matt and apologize for even thinking I could cheat by venturing out.
I tried to keep an open mind. We met there early, around 630. The place, surprisingly, was fairly busy. Walking in, it was impressively clean, seem stocked, had all the typical commercial fanfare of a tanning bed selection, juice and protein cooler, front desk full of high on personality with no signs of fitness employees, rows of cardio and tons of machines. So far I wasn't so out of my element. In the back were station rooms, one labeled "stretching and abs', the other "the thirty minute workout" and I cant remember the third. The connection to the show "Biggest loser" was in your face, with a lot of things labeled "as seen on....".
Out of forty or so patrons, 35 were women. Five guys, three elderly, two, for lack of a better word, obviously untrained. All of the machines and cardio equipment were a feminine purple color.
We began hopping from machine to machine based on what she would want to workout. She mentioned legs. First thing I think of is squatting, 50 and female be damned. I look over, there are three of what appeared to be squat racks. I was happy. We walked up to them, and they were sure enough fixed plane smith machine squat racks. I mentioned them not being a prime thing and began looking for a consolation. She's 5'5" and 100lbs. Dumbbell squats would probably be enough. I show her how to use the extension and hamstring machine. So far, for her, things looked ok. She started a circuit of the three, so I decide its time for me to lift.
There was no stand alone bench press. Only option would be using a flat bench with the smith machine. I did not even entertain the idea, and thought a round of dumbbell presses would be good. They had dumbbells...to 75lbs. Distraught, I turned to a press machine that was only pin plated to 160lbs each side. For entertainment, I used my pointer and middle finger and did a set of fifteen each arm. I then gave up.
I walked up to her and said I can't work out here. None of the machines have enough weight and the only free weight I can use is the smith machine and my form would be all over the place. At this point, I looked up at a huge sign on the wall which read "No Lunks", describing a lunk as a tank top wearing, grunting lifter who drank from a gallon jug. I look to my left and right and see signs which read "No gymtimidation" and "judgment free zone".
Bottom line, the target demographic was getting what they needed. Obviously, I am not welcome there. This place totally changed my thinking on the commercial gyms I used to make fun of in the past...at least they catered to all I guess by having actual squat racks and bench presses and dumbbells in triple digits. Those "lunks"....I need them for entertainment. I need the guy curling in the squat rack. I will never again poke fun at a normal commercial gym. Like Sean Connery said in Indiana Jones 3, I felt like a "pilgrim in an unholy land". And if I am now praising a commercial gym, you better believe I cannot wait to get back to my dusty abode above a small town firehouse. My weights are showing some aging, with chips and some rust. My squat rack is chewed up from racking or missing loads. The equipment I got from the school years ago was reconditioned with bus seat covers. There is so much tape on the preacher curl that if you don't put a towel or shirt across the top it will rip your armpit hair out or your shirt will stick. The lighting is hit or miss, same with the heat. I'm often alone or with three kids, with a radio that gets poor reception leaving 80's or 90's rock cd's. Such a contrast to Planet Fitness. But you know what? When I go there her ein a few minutes to bench, I may actually kiss the matt and apologize for even thinking I could cheat by venturing out.
