For many years, I’ve maintained a VIP membership at a gym in Orange County.
As part of that membership I had access to the VIP locker room. This was not the locker room you’d be familiar with if you attend a “normal” gym.
This locker room was all wood. It had a private Jacuzzi, wet & dry saunas, private access to the pool, and ample sinks and mirrors, where it was not uncommon to see 8 to 10 men shaving in the morning and often in the evenings if they were going out on a date.
We all had private lockers, towel service, the gym would wash our dirty workout clothes and leave them in our lockers when finished. There was fresh coffee, and fresh fruit available in a lounge area that seated 10 around a big screen TV usually tuned to the financial news or on weekends to one of the various games. They even had a place where you could drop off your laundry and pick it up a couple days later all conveniently billed to your Gym account with a monthly itemized statement delivered to your locker.
Occasionally one of the guys would bring his son or sons into the gym and the locker room to change clothes, or shower after father and son(s) worked out or used the pool. No-one paid any mind as long as the youngster wasn’t misbehaving. It was a place of Men.
In a time when places for Men were disappearing and feminism was taking it’s toll on even Barber Shops, it was a place that was a welcome sanctuary from the hubbub of the business day. I can’t count how many business deals I heard being closed in the lounge chairs over coffee or a cool post workout smoothie.
I spent many happy hours in that locker room. Sometimes finishing a report for work, but more often just starting my day there.
I’d drive to the gym, workout, shower, shave, have breakfast, then walk across the street to work. Sometimes I’d start and end my day at the gym, using cardio to burn the frustrations of the day away waiting for traffic to die down.
The gym had regular locker-rooms for men and women too. But I was worth the added expense and really enjoyed the VIP locker room because it was always quiet and comfortable. I guess you could call it a “Safe Space”.
The Gym itself had a pro shop, dining area, the usual array of weight machines, free weight areas, racquet ball and basketball courts, spin classes, yoga, aerobic studios, conference rooms (that you could reserve a month in advance), a hair salon, child care for the kids who were too young or not interested in working out with Dad or Mom. It was a big place and for a time, only the best of the best trainers got to work there.
While trying to figure out when the Gym would re-open due to COVID I discovered that my gym would never re-open.
24 Hour Fitness is in bankruptcy and apparently my gym was one of the casualties of their default, 130 gyms in all.
There’d been no notice, no email, no letter… nothing. This left me wondering where, when, and how I’d get my things from my locker. I tried calling corporate and all I got was a recording telling me that due to COVID there was no one to talk to. I wrote a strongly worded letter to corporate and heard nothing.
Last Friday, I got an email from 24 Hour Fitness telling me that I needed to call the number provided as soon as possible, to collect my things. I called the number Monday and made arrangements to drive down to grab my gear.
It almost wasn’t worth it. One shoe, my workout clothes, racquet balls, and all my toiletries were missing. They did manage to get my shower shoes, my racquet ball racquet, and my favorite yoga mat into a big plastic trash bag. They had no idea about the other items or why they’d not made it into the bag. Except for the racquet, the drive to OC was almost not worth making.
24 Hour Fitness, is giving me a great rate on their All Gym package in consideration of the closure. I can literally go to any of their gyms which is no different than what my membership always provided.
It won’t be the same. I’ll have to hump my shit to and from the gym, fiddle with a padlock and remember what locker I put my shit in when I’m done with my workout. I know this is the normal way gyms work but I’ve tasted better, and I liked it. I liked walking into the gym like a zombie, getting my stuff out of my locker dressing to work out and actually waking up at some point during my workout. I liked going to the locker room and having a cup of coffee before I showered and got on with my day.
That’s all a thing of the past now. I haven’t made any decision yet about the membership. I think it’s best to let the wound scab over a bit.
The gym where I picked up my stuff was strange. No music, no TVs. It’s a nice place, but felt strange. People on cardio machines with their masks on, their earbuds in their ears listening to their own groove from phones or pads in front of them. Few people were using the weights, and those who’d completed their workouts left the gym sweaty and disheveled. The locker room was empty as I made my way through to the bathroom. It was like a weird movie. Everyone silent and isolated, even in a crowd.
I’m not sure that I’ll be maintaining the membership. I don’t like this version of “Normal”
It occurred to me that I have no ties left with OC other than one remaining friend there.
OC used to be a big part of my world. I worked there, my doctor was there, I drank there, and played there. Now OC is just another place that I used to know, but don’t goto anymore. Los Angeles, Hollywood, and The Valley all have this same feeling. Places I used to goto but don’t anymore. Palm Springs is starting to feel like this too. Distant, broken, alien.
I’m beginning to think, for me, this is more than COVID fatigue. It’s something deeper.