Fitness Studio

---

Since high school I have paid dues to three different gyms. All the gyms had clean, tiled showers and shiny fresh smelling locker rooms. They had rows of gleaming equipment and multiple floors, and offered free mediocre group classes that promised perfect fitness. I got so used to these competitive gym styles that I didn’t realize gyms could be any other way.

When I first walk into a gym, they immediately offer me a free three day trial. I am handed a business card and a flimsy cardboard pass, and the man in the black shirt (always a man) who gave it to you scribbles his name on it. You walk onto the exercise floor, run on the elliptical, lift some weights, do some stretches, gather your things and begin to head out. The man who offered you the free trials stops you at the door, beckons you into his office, and pulls out a chair for you.

He asks how the workout went.
“Fine.”
How did you like the equipment?
It was like every other gym I’ve been to. “It was very nice.”
This is when the man in the black shirt tells me the price I get to pay to continue to work out at the nice gym. He tells me that since I’m a student, they can give me a whole five dollars off a month. I can set up my account so that it automatically charges my visa on the first of every month. If I sign up for a year in advance I get a small amount off the total price. If I pay for a year in advance I get a little bit more.
“Don’t I have two more free days before I sign up?”
Apparently not.
I give them my credit card information, my full name, my birthday, and the soul of my first born child. I sign here, and here, and here, and there. Oh, and there. They politely sign me up for my fitness assessment and meeting with the nutritionist. Bring a water bottle and proper shoes.

A few days later I meet with my fitness assessor. They take my height and weight. They measure every part of my body and write it down. They ask what my fitness goals are.
“Do you want to lose weight, gain muscle, or just improve overall health?”
They measure what the most amount of weight I can handle on every machine is (it’s not very high, at first). They measure my poor, pathetic, cardio output. They write all my measurements down on a piece of paper on a clipboard.
They sit me down in the office. They tell me I’m out of shape, they make me feel fat and small and inadequate. This is how they sell you the personal training.

“Personal training costs $60 a session, at a minimum of two sessions a week. This is the only way to see results. If you buy more all at once, it ends up costing less. How many sessions would you like to sign up for?”
I signed up for a year.

North American fitness studios are a capitalist scam. They do not care about your overall health, they just want your money. People who sign up for a year in advance often do so in January, as a New Year’s Resolution. By September, they’ve stopped going. The gym is still charging their credit card every month. Personal trainers do not need to see you multiple times a week for the best results. The best results depend on you, and your own willpower. As long as you can Google, you can figure out a workout regime.

The month before I left Toronto, I didn’t want to go to the gym. I didn’t have the energy, I was busy working three jobs and I had a lot of preparation and packing to complete. I assumed I could just find something when I arrived in Berlin. At the beginning of this month, I finally decided it had to happen, I had to find a gym, and the lack of physical activity was driving me crazy. Living and working with your boss can be challenging, and I missed the time alone with my music that pumping iron gave me.

I Googled gyms while I waited for the glue on my latex to dry. I asked Jenny where she went, and how much she paid. Every possibility was at least half an hour away, and their prices were dependant on buying a year’s worth of memberships. I sighed in regret, and went back to work. I look up to see Jule and Karina standing over me with grins, a business card in hand. There is a small fitness studio two buildings to the left, on the third floor. The price per month is about the same as it would be at home, and I can go back in an hour to talk to the woman who gave them the information. Yes, she speaks a little English.

I return with Jule an hour later. It is one large room. The floors are carpeted with a tightly woven light grey material, the walls are white with many large windows leaning open to let in fresh air. The machines are all lined up against the walls, circling the room. There is a small men’s change room, a small women’s change room, and a room for the classes. We speak with a tall, fit blond woman wearing yoga pants and running shoes. Classes cost extra, here. I whip out my visa, ready to pay for a month, but the woman says, “We don’t take credit cards, just cash”. I tell her I will have to come back tomorrow. She schedules in a time, and tells me to bring water and proper shoes.

I return the next day with water, shoes, and ready to give away the soul of my first born child, again. She asks what I am doing in Bernau, and I respond, “Practicum, Fantastic Rubber”. She smiles. I give her cash, she pulls out a small piece of paper affixed to a tiny clipboard. I prepare myself to step on a scale.
Instead, she leads me to the elliptical.
“Set it for five minutes”
“Walk? Run?”
“Whatever you want, just 5 minutes”
This was the warmup.
She leads me to a machine for an abdominal workout. “This is for nice, tight, small,” she gestures to her stomach. She sets it to a weight, and says, “I will write this weight down for you. 20 times, 3 times.”
The next machine is a butterfly press. Again she sets the weight, writes it down, and answers the phone while I finish my sets. After, a shoulder press. After that, a rowing machine. She shows me the optimal way to position my hands, and leaves to answer the phone while I finish my sets.

After she leads me to all relevant machines, she says, “You do a lot of standing, yes?” I nod.

“Planks. All kinds of planks. Pushups too. This will...” She slouches forward, then rolls her shoulders backwards until she is standing with perfect posture. She then demonstrates all the planks I am to do, explaining everything clearly in English. When she finishes, all the other people working out applaud. Her English is quite good, especially for Bernau. She puts the sheet she wrote in a black box for me to take out when I arrive for my workouts. The top has the name “Rae” on it, and the page is filled out with the machines, the weight I used, and the positioning and height of the chair.

The lovely blonde woman not only owns the gym, she teaches half the classes. She will give me something new to do in a few weeks. I leave the gym feeling confident and refreshed.



After this is all done, I ask her what else she needs from me. She says, “Oh, your birthday”. I write down my birthday beside “Rae”. I put on my street shoes and leave.

---