Reflections of a Former Health Snob
I have clean and jerked in my chalk covered bare feet while heavy metal music blared in the background. I have pedaled my legs to jelly in the flashing neon lights of an Ohio-based ‘Soul Cycle’ knock off studio. My heart has touched the sky in countless vinyasa’s all while noting whether the girl in front of me was wearing a ‘Free To Be’ or ‘Flow Y Power IV’ bra. I have held onto a barre and made circles in the air with my toes while instructors pumped words like “long, lean, toned, and core” into my vocabulary. I have brought my Newton running shoes to a start line while my shaking right hand hovered over the ‘start’ button on my Garmin watch, preparing to run 3.1, 13.1, or 26.2 miles.
I know that fitness is no longer simple. I know that the workouts mentioned above and many more come with equipment requirements, clothing requirements, knowledge of social norms and etiquette, and willingness to pay a larger sum of money for this workout that is not a workout, but a lifestyle. I know that at these gyms, studios, and races, I can find the people who live and breathe their respective chosen method of sweating; and cannot wait to tell me all about it.
I was 19 when I began immersing myself in the cultures of these “lifestyle workouts” and what was the first thing my teeny bopper self noticed? That these people are damn excited and proud of what they do. Fondly and not so fondly in CrossFit, its called “drinking the kool-aid”. Slowly and surely I noticed that to outside eyes this excitement can also translate to obnoxiously self-obsessed. They also get damn pissed when they can’t find their weight belts. Sometimes bitter society refers to these people as “douche bags”. Poor coping skills for dealing with these enthusiastic members are partially responsible for driving me out of the boutique fitness scene by the age of 23.
With the extra time my recreational reading increased. It was weeks ago that I came across the ultimate explanation, the coping mechanism I always needed. In Truman Capote’s Breakfast at Tiffanys, a close friend speaks to Fred about Holly Golightly. He says:
“You’re wrong. She is a phony. But on the other hand you’re right. She isn’t a phony because she’s a real phony. She believes all the crap she believes.”
I really can’t summarize better than that. Other than to say that I don’t think it will be difficult to no longer get angry over someone’s joy or dedication for their gym that “ISNT A GYM BUT A LIFESTYLE”. Because they truly believe in it. Even if it’s a beefed up dude twice my age struggling his hardest to beat my Helen PR before he goes home to eat 4 pounds of noodles (that are actually zucchini) and post his workout on his IG along with a Christmas Abbott quote. Because if he truly gains self-approval from beating a 21 year old girl’s 400m time, or maybe he just really wants to put it on the whiteboard, it’s really none of my business.
