The gym is one of the most human places we have

It represents something beautiful about our existence.

Back in high school, the gym was one of my worst nightmares. It was a place I dreaded going. So I rarely went. Even as a soccer player — with dreams of playing in college — it was hard.

My fears came from being a scrawny ninth grader, and going into a gym filled with dudes up to four years older than me. They were stronger. I never really felt accepted on the team anyway, making it more stressful in the weight room.

COVID hit right after that. It gave me a good reason to avoid the gym. My workouts consisted of technical drills with the ball. Running miles on my own. It was more comfortable. I did push-ups everyday and felt accomplished.

But when I started college I also started my gym journey. My Chapman University tuition included free membership to the campus gyms (with the amount we’re billed, it’s the least the school can do). The least I could do was give it a try. My girlfriend motivated me to go more often. As always, she pushed me in the right direction.

Going to the gym has become a normal part of my routine. There are ups and downs. Some weeks I don’t want to go. Other weeks you can’t keep me away. I even had my mom get a Planet Fitness membership last summer so both of us could go. This summer I have my own so that me and my girlfriend can go.

It makes me happy. I have mostly exorcised my demons of the past. The younger, socially-anxiety-ridden version of me would pass out if he knew I loved the gym. That lets me know that I’ve grown. And that I have more growth to do.

Recently, I’ve been thinking about how my journey is not an original one. Yes, it’s my own. It’s not really unique, though. Plenty of people have struggled with gym anxiety. They worry about being ridiculed. Probably because they had a bad experience at a younger age.

When you walk around a place like Planet Fitness, you get to see a glimpse of so many human stories.

In one corner, there’s an absolutely ripped dude. He’s destroying his sets of bicep curls, using 70 pound dumbbells on both arms. Not many feet away from him is a grandma, using every ounce of strength she has on the row machine. The machine’s on the lowest weight possible.

There’s nothing different about them. Superficially? Visually? Yea of course. But neither is better than the other.

They are both pushing their body to its limits. Trying to stay healthy. Reaching for some serotonin. Some satisfaction in their efforts. I’m sure both hypothetical people walked out of the gym in a good mood. Energized. They probably slept good that night.

Same thing was true for me and my mom last summer. I was in the gym for a couple reasons. To build a beach-ready-body for a South Carolina vacation. To have the physique I always hoped for as a kid. To be proud of myself. Most of all to be healthy and happy. And it worked.

For my mom, she also wanted to build muscle. She also wanted to stay healthy. It was her outlet for rage at times. Sure, she wasn’t trying to look good for her girlfriend like I was. But, at the base level, we went there for similar reasons. We were better for it.

The other people working out with us were also better for it.

With 80ish people at PF the other day, it was easy to come up with stories for a bunch of strangers.

“The guy on the treadmill wants to be slim for his wedding.”

“The middle aged mom on the StairMaster went to the doctors earlier this week, and they didn’t have good news about her risk of a heart attack. No more sedentary lifestyle.”

Moving over to the machines, there’s a teenager.

“He’s been watching a lot of gym TikToks. Drinking a nasty protein shake that he doesn’t like. Pulling more weight on the chest machine than he, probably, needs to.”

There’s a dad who is working out his back.

“He’s trying to regain his strength for a home renovation project.”

These are just my assumptions. But I guarantee these people exist in a gym somewhere in this world. There are people who, like me two years ago, are beginning a journey they never thought they’d actually embark on.

More power to them. They are truly human. Conquering obstacles. Always improving. Bettering. It makes me crack a smile.

We are all living for the first time. Most likely the only time. And while we constantly repeat that fact, telling ourselves we need to shake off our fears and seize every day like it’s our last, it’s not that easy.

Glasses up to those who have beaten their anxieties. And to those working through it. And to those who haven’t… yet.