I really like the gym where I’ve been working out. As you may recall, it’s a Crunch Fitness Center and it’s ever so conveniently located in the lobby of my apartment building at Marina City.
I’ve been noticing that another thing I like about it is that it’s never very crowded. There’s never a bunch of people looking at me in my gym attire or laughing at me when I, unknowingly, sit backwards on a particular piece of torture equipment.
I like that.
Just the other day, I was noticing that this facility was never very crowded, even in the mornings before work. And I was wondering if this facility was actually profitable to the Crunch people, especially since there’s another Crunch place just five blocks away.
It turns out that my observations were dead on. When I went to work out on Saturday, there was the following notice on the door:
“After serving you faithfully for nine years at this location, we will be closing our doors and turning off the last treadmill at 10:00 pm on Thursday, July 31.”
I knew it was all too good to be true! Having a nice Crunch Fitness in the same building that I live in which hardly anyone else used was just too much of a good thing.
What made it even more frustrating what that I was really seeing some noticeable results from faithfully torturing myself in this convenient location. My biceps and triceps and forceps finally got some muscle-action going on. I’d be typing at my keyboard and think, “Whose arms are those?”
When I saw that sign, I got into my banging-on-the-high-chair mode and went all huffy-puffy to the front desk and cancelled my membership. That notice also said, “We’ve reserved a spot for you at one of our other convenient locations.”
“The hell you have,” I thought. “Nothing is as convenient as having this place just an elevator ride away.”
Besides, I could always just go there in my dorky work-out clothes, rain or shine, heat or snow. I never had to use the dressing room or bring other clothes with me.
That was so nice. And now it’s all being taken away from me.
I’ve been noticing that another thing I like about it is that it’s never very crowded. There’s never a bunch of people looking at me in my gym attire or laughing at me when I, unknowingly, sit backwards on a particular piece of torture equipment.
I like that.
Just the other day, I was noticing that this facility was never very crowded, even in the mornings before work. And I was wondering if this facility was actually profitable to the Crunch people, especially since there’s another Crunch place just five blocks away.
It turns out that my observations were dead on. When I went to work out on Saturday, there was the following notice on the door:
“After serving you faithfully for nine years at this location, we will be closing our doors and turning off the last treadmill at 10:00 pm on Thursday, July 31.”
I knew it was all too good to be true! Having a nice Crunch Fitness in the same building that I live in which hardly anyone else used was just too much of a good thing.
What made it even more frustrating what that I was really seeing some noticeable results from faithfully torturing myself in this convenient location. My biceps and triceps and forceps finally got some muscle-action going on. I’d be typing at my keyboard and think, “Whose arms are those?”
When I saw that sign, I got into my banging-on-the-high-chair mode and went all huffy-puffy to the front desk and cancelled my membership. That notice also said, “We’ve reserved a spot for you at one of our other convenient locations.”
“The hell you have,” I thought. “Nothing is as convenient as having this place just an elevator ride away.”
Besides, I could always just go there in my dorky work-out clothes, rain or shine, heat or snow. I never had to use the dressing room or bring other clothes with me.
That was so nice. And now it’s all being taken away from me.
I felt like my neighborhood parish was closing on me. I really did.
Me. Me. Me!
I thought I’d look into joining a gym that’s next to my work place. After all, I could just go there after work on my way home.
Me. Me. Me!
I thought I’d look into joining a gym that’s next to my work place. After all, I could just go there after work on my way home.
However, it turned out that it’s a really snooty country-club type of facility that has a pro shop, valet parking, a laundry service, and they shine your shoes while you eat sushi.
Oh, and it costs $132 a month. No thanks.
Maybe I should re-consider staying with Crunch and going to the one five blocks away.
Here’s how I look at it: There were so many times that I would work out for only about fifteen minutes precisely because I knew I could come back anytime. Maybe, if I had to walk five blocks to another Crunch, I’d actually spend some time there and get my money’s worth with each visit.
Oh, and it costs $132 a month. No thanks.
Maybe I should re-consider staying with Crunch and going to the one five blocks away.
Here’s how I look at it: There were so many times that I would work out for only about fifteen minutes precisely because I knew I could come back anytime. Maybe, if I had to walk five blocks to another Crunch, I’d actually spend some time there and get my money’s worth with each visit.
The other Crunch also offers yoga classes. Mine doesn't. And I'm pretty good at yoga and actually enjoy it.
I could also stop and have Starbuck’s on the way. Oh! And there’s a Bed, Bath & Beyond nearby. That’s a big plus. Oh! And it’s really close to Trader Joe’s. I could go to Trader Joe’s every day, easily.
Also, it would get my sorry ass out of the house.
I could also stop and have Starbuck’s on the way. Oh! And there’s a Bed, Bath & Beyond nearby. That’s a big plus. Oh! And it’s really close to Trader Joe’s. I could go to Trader Joe’s every day, easily.
Also, it would get my sorry ass out of the house.
And, HELLO!, a five-block walk, round trip, is exactly one mile. I joined a gym exactly for the purpose of getting some activity, not avoiding it.
I just called Crunch back and asked them to cancel my cancellation request.
Sigh. . .
Good for you. I'd feel the same way, though. I love businesses that are dead because I don't have to share the space with annoying strangers. Problem is, if i'm the only one patronizing it, it's going to close. DOH! Good luck at the new gym...I always look at my arms and body and say "who's are those?" but not in a good way :-(
ReplyDeleteI would think that a building of your size and population would have it's own weight room anyway, and you shouldn't have to pay to use it.
ReplyDeletePerhaps I shouldn't think so much.
Breen: Thanks for the nice wishes. You got to visit Toronto and I'm jealous.
ReplyDeleteJP: My building is populated by elderly Jewish women who've all been there since 1964. No need for a weight room.
So sorry to hear about this, dooder! What a bummer!!
ReplyDeleteBut I do agree with JP. You should petition to get a free weight room in your building. :)