I recently realized my investment in my current gym (“Old Gym”) wasn’t really worth it. This became clear after several weeks of forgetting that I even had a gym membership, and upon that realization saying, “Meh, I don’t really feel like going.”
While Old Gym may have been accessible, affordable and interesting when I first moved to town, it has, in recent weeks, become a source of dread. Another half hour on a squeaky treadmill while the only other people there, three meat heads, awkwardly stare at me as I drag a mat into the dimly lit spinning room? No thanks.
So I decided to switch.
I had heard great things about New Gym: it has a pool, it’s open 24/7 and it is VERY clean. Add to that a really great class schedule and I was sold. Hey, Old Gym, remember when I signed up and you said you had morning spin classes and then I showed up and you were all, “Oh yeah, the instructor doesn’t do those anymore,”??? I do. New Gym wouldn’t do that to me. New Gym keeps its commitments.
So I threw out my old key fob and called up Old Gym. “I’d like to cancel my membership, please.” It’s best to be cordial during these sorts of things.
“Oh? And why is that?” Old Gym asked me.
A flurry of excuses blew through my brain. “It’s not you, it’s me!” “It’s just not what I need anymore…” and “I’m moving towns and I just don’t think we could handle a long distance membership!” No. I had to be honest.
“I’ve found a new gym,” I said, proudly holding my ground.
“Oh, well, do you know our policy for cancellation?”
One of the ways that switching gyms is NOT like breaking up with somebody is that when you break up with somebody, you don’t have to send his corporate office in Utah a certified letter with your expressed consent to officially process your cancellation request.
But luckily for you, I have been picturing ways it might be like a breakup.
You’re walking into New Gym, and Feist comes on shuffle on your iPod.
“And it’s impossible to tell / how important someone was / and how he might have changed it all / and how you might have changed it all for him / And did I? Did I? / Did I miss out on you?” she croons, and the tiny hairs in your ear stand on edge as the bitter sting of regret and unrequited love floods behind your eyes.
Did I? Would I? Old Gym?
What we all know (even you, Feist!) is that it’s a question you can’t answer. As a wise friend once said, “You probably just have to forget.” And while that might not be the healthiest thing ever, it’s probably true. Or, at the very least, you have to remember that you have no idea what “could have been” and concentrate on how great the possibilities are in front of you.
Besides, New Gym has a steam room, man.