On this past thursday morning, March 14th, 2024, completely unbenounced to me (as I have made a conscious decision to avoid the news… especially in a US election year)… my gym went on strike.
A city-run facility that I’ve observed the sunrise from roughly 5 mornings per week for the past several years, a wonderful place where I am neither the most extreme nor the least, where early morning grunts & nods have become their own language among the people whom I share space with at the 6 o’clock hour, where sweat is dripped and teeth are grit, was locked up tight this morning.
I was fortunate to have a city worker from another union explain to me what & why, and ultimately I support anyone who is compelled to go to these measures to get done what they need to do.
However, this does not solve my immediate problem.
So, I went looking this morning and found a place not far from home that will grant me 24 hour access and permit me to use facilities in the other cities I frequent. It’s not the rough 1970’s boxing club vibe I was hoping for and would have no trouble finding in my neighborhood, fraught with dinge, rust, and trophies from a bygone era… but again – 24 hours.
It’s a Fit-4-less.
It doesn’t feel very badass, but neither did my beloved commonwealth. Perhaps this is a stepping stone on the way to some gaff-taped punching bag enshrouded in cinder blocks and chipped paint… but I suppose that remains to be seen.
What’s important is I have a new place to lift heavy shit.
Perhaps it’ll only be temporary, as the aforementioned strike was short-lived, but I think I will give this new gym a shot, regardless. Change is good, and the price is an improvement… but I sacrifice a few amenities in the process – namely the running track, which I use frequently, and the swimming pool, which I use infrequently.
Perhaps the commonwealth will call me back…. Perhaps it won’t.
The Conscious Pilgrim 