7 kind of people inhabit the amplified air-conditioned world of gym. Some peek in, wishing it all could somehow work out by itself and give it a weak shot only to find themselves drawn to the comfort of their moth-laden sofas. For matters of simplicity such species are excluded from the list. Homo sapiens of such kind need to be dwelt on in a broader canvas, which is certainly out of scope for this curriculum.
Anyhow, below is an exhaustive compendium of the species. As species evolve however the list is therefore not exactly exhaustive. Some,who chose to stay are chronicled here, while others who left, either in contempt or under debt have been left out.
1. The heavy-weights– despite the ambiguous name the kind of metropolitans who inhabit this sphere are not the ones who pull and push heavy weights. Au contraire, this category draws inspiration from those who themselves are one. They can be seen during varied hours of he day, recognised duly through the unnaturally wet gym gears they are made to wear, their appetite for longer gym hours and their inability to visibly show the effect of the gruelling routines they are pushed towards by their hapless instructors. They are by far the meanest and the most diligent of the lots yet somehow find themselves perennially on the cross roads of recovery. Looking at them is, and I am in no way being disrespectful or condemning, a comforting and uplifting experience. All stemming from the huge base effect they are made to constitute.
2. The lurkers: the most dangerous of the lot, stemming from the evident seriousness in their face and the rippling-branded-wet-skin tight tshirts they pair their ultra-shot knickers with. They are there whenever you are there, it matters not if you arrive a day, a week, a month or a year later you will find them going about their routine with utmost sincerity. The trouble is when their efforts show. The first hint of danger knocks its presence when you chance by often, the second when their glare casts you in stone, the third when they demand the machine to be vacated for their use because there is no use (according to them) to explain to you why, the final and the last hint arrives when you, having worked your ass off for more than an hour still find the lurker going about his ordeals as if he has only just started. You wonder of they ever leave the gym or what. You wonder and then decide that since you do not want the fitness level matching his, the muscles more than his, the sincerity more than his and the discipline better than his he is not in your way, nor you in his. It is easier to look at them from a distance and assume their personal life is next to zero, their professional life is not as taxing as yours, and their life in itself is not as knitted as yours.
3. The middlemen– not because they are somewhere between the two categories I enlisted above, but more due to the pseudo-knowledgeable expert advice they are so free to divest themselves off. Men of such kinds think not when they exercise. They look. They soak in their relative advantage over the less fortunate ones and miss not a chance to demonstrate their prowess. They lie in the thickest the slimiest the stupidest bracket. But one you would like to inhabit save some particular idisyncrasies and some other individual ideologies.
4. The cougars-let us now swap the genders. In uni-sex gyms, which are the most common of all, there are those ladies who, in their forties or maybe fifties have decided to give shape a shot. They are one of the most enthusiastic of all ( within their sex ofcourse), probably the weirdest of all, possibly the most careless of their lot and evidently the smallest ( in terms of count) of all. Their work hours are flexible and so are their exercising shifts. While their inability to shift within the machines is limited, which gifts them some brownie points, their immobility when it comes to the treadmill is a source of constant headache however. The gyrating posteriors and the flowing dresses notwithstanding, they take ages to complete their turn, contribute the most to the sounds of the gym ( leaving aside the amplifiers blasting Micheal Jackson or pitbull ofcourse) and extract the least from the monthly fees they dole out to the hefty gym manager. They most likely pare their hours at the gym with the dining hours post-it and emerge unscathed from the whole wetting turmoil.
5. The ogled ones– they are the prize possessions in a gym. If the managers had their way, a new scape-goat would most likely be treated with a lineup of all such dwellers rather than a demonstration of the myriad machines that dot the wooden flooring. Looking at them, apart from a visual delight is, at the same time, a source of constant befuddlement. You wonder ( though you are thankful) why such species call upon the white stinking-wet-overused-gyrating- monotonous machines. If you are a girl you imagine yourself in their position and speculate what better use ‘ you’ would have put this ‘ gym time’ to. If you are a guy, you would be in no position to even think.
6. The ‘lean’ers– the mirror image of the first species in this list, there name alternate between the lightweights and the ‘lean’ers. Not because they lean or anything, more because of their lean’ness’. For the dwellers of species 1 such kind evoke the same sentiments as the girls in species 5 evoke in their brethren.
7. The Us: last and certainly not the least this is the world we inhabit. Us, the fortunate ones for some and not so much for others. Us, who alternate their days, rejig their schedules, forget their instructor’s names, mark their attendance in an effort towards accountancy. Us, the ones with the perennial sense of guilt, the half- hearted efforts, the random thoughts and the ones on the periphery who, like the lurkers,lurk, only, with a different face each time and with significantly more time to dwell on the state of affairs in a gym, the kind of members and their traits, the few selected machines they are authorised to lay their hands on. Us, the ones who run. On the treadmill, away from the lurkers, away from the zealot instructor, away from their guilt, away from the cougars, towards the ogled ones, away from discipline, away from the crunches, away from the dumb- bells ( it’s not for nothing they are called dumb, afterall) and finally, away from the gym itself.