If you’re a typical freedom-loving, bacon-craving American, you probably hate the gym. Like me, you’d rather be at about 37 other places when you’re there, including the dentist’s office. It’s a loud, sweaty space reserved for torment, fake enthusiasm, and general disdain. But many of us belong to one of these metal- and rubber-filled dungeons because of—ya know—our desire not to die of a heart attack at age 40.
It’s a soulless place, but who, really, can justify $30+ classes at bougie spots like Rumble or Barry’s? It doesn’t matter how fun the class is — I’d rather spend that money on two cocktails. No matter where your standard gym is, from downtown to SoMa to the FiDi, these are the people you’re most likely to meet.
The Tech Bro
He’s wearing an Uber shirt that he cut into a muscle tee and is here for the second time today. He’s grunting loudly as he bench-presses enough weight to make a face so scrunched, you desperately hope for his sake that it’s not his sex face. He’s surrounded by at least three other guys so they can spot each other and talk about yacht week in between sets. This group is responsible for more than 50% of the noise you hear at the gym as their weights clang down after every 12 reps.
The Programmer
He looks slightly out of place in the midst of the artificially bright weight room, but he’s also got the most determined face of anyone at the gym. He stays exclusively in the weight section because people around the office have been telling him he needs to bulk up. All that typing and chugging Soylent doesn’t exactly pack on muscle. He can be seen sporting a T-shirt from a recent hackathon with a mildly witty saying, like, “I’m not a player—I just code a lot” or “Your product has died of dysentery.”
The Matching-Workout-Gear Girl (a.ka. Sports Bra Girl)
Working out is just an excuse to own 18 different pairs of Lululemon leggings, right? This lean, well-sculpted woman is most often seen in a matching Outdoor Voices cropped set with a Lululemon yoga mat slung over her shoulder and a water bottle in hand even though you’ve never actually seen her in a yoga class. Her hair is long; and her makeup looks fresh; and she’s never, ever sweaty. You imagine that she actually burns most of her calories while staring at her phone while walking around the block at night, because if her Apple Watch didn’t congratulate her for “closing her rings,” was today even worth it?
The Self-Proclaimed Yogi
She’s originally from New York City and used to spend most of her time on the elliptical, but after last summer’s yoga retreat in Greece, she claims that breathwork and meditation can change your life. She flocks to the best yoga teachers like a groupie, hanging on their every word about how Burning Man went. She sits in the same spot in every single yoga class you’ve been to and brings along her Twitter coworkers whenever they’ll join her. You don’t believe she could actually be good at yoga until you see her doing core exercises while up in a flawless headstand.
The Triathalon-er
He’s on the treadmill, in a spin class, or in the pool because he’s training for his fifth Ironman, obviously. His shirt from his most recent marathon is soaked through, and when you give him the class sign-up sheet, he doesn’t even look you in the eye because he’s so focused on getting his bike set up properly. As he walks back to the locker room, he leaves large droplets of perspiration in his path. You’ve only ever heard him talk about the number of weeks until his next race or how long his bike ride was in Marin last week.
The Tiny Old Woman
She’s half your size and lifting weights that are twice as heavy as the ones you’re lifting. She’s quick and nimble, and she puts your gym routine to shame. She loves group classes and seems to know everyone else in them. When the HIIT class is over, there isn’t a hair out of place on her head. You stare at her longingly as she weaves in and out of millennials absorbed in their latest text, thinking that she’s actually the type of gym rat you’d want to be at that age.
The Rest of Us
That person leaning against the wall pretending to wait for a treadmill to open up while you scroll through Instagram videos of corgis surfing.
