Gymnsia

Part 4 - `Please be considerate. Don't spit in the fountains.'

by Michael Joseph Gross

There were only three gyms where I thought spit-clogged water fountains might be an issue. They were the muscle gyms: Gold's Gym, near Kenmore Square; Mike's Gym, in Somerville; and, to a lesser extent, the Huntington Street YMCA. (The Y, in addition to having mounds and mounds of muscle, also has perhaps the most diverse demographic of any gym in the city.)

These are gyms with extremely intense weight rooms, where some very big men lift some very heavy weights. At Mike's I found the PLEASE BE CONSIDERATE sign; Gold's has a blunter and more imperative note (PLEASE DO NOT SPIT/WATER FOUNTAIN). The YMCA, with no signs, was the only place where I actually saw spit.

The members who set the tone at these gyms are the stuff of which stereotypes are made. They're rough-looking, taciturn, heavily stubbled. They're the guys who hold the stop and go signs on the Big Dig, the guys who hit their peak as captains of their college hockey teams. They're also, to judge by some that I've met, guys who make some of the biggest deals on the top floors of skyscrapers. They share a delicate balance of genetics, vanity, discipline, and vigor. And what emerges when they all get together in one room is not a macho face-off but an extremely well-honed system of manners. This system has exactly one goal: to get gym members as big as possible, as fast as possible.

The clients of these gyms always put their weights back where they found them. They never block your view in the mirror. They rarely say hello unbidden, but if you ask them for a spot, they placidly agree. I overheard them speak about the "vectors of the motion" and the girls they scored last week. But mostly, I heard them breathing.

There's something extremely democratizing about the simple focus on physicality you find in these gyms, which is probably why so many people from such divergent class backgrounds make daily pilgrimages to clubs like this. It may also be the reason there are more women at Gold's and the YMCA than at any of the other gyms I visited. And this demotic ambiance makes our muscle gyms perhaps the most profoundly Bostonian of all. After all, it took some mighty big triceps to pitch that tea in the harbor.

Back to part 3 - On to part 5

Michael Joseph Gross is a freelance writer living in Boston. He can be reached at MJG25@aol.com.