Alarmed by a depiction of a "future human" shaped by sedentary work, I was scared back to the gym a few months back. The gym chain I chose to join is very affordable, but you get what you pay for—like not being able to move to another location when it’s packed that day. Another feature are the groups of pubescent humans, always in packs of five or more, hoarding the bench press to assist in lifting the last 40 kg of their friend's ambitious 50 kg endeavor.

Now, I’m not an exclusionist, but there is only so much one can take. Seeing these kids (they are often younger than 16 years old) treat the gym like a playground, showcasing their spindly arms, recording each other’s "gains,” and hogging equipment for hours without cleaning up after themselves is testing my patience.

The gym was once my sanctuary. When I first joined many years ago, I had to drag myself there and use all my courage to get my jiggly body in motion. But it soon became a haven where I could switch off my brain and simply enjoy being in motion, no matter how brief or intense.

As I noticed the irritation creep in, I realized it wasn't because of the crowds; I like sharing a place with likeminded people and can easily pivot my routine when certain equipment is not available. It boils down to the lack of basic etiquette and ignoring the gym's unwritten codes of conduct, which grates on my nerves.

First off, the boys' excessive noise and bravado make me uneasy. The girls, on the other hand, scrutinize everyone, ostensibly looking to catch people staring at their Lululemon¹ leggings. The gym's charm was its judgment-free zone, where showing up was the only thing you had to do.

Secondly, their blatant disregard for the unspoken gym code—filming others, overcrowding machines, long and idle chit-chat, reserving equipment with a towel and vanishing right after, and questions about my workout duration—turns me into a grumpy cactus.

I wonder how they have even discovered the gym.
When I was a teenager, we roamed schoolyards, friends' houses, or the local hangouts. Not to sound like an old geezer, but could social media be to blame?
Their pursuit of unrealistic body ideals is a tad heartbreaking to witness, especially since their bodies are still growing and evolving. Is this TikTok and Instagram telling them to strive for this? I don’t have the right to patronize them; in my days, we were vain too. But something feels different now.

Could it also be that the hangout spots are dwindling since everything is so much more expensive to get into, and as soon as you hang with a group in public, the police are called for ‘disturbing the neighborhood’? I can see why the gym could be an ideal meeting spot while also being productive.

Okay, I'm venting — I am well aware that everyone's a newbie once, right? Like fumbling through a new hobby, they'll soon crack the yard's secret handshake and unspoken rules. They'll get there.

I can only say, as I observe them, that I am glad to have left behind those 'awkward snail' years—constantly wriggling into shells that were either too big or small.

Sweaty greetings,
Rat

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1. I don't know the actual brand, maybe it's the same but it looks a lot like the popular American brand↩