Too Miffed to Write

 I was going to find something to write about. Something that got my goat up. Pauline Hanson. Not writing. Being stuck in front of a screen all day. Getting rained on as I walked out of work at 5.15. 

Nope. 

Tonight we found out that the gym is closing. 

My lovely community gym that I've been going to for 20 years. My wonderful gym that has normal people in it. It's always been like this. Posers don't go to my gym, which is tucked behind a shopping centre, out of sight and mind. There's not an influencer to be seen. The same people go week in, week out. Some I've known for over a decade. Jay and I are the scary birds who put many men to shame with the weights we lift. We know the receptionist and trainers. It's great. 

And they're bloody closing it. It's not a part of their 'brand' which is now high-end and marketed to the poser/influencer types who want to film themselves with their ring lights. The nearest we get to a camera is when we talk to Cleo in Barcelona as she gives us orders on what to train next. 

And sure, the writing has been on the wall for a while. Diminishing classes, staffed hours, the lack of maintenance, but still, my convenient gym, which has well-lit access and great parking, is closing. 

So, what will I do after 21 August - which we're told is the last day the gym is open - I do not know. 

I feel I'll end up wherever Chuck plants himself. Chuck's my Wednesday trainer and he's done wonders for me - I'm more flexible and stronger under his tutelage. He's one of the best trainers I've had - and I want to keep him. He only got the news at lunchtime, so he's looking at what's best for all his clients. I'll have a chat to Hamish, who's been at the gym as long as I have - see what he's doing. I think he and his girlfriend will follow Chuck too.

I mean, there's the other Fitness First site down Church Street, but getting there is a bastard as you often get stuck behind a tram, the parking is variable and it's full of posers. 

There's the 24/7 gym on Victoria Street where some of the old trainers from where I am now train. It's a bit cheaper and easy to get to, but a bit smaller.

Richmond has a plethora of gyms, but this has been my gym for 20 years. It's my haven, my home. 

And it will all work out, because whatever happens, I need to have access to a gym because it's cheaper and easier to work out than to take anti-depressants and go to therapy. And it keeps my arse harder than a breeze block. 

I'm just pissed off. It's the end of an era. 

Today's song: