Is it just me, or do most workout spaces have a weird, unpleasant energy? And not just one kind of unpleasantness. It’s like each gym seems to specialize in its own unique flavor of it.
Some are claustrophobic, with low ceilings and too much equipment crammed into too little space. Others feel intense: sweaty, loud, packed with people training like they’re auditioning for an action movie. Then there are the male-dominated ones, where you can’t shake the feeling of being sized up every time you touch a dumbbell. And of course, the pretentious gyms, where the branding is stronger than the sense of community.
And don’t even get me started on the fees. Some of these places act like a monthly membership should cost the same as a flight overseas.
I’ve been searching up and down my commute route, hoping to find a spot that feels welcoming, motivating, and chill. Something convenient enough that I don’t dread the logistics before I even walk in the door. But so far? No luck.
I tried a community centre. It was accessible, not too bad, but also not very motivating. I tried one of those high-intensity boutique group fitness places (think F45 or Orange Theory). I liked the efficiency of being in and out in under an hour. But the coaches pushed so hard, trying to drag me past the point I knew was safe and comfortable for my body, that I ended up feeling alienated instead of empowered. I tried an all women’s gym and it was my favourite. But it closed down and so did my hope for a fitter body.
So here I am, in this strange place where I want to move, lift, and play around with equipment… but I can’t find a single space that actually feels good to exist in.
Someone needs to invent a new kind of workout space. A place where people can show up however they are that day, whether it’s full throttle or just dipping their toes in, and still feel welcome.
Until then, I guess I’ll keep wandering through these gym-shaped paradoxes, wondering why a place built for movement so often makes me feel stuck.
Self Maid 
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