gym rat

People who go to the gym often get a bad rap from those who don’t. There is a derogatory (in some cases) stereotype, Gym Rat, who may or may not be obsessed with spandex, neon shoes and full-length mirrors. The aforementioned Rat spends a good portion of her day thinking in pre, current or post workout state. Rat pours a baggy of protein powder into her black coffee.  Rat spends her lunch hour doing squats around the parking lot, oblivious to the sweaty scent she’ll impose on others for the rest of the day.  Rat’s muscles bulge imposingly through her needlessly tight shirt. Rat  is annoying.

In reality, Rat is really more of an oddity than a norm. Many people who go to the gym faithfully, masquerade in public as normal people. The Normals, let’s call them. They are shaped like apples, pears and your grandma. Your grandma may even be going to the gym and you don’t even know it.

One such Normal, a woman we’ll call Gladys Normal to protect her outside world identity, is 86 years-old. She’s so tiny and frail you may have already run over her with your cart at Walmart and not even noticed.  After years of attending an entry-level, just-so-you-can -brag-you-entered-the-gym class, someone told her about the world of indoor biking, spinning, to be exact. “You’re too old for it, though,” they added, in what Gladys took as a personal- challenge kind of voice.

Six years later, this unassuming woman is still spinning. At the end of class, she casts a doubtful eye on those who’ve sputtered. She’s not there to look like Rat and would be horrified at the thought of spandex on or near her body. Gladys Normal is the anti-Rat. 

Glady is so typical of the gym experience that I need to share one tiny detail: The day before Christmas, Gladys entered class wearing a Santa hat and a big frown. “Not feeling the Christmas spirit this year?” I asked, inspired once again that she would wear the traditional happy hat of the holiday anyway, typical of her can-do spirit.

“Not Christmas. I hate THIS crap.” She responded. Power to the Normals.