Paying for torture

Today I joined a gym, not the first time I’ve done this but it’s a curious feature of modern mankind that we do so.

Two hundred years ago our ancestors would have laughed it the idea of paying to work out. Life was tough enough as it was. Now we pay to torture ourselves, or get fit which is what it’s all about.

It used to be part of my contract that we got free membership of the local gym if we went more than 25 times a year. That was great, but the new contract didn’t include it, so membership lapsed.

As my friend S reminds me once you reach 40 the body is as good as it’s going to be so it’s time to get in shape before the great downhill road starts. In fact, sod downhill, I intend to get better and break the trend.

So the local YMCA looks good. Golds gyms are a gay cruising spot, Crunch has a really bad reputation and the local place has a pool so I can get in 20 laps before work and still have hand muscle control for good typing.

Plus, even though the gym is rather shabby it’s still more advanced than London’s facilities. There’s a computer system that monitors how you use the machines and gives you points for doing it right. Get enough and there’s a free massage at the end of it or discounts on membership. A good incentive.