Social Behaviour of the Gym Part 1: The Manky Gym

Desmond Morris is a zoologist who chose as his primary subject species; Homo Sapiens (people). Morris rose to fame in 1967 with his book "The Naked Ape" which catalogued his research in an entertaining and non-academic style. He had traveled the world studying human behaviour, and his findings provide a wonderfully objective view of the silliness people usually engage in as they go about the things they think they need to be doing. Morris observed humans in a great variety of settings, but one setting he missed, a setting in which a number of unique behaviours emerge, is the modern gym.

A couple of years ago I conceded to the never-ending bombardment of statistics about the importance of fitness and exercise, directed at us by know-it-all social commentators who delight in adding health-guilt to our already huge reservoir of appearance-associated low self esteem, and joined a gym. It wasn't one of these high-class joints you see in every suburb these days. This was a manky gym, cheap and nasty and located in the shadiest part of town (adjacent to a strip club and next to a BMW dealership), but it attracted people who were serious about getting fit.

There was one 20 inch CRT television set on the wall, which you had to thump about 20 times before the white dot in the centre expanded out into a recognisable picture. There wouldn't have been more than 3 matching carpet squares in the whole place. The foam bits on the weight machines were all torn and manky, and when you walked in, the bracing stench of stale perspiration nearly made you throw up as it hit you in the face. The general demographic of members at this place was: Male, over 25, not beautiful and (judging from the peeling duco on most of the bombs parked outside), definitely not rich. This was a place where no-one judged you on how much your fat wobbled as you peddled your stationary bike. Where board shorts and a 10 year old, paint-spattered T-shirt was about as contemporary as the fashion got, and where the only sexy young eye-candy you ever saw was on the above-mentioned crappy TV set.

I did get to see some unique behaviours at this gym. One of the most frequently-observed gestures was the exhaustion-induced stare into oblivion. This gesture was often accompanied by a beetroot coloured complexion and rapid panting and was most common among the over 40 year old contingency. Another common social gesture, which would have been quite out of place in any other context, was the shadow box dance. In this ritual, grown men converse with each other while both dancing about on tiptoe and taking jabs at imaginary opponents located slightly to the side of their friend.

Another behaviour prevalent at the manky gym is the absent, insular gaze of the non-sports-obsessed guy. It is also possible to observe this behaviour at Australian weekend barbeques where males with no sports knowledge will find themselves shunned by the rest of the tribe. But while the non-sports-obsessed guy will often manage to re-enter the barbeque conversation by steering it away from sports and toward cars, at the manky gym this is not possible because there is a rule that states all conversation must be about sport.

The manky gym is a breeding ground for constantly evolving behavioural stereotypes and I would have welcomed the opportunity to observe and catalogue more. Sadly however, I eventually had to leave my manky gym in favour of somewhere more geographically convenient and I joined the throng of beautiful people at my local suburban gym. The suburban gym is, in many ways, less like a traditional gym and more like a nightclub, but it does facilitate the evolution of some unique gym behaviours. Join me for my next post when we will explore these behaviours, and other absurd aspects of the up-market gym.