March 13, 2006 is when I first enrolled at the Crunch on Grand and Wabash, approximately five blocks from my job. I had just ended a tumultuous relationship and needed to get my head straight. Many lunch time jaunts to the gym followed where I worked off more than calories. It became a refuge from the obsessive thoughts in my head (among other things). I looked forward to my workouts and had a particular affinity for the spin classes, not to mention the instructors.
It’s been more than three-and-a-half years since that day. Today I went there for the last time. Crunch went bankrupt and is closing its doors. I didn’t think it’d be a big deal to go there one last time, but I felt more overwhelmed than I thought I would. Sure, it’s been referred to by some as a ghetto gym and it was in a basement and it was small and the shower curtains had mold on them and they sometimes refilled the body wash with shampoo, but it was MY gym.
The price was right ($69/month), the amenities were adequate (towels, shampoo, mouth wash, hair dryers, ear cleaners), and the classes were great (spin, tread n shed, yoga, pilates, thai boxing, etc.). Fitness Formula is taking over Crunch memberships, but instead of the 5 minute walk it was to Crunch, it’s a 12 minute walk to FF. Plus, they have no noon cardio classes. Sure, they’re bigger, and cleaner, and have three levels, and a Jacuzzi and a pool, but I don’t NEED all that. All I needed was my little ghetto gym.
I thought today of all the times I went to spin class and felt its therapeutic effects. When the instructor told us to imagine that we were passing four people on the road, I imagined four people I wanted to get past in my life and I pedaled with everything I had. The classes were hard, REALLY hard at times. I sometimes thought of them as metaphors for my life. If I could make it through this one hour of excruciating physical and emotional pain, I could make it through anything. More than once tears would splash on my spin bike right along with the beads of sweat.
I exercised my demons, flirted with instructors, and worked my way through three of the toughest years of my life. When everything else in my life was falling apart, Crunch was there. I would have paid more for everything to stay the same, but even before they closed, my favorite instructors had started to disperse or open their own high-priced gyms that are too far away and too expensive. So I am gymless for the first time in years. (Before Crunch, I belonged to Bally’s.)
I don’t know what I’m going to do. Considering my motivation is at an all time low, maybe it’s just as well that I don't join another gym. Then I won’t feel so guilty about not going to work out and can spend my lunch hour eating lunch, or reading, or shopping.
Unfortunately, that brings me (and my demons) very little comfort.
Goodbye Crunch. I'll miss you.