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Perhaps I got used to being one of only four people at Latti Fitness Center over the summer. Perhaps after two weeks of no gym to exercise in, I grew fond of my extreme laziness. Perhaps I am just a perpetual pessimist who likes to cause trouble. Actually, I am willing to bet that all of the above are contributing reasons to why the new multi-million dollar Student Recreation and Fitness Center has left me with much to desire.
I prepared for my first workout the same as I would have any other day, but with one noticeable difference: I was excited to exercise. Yes, exercising boosts my mood, keeps me in shape and improves my quality of life, blah blah blah, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that I am jumping around like a child on Christmas every time I tie my sneakers and head for the gym. It is usually quite the opposite, actually. Think less present-hungry kid and more seven-year-old going in for a teeth cleaning.
However, last Saturday morning, I was not whining about wanting to stay in bed nor was I promising to brush my teeth extra thoroughly if only I didn’t have to run on the treadmill for 30 minutes. No, I was giddily driving to campus, eager to enter this phantom manor of workout greatness that had been hyped for so long.
Upon entering the huge facility atop the hill I was still abuzz with excitement, but within minutes of being inside I noticed one thing that was not conducive to my ideal exercise environment: the smell. To put it in terms much more pleasant than the reality of the situation: the aroma of the new paint combined with a hint of fresh floor wax and a tinge of rubber mats, balls, etc. was enough to make me lightheaded. I instantly pictured the warnings plastered on exercise equipment saying, “STOP IMMEDIATELY IF YOU FEEL SHORT OF BREATH, FAINT, OR DIZZY.” Of course, this problem cannot be blamed on poor planning and I readily admit to that. Any new building is bound to have an unfavorable odor due to its sheer, well, newness. So I took this first negative observation with a grain of salt – and a couple of Advil – and continued.
The next thing I noticed was the actual size of the interior. Aside from high ceilings that exposed the building’s multiple floors, it was not nearly as complex and exciting as it appeared from the outside. If you don’t take into account the pool, you can see pretty much everything from the front lobby. It is essentially one large box with a hanging track inside. Still not wanting to give up on my hope that this place would be my new Mecca of physical activity for the next year, I went looking for a fitness center staple.
One of my favorite ways to escape the monotony of the elliptical trainer or the stationary bike while still getting a good cardio workout is a hardy game of racquetball. The courts at the old gym were useable, but their appeal pretty much stopped there. I found my favorite little rooms in the new fitness center and, to my surprise, they found a way to alleviate the claustrophobic feel of old, enclosed courts: they turned one of the walls into a huge window looking out onto the whole gym. While this might be a more modern take on the game of racquetball, I find it very alarming.
Racquetball should not be a self-conscious game. In fact, most of the time you go out of your way to run into things, smash things and, basically, be the athletic equivalent of a kid having a temper tantrum. This is not, as you may imagine, the kind of showcase that you want visible to the passing track-runner. And speaking of things passing by, I tend to get distracted easily. If anyone were to walk by that window with some particularly shiny sneakers, I would be liable to get a speeding racquetball straight to the head.
Though the racquetball court issue was certainly more personal preference than actual flaw, I was beginning to become seriously disheartened. I decided that I better start the workout that I came there to do before I lost any more momentum. Thus, I was introduced to my final disappointment with the gym that I had no choice but to pay $98 per semester to attend.
I appreciate as much as anyone else the variety of equipment that the new gym gives us access to. But somewhere between the lower left kneecap press and the right lower-quadrant of the upper-middle thigh lift, I decided that if I wanted to be out of there before I graduate, I’d better just hit the free weights.
However, the weight benches at the new gym are so close together that I was not only concerned about dropping weights on fellow gym-goers, I was a little concerned about actually sitting right down on top of them. As in “Oh hi, I’m Alyssa, you don’t mind if I do my bicep curls on your lap, right?” Aside from a few of my more hormone-crazed male classmates, I think the general consensus would be “yes, Alyssa, I do mind. Why don’t you consider Pilates?”
I entered the new fitness center with great expectations and I left after facing hard times (no I am not talking about my reading material; who reads Dickens at the gym?). This is not to say that I will never go back. After all, a gym is a gym and I still value not becoming completely lazy and immobile. However, I am afraid I am back to seeing the weight bench as a dentist chair and the water fountain as a Water Pic – and those shiny new weights did bear a striking resemblance to the tools all lined up waiting to fill a cavity.
Alyssa Franzosa is a senior English major – hence the ridiculously out-of-place literary reference.
Bangor Daily News