Thursday, January 18, 2007

Where Everybody Knows Your Name

Think where man's glory most begins and ends,
And say my glory was I had such friends.
--William Butler Yeats
I have mentioned before that I belong to the Best Health Club On The Planet. I even (tee hee) "model" for the club on its website. To say that I enjoy my health club would be woefully incomplete. Sure, it has great equipment and luxurious locker rooms. But, there's a club run by the same company that is two blocks away in another building that has even more space, even better equipment, and even more luxurious locker rooms.

I never go there.

Then why this weird attachment to the Best Health Club On The Planet? It's the people.

I have tried not to dwell too much on my own condition the last three months. If you think I have, I apologize. No one wants to read a constant, self-absorbed pity party. But (like most people who get injured) I have been depressed and very challenged to motivate myself. This was compounded with not running as fast or as hard as I wanted in the marathon. In times past, this would have led to more than a year of inactivity and unused gym memberships. Eventually, I would have to "become" a runner all over again. This time, hard as it was, I never stopped. I never stopped because I knew there were friends that wanted me to keep going.
Some of the best friends were the people who work at the club. When I first joined, I was always greeted with a very respectful "good morning Mr. [Real Name]" when I came in and a "have a good day, Mr. [Real Name]" when I left. Over time that changed.
I attended the first spin class that Coach T taught, and Coach T paced me in the last 3 miles of my best marathon to date, and suffered my slow rehabilitative pace in this last go round. Maria Gratia was my first personal trainer, and is now one of the closest friends my family has. Dr. J, the anatomical genius trainer and future chiro, has encouraged me through my injury and is as committed to my Ironman Wisconsin effort. All of these people, and everyone at the club, now greets me by my first name, and they all care if I succeed.
This is the final added touch. At the Best Health Club On The Planet, many of us have personal lockers with our names engraved on the locker door. This is mine:
locker
Greyhound. How sweet is that? Gather around yourself friends like that. If you do, you can never truly fail.

15 comments:

TriJack said...

That makes it so much easier to drag yourself to the gym knowing that's where your peeps are at... Nice...

Shelley said...

LOVE IT!!!!!

Flatman said...

Now THAT is too cool...

Wendy said...

Fab-u-lous!!!

Veeg said...

Medal, schmedal. THAT is some bling worth havin'. :)

TriBoomer said...

Schweet!

Stay tuned...

Laurie said...

Awwwww. That is so sweet. You are one lucky Greyhound.

Nytro said...

the only thing on my locker at my gym? rust.

you. are. spoiled.

mishele k said...

Lucky!!

21st Century Mom said...

Knowing that someone will wonder where I am has always been the single biggest motivator for me. That's why I joined my masters program.

These guys really have your number!

Habeela said...

Yup, and I bet the buzz is pretty sweet too! :)

ironjenny said...

very nice, Mr. Greyhound... ;-)
Jenny

Carrie said...

Man--I'm jealous. I was just bragging about how much I love my new gym, but no personalized locker for me!! That's it, I'm moving to Houston (or not).

Bolder said...

that is suh-wheet!

Comm's said...

Its the customer service that you get the personalized service of the staff that will keep you paying your dues long after you stop going, which i hope you don't.