Because Fitness Is Next To Godliness

I went to the gym. And not just any gym; a Scottish gym, and it was hilarious.

The illustrious Jo T, international event planner to the stars, gave me and Nancy two leftover gift bags from a recent job. Included in the bag was a free pass to The Scotsman gym, newly built in the centre of town and rumoured to be something of a fitness mecca.

Where do I begin? Ok. Let me start by saying that I used to work at a gym. Many of you remember my long days of lifeguarding for cardiac patients at the Wellness Center, and a select few of you used to sneak in the back with me on my days off to frolic in the steam rooms and sip smoothies on the indoor track. The place was as sleek and polished as a robot arm and there are days when I really miss it. With warm memories of Wellness fermenting in my belly it was with some excitement that I climbed the long flight of iron stairs into the lobby of the Scotsman to meet Jo and Kirsty for a swim.

The first thing I saw was a man with a lower back tattoo; or, as we say in NC, a "tramp stamp." He was completely nude except for a whisper of blue swimming trunks and was eating what appeared to be a chicken leg. As we passed the weight room, I spotted another gentleman lifting weights while wearing what was most likely a cardigan sweater embroidered with festive sprays of flowers. It was with some trepidation that I realized we weren't in Meadowmont anymore. This was no robot arm.

Turns out the gym -- just like the schools, the bars, the banks, the post offices, the public transportion, the grocery stores, and everything else in this little country -- is decidedly Scottish and dammit if they aren't proud of it just the way it is. What did you say, American? You want clearly demarcated lanes in your lap pool? And a few underwater lights so you don't run into the wall? Not in Scotland, you don't. And that's the way it is. We'll set about you. Oh, we'll fool you with the juice bar and the free hair products in the showers, but don't forget that this is still Scotland and things that are supposed to be relatively easy are reduced to twisted maelstroms of confusion for absolutely no reason at all.

Whoa, I didn't mean to go there.

However: after the initial adjustment period where I laughed a lot and said things like "WHAAAT? FOR REAL?" we had a pretty great time paddling around the murky blackness of the swimming pool (I wasn't kidding when I said there weren't any lights) and jumped happily from the sauna to the steam room to the arctic shower and back again. I left feeling renewed and refreshed, just as if I had been at the Wellness Center. I guess you don't always need personalized fitness plans, free cardio bar class, and an endless supply of kiwi fruit to have a good gym experience. Turns out any old pool will do, as long as it's with a few good friends. (Cue triumphant synthesizer).