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Illustration by Alex Deadman-Wylie
I want my old gym back.
I’ve been going to the gym for most of my adult life. I’m 60 now, in good shape and still work out at least four times a week. I’d also like to think I’m a pretty open-minded guy. But lately, I’ve been wondering – when exactly did gyms start turning into daytime nightclubs?
My wife and I recently moved and joined a new gym, one conveniently located halfway between work and home. It made sense since we like to work out after the daily grind. But from the moment I stepped into this shiny new place, it felt like I had walked into a completely different universe – a louder, tighter and far more revealing universe.
Now, let me set the scene. Our old gym was smaller, a little more intimate. It had a calm vibe and a slightly more mature crowd. People came in, got their workout done, maybe shared a quick nod or short conversation and went home. Phones were kept quiet and gym outfits were, you know, designed for exercise. But this new gym? This place is lit – literally and figuratively.
The phone guy
I hopped on a stationary bike, ready to get into the zone. A man sat down 30 feet away and immediately launched into a full-volume phone call. He was so loud I could hear every word through my earbuds. At first, I thought he was trying to impress someone with his loud conversation about where to have dinner that night. But it soon became clear: this wasn’t performance art. This was just … normal. At least to him, not to me.
I tried to ignore it, but after five minutes of unintentionally learning about his entire dinner plans, I couldn’t take it anymore. I got off the bike, walked over and said, “Hey, I didn’t come to the gym to listen to you talk on your phone.”
He looked genuinely surprised – like I had just asked him to stop breathing – and said, “Oh, sorry,” then hung up.
I went back to my bike feeling victorious. Briefly. Then slightly embarrassed. Was I the grumpy old man in this story? Or was he just … completely oblivious? (Honestly, both might be true.)
The stretching area
I moved on to the stretching zone, thinking it might be a little more peaceful. Nope. Instead, I found myself in what I can only describe as a TikTok fashion shoot in progress. Many of the younger women (not all, but a lot) were wearing outfits that would be more at home in a Miami club or the beach than a weight room.
Now, I’m no prude. And I don’t go to the gym to ogle. But where am I supposed to look? The ceiling? The floor? My shoes? The “Employee of the Month” plaque?
Eventually, I realized I was the only one who seemed uncomfortable. Everyone else was just doing their thing, rocking crop tops, sports bras and tights that defy the laws of fabric. So I smiled politely, tried not to trip over my own dumbbells and got on with my workout.
Is gym etiquette a thing of the past?
I started wondering: What happened to sweatpants and baggy T-shirts? When did it become totally fine to wander the gym talking loudly on your phone like you’re in your living room? When did workout wear start looking like VIP bottle service attire? And why do I feel like I need a bouncer and glow sticks just to get a good stretch in?
Maybe it’s just a generational shift. Maybe I’m just getting older. Or maybe the gym has evolved into a hybrid social-media stage, social lounge and fitness space. (Heavy on the “social.”)
So these days, I turn up my music a little louder to drown out the personal calls, smile at the fashion-forward crowd and remind myself: hey, they’re in great shape, too.
I even heard that in some parts of the world, gyms are leaning into this full-on nightclub vibe – strobe lights, DJs, thumping bass, protein shakes served like cocktails. I don’t know about you, but I’m not ready to hit the treadmill under a disco ball just yet.
So what’s next? Foam parties in the gym pool? Workout routines designed for table tops? I’m not sure. But if it keeps up, I might just start bringing sunglasses to my workouts – just in case the lights get too bright.
Kirk Hochrein lives in Georgetown, Ont.
