The gym junkie
You will see him outside the gym at the crack of dawn, anxiously waiting for the security guard to unlock it. His gym bag is bulging with carefully-packed essentials (shoes, gloves, protein shake and towel) and he constantly checks his Fitbit as he runs on the treadmill. He leaves glistening lines of sweat on all the benches and makes guttural sounds as he squats with impressively large barbells tottering on his shoulders. His vocabulary is rife with these words — pecs, macros, beasting it, cheap reps, DOMS and gains. He carries all his food in Tupperware containers (lean protein and vegetables, mostly), and when he wants dessert, he microwaves chocolate whey powder and egg whites and calls it a brownie.
The gluteus ‘minimiss’
She is the cynosure of all eyes when she enters the gym, daintily treading in, feet clad in neon-pink trainers (with sparkles). Her ponytail sits at an angle of exactly 108 degrees to the plane of her head, and her lips are perfectly glossed.
She wears small diamonds in her ears, which sparkle in the gym lights, as she sways gently on the elliptical. Her T-shirt matches her trainers (and possibly, also the gloss), and her track pants mould her perky behind ever so nicely. She doesn’t sweat, she glows. She picks up weights with all the grace of someone gathering wildflowers, sprints like a gazelle and makes burpees look poetic.
She is also the one most besieged at the water-cooler by Roving Romeo (see next).
The roving Romeo
Illustration: Sreejith R. Kumar
Most people have specific goals when they hit the gym. Some want to lose fat, others to gain mass, or perform better. The Roving Romeo has a specific goal too — he wants to find love. He tries to find it on the treadmill — risking grievous injury to limb and dignity — as he tries to catch the eye of the young lady running next to him. He smiles at another, as he pumps iron. It doesn’t work, of course. Instead, he strains his shoulder and it becomes a grimace (sort of like the smile the Beast offers when he is trying to court Belle). He sends Facebook requests and when an unsuspecting PYT accepts, he bombards her with a thousand messages, alarming her so much that she blocks him and switches gyms.
The lazy daisy
You will know her if you see her in the gym, weaving around the machines, with a dispirited expression on her face. She hops onto the treadmill, glancing at her cell phone, as she trudges away on the belt for all of five minutes. This is followed by a leisurely round on the stationary cycle, chatting with her neighbour, about how one can make “healthy” paani-puris by stuffing them with sprouts instead of potatoes. Her weights are light — plastic two-kilogram dumbbells that she lifts, complaining all the while to her trainer that her arms hurt. Her favourite part of her workout is almost inevitably savasana , or the massage that she will head out for, soon after.
