The story when we toured was that the gym is owned by a family whose primary business is in construction. Indeed, it used to be 2 gym businesses, but when the construction business did work on the other one, and wasn't paid, they got the gym next door and combined them.
There are advantages to belonging to a gym that's something of a hobby, rather than a primary livelihood, for the owners. It's always improving, for one. New landscaping. New ping-pong rooms. But not always in the ways you expect. I need to complain about 3/4 lights being out in the sauna.
"ping-pong rooms" and a dimly lit sauna?
Rebekah are you sure this is a legit gym or could it be something a bit more seedy?
I walked into the (then) new Golds' Gym in Greenville, North Carolina. I was greeted at the door by an annoyingly peppy, 20-something, 5ft lesbian-gymnast-cheerleader-Marylou Retton impersonator in boys' jogging shorts and an oversized canary yellow windbreaker with her hair cut so short and tight Sgt. Hartman himself would have been proud.
The aptly named "Bobby" then proceeded to launch into a confusingly long winded speech that she had obviously already given 14 times that day about the Gyms' schedule, available classes and hours of operation that was interspersed with enthusiastic self applause all while bouncing with startling speed from the ball of one foot to the other like a small child who desperately needed to pee and managing to completely avoid my attempts to interrupt her with questions about how much was membership and where they kept the free weights.
My optimistic and androgynous gymnast new best friend (who still had not stopped talking long enough to inhale and I was sure would pass out at any moment) then turned and led me through some sort of metal detector/turn stile that reminded me of taking the BART rail system in San Fransisco as a kid into some haphazardly arranged labyrinth of basketball courts, running machines, rowing machines and yoga classes filled with Men who smelled like hand sanitizer and fabric softener and I am almost certain got sore nipples and cramps when their wives were pregnant.
Still ignoring my questions and without inhaling.
After some time, I was led to a very small room in which the largest fixture was a 9 foot tall African American gentleman whom I am sure had just spent a considerable amount of time in prison and wanted to trade me for a pack of cigarettes, behind which were several rows of crap dumbells and barbells I could have bought myself at a yard sale. Bobby then introduced me to the overfed, oversized, sweaty African American fellow, though his name was something unpronounceable and he spoke with some sort of Caribbean accent and left me alone with my new new best friend, Mgumba-click-whistle (or whatever in the hell his name was). I was saddend by her departure, but glad she got a chance to breath.
Mr. Click-Whistle then proceeded to demonstrate with admirable enthusiasm his understanding of the human body and it's demands for physical exercise and the growth of muscle mass. (undoubtedly necessary when fighting off hordes of raging Rastafarians or your fellow inmate).
ALl while ignoring my question about pricing. (though I now knew more or less where they kept the free weights).
After this demonstration of Click-Whistles physical prowess, my new new best friend led me through a hall, and point out to me the location of the showers. My first thought was to avoid retrieving dropped soap at all costs, my second thought was "staph infection". Once that nightmare made reality was brought to it's conclusion, I was mercifully brought back to Bobby, my long lost Lesbian gymnast friend who then cheerfully showed me the counter where I could pay money for the awesome opportunity of repeating this tour de force the next day or at my earliest convenience, handed me a clipboard and pencil with a questionnaire about what my experience was like in touring their facilities as well as a brief description of my fitness goals and a few questions designed to offer some insight into my personality.
I left without joining.
Thanks for the perspective.
Wow! What a description!!
Sounds like the guy has no business running a gym.
Stick with your current gym.
CrossFit, while it has its merits, is not without its dark side as well. Although things have improved somewhat recently, there were reports of numerous injuries in the early days of CrossFit - largely due to under-trained and unqualified trainers who pushed gym members beyond their limits. As one approaches the limits of their abilities, form begins to break down. When form breaks down - especially when working with heavy weights and high reps - injuries happen.
In the interest of full disclosure, I've never been to a CrossFit gym. I prefer to train by myself. I have, however, competed against a number of CrossFit enthusiasts (as identified by their matching, gym-logo T-shirts) in local obstacle races. I can't say that I've beaten them all, but there haven't been a lot of them in their 20's and 30's who leave this 48 year-old in the dust (or mud, as it were).
My own workout regimen includes elements of CrossFit, P90X, Insanity and others. Most of these workouts are just taking something that's been around for years and putting a fresh face on it.
While I don't have any experience in Crossfit, it's got a pretty bad reputation in my circles. Also, this guy seems pretty upset with them.
(Warning for explicit language)