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Tests from the Temple of Sweat
March 2000
by H. R. Wood ’64
The new fitness room at the Payne Whitney Gymnasium opened last year with the mission of getting the Yale community into better shape. But it has already accomplished quite another goal, becoming the place where Yale gets together. The Adrian C. Israel Fitness Center—which sports no fewer than 156 machines, from ergometers to stairclimbers—is as close to an Italian market square as the University is likely to get.
The fourth-floor facility (which is just down the hall from the spectacular new Brady Squash Center) attracts all kinds of people—from varsity athletes to staff from Sterling Library and the development office—from shortly after dawn until deep into the night. Stunning examples of youthful male and female anatomy mingle happily with more senior members of the community sporting wrinkles, spare flesh, and smooth pates. While there is much darting of eyes as the more attractive visitors go through their routines, no one seems to look down on the under-conditioned. One of the moral virtues of the place is that the out-of-shape can take inspiration from the fit, while the fit can take caution about their future from the soft.
Many of the exercise machines are equipped with helpful maps of the human body indicating the muscles—pecs, abs, delts, lats, and so forth—the devices are designed to strengthen or enlarge. A small crisis erupted when the batteries that power the digital displays on the rowing machines began to disappear. It turned out they were being pinched by musically inclined visitors whose Walkmans had run low on power. (Bright yellow tape now secures the battery ports.)
Although there is some subtle jockeying for the most sought-after machines, most of the users are remarkably courteous and helpful. “Sir, you’re likely to end up with back problems if you keep rowing like that,” whispered a varsity oarsman to a veteran sweating away on an erg some weeks ago, and then proceeded to demonstrate the proper technique.
But much of the communicating is silent, carried on in the messages displayed on the T-shirts worn by the visitors as they puff through their reps and sets.
Some of the texts are not for family consumption, alluding to sexual endowment and staying power. But others are appropriately uplifting. “Confidence, Discipline, Self-Worth, Education, Teamwork,” reads one that shows up most weekdays around 5 o’clock. “Making Good Things Happen on Seventh Street,’ reads another heading for the track downstairs in the Lanman Center. “Look at the World Through Women’s Eyes,” advises a third.
The more competitive contingent is well represented by a shirt proclaiming: “Pain—It Lets You Know You’re Not Dead.” Some can get fairly aggressive. Examples: “Don’t Mess with the Bull, You’ll Get the Horns,” and “A New Den for Every Wildcat.” A young woman with the broad shoulders and narrow waist of a swimmer indicates her specialty with, “Life’s a Beach, Then You Dive.”
And then there is the category of social outreach. Shortly before the playing of The Game on November 20—won by Yale in a thrilling last-seconds finale—a confident undergraduate strode up to the free weights in a blue number bearing the message, “Friends Don’t Let Friends Go to Harvard.”
But lest anyone think that fitness has become a universal concern on the Yale campus, consider the shirt that reads: “Body by Television.”  |
