EXTREME FITNESS

Usually junk mail doesn’t even get by our front door. It goes straight to recycling. But a flyer for a local fitness centre caught my eye with the promise of two months at the gym for only $12.

For the past few weeks, Terry and I have been talking about joining a health club. With the return of my energy, I realize that I’ve got to get off the couch. Although I’m doing a bit of running/walking now, I’ve not made fitness a priority. Terry enjoyed weekly yoga classes last fall at the local library and would welcome a more frequent exercise regime.

The invitation to join Extreme Fitness arrived at an opportune time and within the day, we had set up an appointment with Tasha to view the facility.

A busy parking lot surrounding the gym made me realize that we live close to a hub of activity. With some trepidation, we entered the building where a courteous receptionist greeted us. As we awaited Tasha, a familiar looking young man in a light suit descended a flight of stairs and approached us with a friendly smile on his face.

“Hello sir, welcome to Extreme Fitness. Remember me, I’m Jonathan P.”

Jonathan was a former Brebeuf student back in the nineties. A music prodigy, I seem to remember him going on to York University.

“Hi Jon, we’re here for a tour,” I replied, a bit taken aback by this chance encounter.

“I’ve worked here for the past three years at the executive level. I think you’ll like it at Extreme Fitness,” he enthused.

Just then, an athletic looking Tasha arrived for the tour. She whisked us by a glassed-in swimming pool filled with paunchy looking seniors. Maybe I would fit right in.

We toured an open two leveled area at one end of the centre replete with banks of ellipticals, treadmills, indoor bikes and host of other machines I couldn’t identify. Banks of flat screen TV’s clearly hailed Ellen DeGeneres as the people’s choice this morning. Next we visited a spacious weight room with a vast assortment of equipment for every body type. Trim looking personal trainers stood out from patrons like lifeguards at the beach.

Minutes later, we were ushered into an office area for a sales pitch.

“So, what did you think of the facilities?” Tasha asked.

“It looks great to me,” enthused Terry, never one to hold back her thoughts.

“Do you have yoga classes?”

“Of course we do,” came a quick reply. “How about you sir? What did you think?”

I really didn’t know what to think. The facility looked first rate but on this bright April day, something inside me yearned for some sunshine.

“It seems fine,” I mumbled. “Can we talk about price? We got this flyer and…”

“We’ll get to that in a minute,” replied our tour guide turned saleslady.

She asked Terry and me what our fitness goals were and explained how Extreme Fitness could help us achieve them. Then the guilt question,

“Sir, on a scale of 1 to 10, how much do you value your health?”

Having spent more than half of last year in the battle of my life, how could I answer anything but 10. Would you believe I still answered 8? That’s my innate jerk factor kicking in whenever I’m given a Hobson’s choice.

“But the price,” I groveled.

“Well, we can set you guys up for $58 a month,” she replied in a friendly manner. “That price includes access to all of our gyms in North America and of course, free towels.”

“What about the flyer?” I reminded her.

“Oh, of course, the first two months would be $6 each,” she confirmed.

Quickly doing the math, my misgivings about the price began to melt away. Two dollars a day sounded too good to be true. However, any daydreams about my new chiseled looking body quickly evaporated when Tasha added,

“I think you have to admit that $58 each really is a great price for access to such wonderful facilities.”

EACH! She must have noticed the frosty look on my face as I countered,

“I doubt we’ll be visiting a gym if and when we did travel and about the towels, I think we can bring our own.”

“Well in that case, we can set you up for $48 each a month,” she replied without missing a beat.

A price of about $1200 a year still seemed too high for Mike McScrooge.

Tasha, sensing my discomfort, then offered politely, “Sir, just what is the price you’d be willing to pay?”

“Well, I think $800 for the two of us seems about right to me,” I responded tentatively.

“I noticed that you were talking to Mr. P. from corporate when you walked in. Maybe I could….”

“Don’t go there,” I snapped. “I don’t want any favours. Just quote me your best price.”

After huddling for a few moments with a supervisor, Tasha returned with the triumphant look of a student who had just heard she’d aced a math test.

“Sir, we can do it for you, $800 is just fine. Now, here are some contracts to sign.”

At that point, I realized the game was over. I had won the prize that I really didn’t want. I think Terry knew all along that the timing wasn’t right for me to enter the world of the super-fit. Heck, a doctor’s visit in four weeks time would revisit the reality that I’m still a cancer patient.

“I think we’ll pass. But thanks for your time,” I said as I stood to leave.

“Sir, I can see you’re just not ready for us.”

What a smart girl.