Fitness: Hop, hop, hop on the self-torture machine

They toil, toil and sweat. They tamper with bulky equipment. They strain, bend and stretch their bodies in unhealthy-looking ways. And they are not paid or compensated in any other way for this, but – on the contrary – they grotesquely pay a sum of money every month to be allowed to exert themselves physically to the point of complete exhaustion: the fitness-impaired.

The gym, this penultimate punchline of late capitalism, represents in a very small space the world in which we have to live today: we constantly engage in an activity that is devoid of any sense, and afterwards we have less money in the account.

I’m not sure that in a better future the gym, the treacherous twin of the factory and the office, should not be abolished. Here, in this desolate, neon-lit, roof-and-four-wall parade ground of modernity, there is nothing that is conducive to relaxation, not half a square meter that allows a normal person to have leisure and rest. It’s a shame that these mind-numbing treadmills disguised as leisure centers refer to themselves as “studios” as if in derision, a term that was once reserved for artists’ studios and other places of work.

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For decoration, as if to disguise the fact that this is a kind of limbo in which modern slaves of their own free will perform stupid forced labor on their own bodies, two tables and a few uncomfortable-looking chairs have been set up on one of the walls, but never someone is sitting here. Anyone sitting is suspicious. Here there is gymnastics, servitude, crafting and no sitting without a break. Here you are a servant, not a master. Here you can live out your own masochism with impunity. Here, existence is not exhausted by waiting for death; here people do gymnastics and sport eagerly to bring it about.

Not only the surroundings, the brightly lit room with its countless, carelessly lined up self-torture machines on which the arduous drudgery takes place, is reminiscent of a factory hall, the overall atmosphere is also similar to typical piecework places: people monotonously carry out the same hand and leg movements, lifting Weights, not to carry the load from A to B, but just to put it down in the same place on the floor afterwards. People walk on moving treadmills, panting, while they remain in place: the thought of a hamster wheel is difficult to ignore when looking at this.

The gym, this penultimate punch line of late capitalism, represents in a very small space the world in which we have to live today.

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Everything is empty, stupid, completely futile movement and activity for its own sake: hop, hop, hop. One, two, three, four, and again, again and again. It is known that soldiers and dogs, if they are not particularly bright, take a mysterious pleasure in such stupid actions. There is no trace of a ghost and everything is training. In particular, the men, who move like automatons and appear mentally dead, wear the same sports uniform: a camisole and short synthetic fiber panties that show off their woolly, hairy legs. An unspoken law that can never be broken seems to be that everyone, without exception, has to carry around a square, asymmetrically shaped tin or plastic container filled with water at all times.

And from loudspeakers of a quality that you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy, you’re constantly being bombarded with tinny-sounding building society pop or the most infamous techno hit boom-bum while you’re carrying out activities that are both uniform and exhausting. Everyone present seems to be completely indifferent to this constant acoustic torture. Apparently, possibly as a result of the continued overuse of their muscles and the neglect of their stunted sensory perception, they have become so dull and mentally and emotionally disturbed that they have long since become accustomed to their daily or weekly stay in one of these Guantánamos located in the middle of Berlin. Except that the fitness-impaired don’t have to wear orange prison overalls.

What is certain is that the whole fitness ordeal, properly understood and applied, could also offer an enormous advantage. No less a person than Bertolt Brecht once pointed out: “Of course, the largest part of the cultural production of the last decades could have been prevented with great ease through simple gymnastics and practical exercise outdoors.”

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