“Dad, what are you doing here already?”
It was 6:20AM when my Dad found his Dad (my grandfather) sitting in his car in the otherwise empty parking lot of the factory.
“I wanted to make sure I wasn’t late,” my Grandfather replied.
“Late for what, Dad? You don’t have hours.”
My grandfather was in his 80s at the time and needed something to do.
So he would come to my Dad’s factory three times per week and sit at a makeshift table that had nuts on one side, bolts on the other and a small slide in the middle. My grandfather would count out 6 nuts and 6 bolts, move them all into the slide and slide them all into a little plastic baggie.
He did this for three hours a day, three days per week.
And, for sure, it was a job my Dad needed done but more importantly it gave my grandfather some place to go. Where he could not only spend some time with his son but also socialize with a few of the other factory workers who were also immigrants from my grandfather’s native homeland, Poland.
Needing something to do and someplace to go is very important for the elderly but it isn’t exclusive to them. We all need things to do and places to go. Even better if those things feel rewarding and useful and as if they advance our lives and those places are filled with like-minded and relatable people.
When we first started the gym I was absolutely obsessed with the product. My belief was that if we simply put the most effort and expertise into the design and execution of the training program people would flock to us because they weren’t getting that level of care and insight anywhere else.
And I still believe that is remarkably important. There is a reason that Kyle and I exclusively design every workout that is executed in our facilities. We owe it to our members to deliver the best training experience possible and get the most out of their time in the gym.
However, as the years have past, I have really come to realize much of the value of the gym also lies in having a special place to go. A place where you are participating in activities that lift you up and enhance your life. Where you feel welcomed and where people know your name. A place where you can be surrounded by others who value their bodies and their health and being in community with each other.
The world needs more places that fulfill that need. My grandfather had it at my Dad’s factory. We want our members to have it inside the walls of our gyms.
The concept of a “third place” - a place you attend regularly that is neither your home or your office - is not new but it is dying. As people get more attached to technology and become less likely to stop off at the same bar on the way home or attend church daily as we may have in the past, our lives can become stale and devoid of building new relationships.
And science does show that novel stimulus and relationship building are keys to driving happiness.
We love that people find that third place in our facilities and we welcome you to be a part of it. But if that isn’t for you for some reason I highly encourage you to find one that works. A pottery class, a community center, a book club - any place that makes you feel at home without actually being your home.
It will enhance your life for the better.
I realize that I write about dead people a lot here. Perhaps more than is appropriate for a fitness blog.
There was my grandmother and her Hanukkah jelly donuts. Dolores who invented the “Crispy Club” and sent my son crisp dollar bills in the mail. My great Uncle Victor with whom I share a middle name with and was killed in the Holocaust when he was just 4 years old. And my grandfather, who kept going to my Dad’s factory in some capacity until he passed away over 20 years ago.
And I get that it’s a bummer. And I know that I will get more than my typical number of unsubscribes after people read this one.
But that is an easy sacrifice to make. Because I feel like we can learn a lot from those who have come before us. And it feels important to me to speak of them as a way of keeping them alive.
Because angels are meant to be spoken of. And not kept in a box under the bed like some long forgotten souvenir.