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I resolved to go to the gym in 2008. But I haven’t gone yet and the excuses are running out.

The reason? When I look through the window of a gym, I don’t see a gym. I don’t see weight machines, cross trainers and rowing machines.

No.

I see a dungeon full of instruments of torture from the 17th-century. I see sweaty bodies grappling with big machines that have pulleys, wires and black weights that go clank when you drop them. I see people spinning spinning and spinning on one-wheeled bicycles that go nowhere.

And treadmills. Running is bad enough, but running and not moving? I got on a treadmill once. It made me feel like a hamster.

I’m not sure what it will take to remove this association between gyms and 17th-century torture chambers.