16 Photograph by Devin Yalkin
Letter of Recommendation
I’ve never been in a gym I didn’t like.
Oh, there was the one in Paris where
the machines were so close together you
could taste your neighbor’s tartifl ette,
and there was the stale room in far South
Texas where, near as I could tell, I was the
only member and worked out under the
appraising gaze of a hard- bitten woman
who couldn’t keep herself from won-
dering how a man (she made the word
include a question mark) had so much
time for exercise. But even these were
antidotes to despair.
It used to be that artists were aller-
gic to exercise and relieved themselves
with absinthe and orgies. Now there are
spin classes. Not that I’ve ever attend-
ed a spin class, nor any other kind of
group exercise either. A good gym, like
a good bar, fuses two things: oblivion
and anonymity. Of course there are the
ritual greetings and glances and such,
but these should be minimal and strictly
proscribed. The stack of towels should
be so crisp and white that it expunges
all thought of other users. You shouldGyms
By Christian Wiman
be able to run on a treadmill until your
mind is entirely erased.
Of course these are illusions. Exer-
cise, like booze, can stave off reality for
only so long. But illusions are as essential
to the good gym as they are to a democ-
racy, and equally precarious. During the
presidential race in 2016, one of my fel-
low gym goers asked what I thought of
Donald Trump, and I immediately tore a
spiritual tendon. What I love about gyms
is their predictability, their moral clarity.
Do this right, and you are rewarded. Do3.22.Gyms can be an
antidote to despair.