“We’ve ordered extra towels. We’ve hidden our grief. We’re ready,” reports local fitness center manager.
NATIONWIDE—As the calendar prepares to flip to 2026, fitness centers across America are steeling themselves for the annual January invasion: thousands of highly motivated new members who will, according to industry data, abandon their resolutions by the first week of February.
“We call it ‘The Surge,'” explained Travis Mendez, assistant manager at an Anytime Fitness in suburban Ohio. “They come in waves starting January 2nd. They take photos of themselves on the treadmill. They ask how the machines work. They’re gone by Groundhog Day. It’s beautiful and tragic, like a butterfly that only lives six weeks but thinks it’s going to live forever.”
Preparations Underway
Gyms across the nation report implementing “January Protocols,” which include hiring temporary staff, ordering additional cleaning supplies, and training employees to maintain encouraging facial expressions despite knowing what’s coming.
“Last year, we signed up 340 new members in January,” said Mendez. “By March, 312 of them had stopped coming entirely. Four of them still owe us money. One guy left his water bottle here and never came back for it. It’s been eleven months. The water bottle is still in lost and found. We’ve named it Kevin.”
Regular gym members, meanwhile, have begun adjusting their workout schedules to avoid the anticipated crowds. Sources confirm that 4:30 AM slots are now “the only safe window” for those who actually use the squat rack.
The Lifecycle Of A Resolution
Fitness industry analysts have identified a predictable pattern among January gym joiners:
Week One: Enthusiasm peaks. Instagram stories are posted. Workout clothes are purchased. The phrase “new year, new me” is deployed without irony.
Week Two: Soreness sets in. Attendance drops to every other day. The phrase “rest days are important” is Googled.
Week Three: A work deadline or minor cold provides a convenient excuse. “I’ll get back to it next week” becomes the internal mantra.
Week Four through Forever: The gym membership becomes a monthly $49.99 donation to a building the member no longer visits but feels guilty about whenever they drive past.
Staff Morale
“We try not to get attached,” admitted one personal trainer who requested anonymity. “You see them come in, full of hope, asking about protein powder. You want to believe this one’s different. But then February comes, and they’re gone, and you’re wiping down a treadmill that someone used for eleven minutes before deciding cardio ‘isn’t for them.'”
The trainer paused. “I’ve seen things. Jeans on the elliptical. Sandals in the weight room. A man once asked me if the sauna would help him ‘sweat out carbs.’ You learn to let go.”
Gym owners, however, remain publicly optimistic. “Every January member is a potential lifelong fitness enthusiast,” said one regional manager, reading from what appeared to be a prepared statement. “We believe in them.” He then looked directly at the reporter and added, off the record, “Please don’t print that I laughed.”
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