Staff writer Jake Tibbetts is both a cardio junkie and an utter misanthrope. Going to Dodge used to be the only way that he was able to satiate his desire to engage in fat-burning, blood-pumping behavior—until he moved to McBain. The McBain fitness room receives a fair share of flak, and in this piece, Tibbetts seeks to defend the merits of this odd little room that is one part sanctuary and one part liminal space.

Until two weeks ago, when I wanted to work out—which is, contrary to popular belief, something that I do, in fact, occasionally want to do—I did what almost any other health-conscious Columbian does on a semi-regular basis: I walked over to the Dodge Fitness Center. My routine was simple: I’d head up to the upper level of the fitness area, sign out an elliptical for thirty minutes, run, sign out a treadmill for another thirty minutes, run some more, wipe down, drink my beverage of choice, and leave.

From this point on, I am only referring to this room as “McGains.” (Just kidding. There isn’t any strength-training equipment in here.)

I didn’t go too often, admittedly—and that’s not just because I’m lazy. Dodge is a relatively long distance from most residence halls on campus, and walking there and back in little more than a pair of gym shorts and a worn-and-torn Elizabeth Warren for Senate t-shirt (my outfit of choice) can be a trying experience. Going there was, for someone who loathes social interaction or even just being near other people as much as I do, quite exhausting, to be frank. Also, the place just smells. A lot.

Earlier this month, I moved from Schapiro Hall down to McBain (for reasons of which I’m still not entirely sure, in all honesty). When stalking the floor plans of my new home, I was pleasantly surprised to see that on the fourth floor lies a “fitness room.” Now, these “fitness rooms” are relatively common in Columbia residence halls: Broadway, Ruggles, Woodbridge, Carlton Arms, and 47 Claremont all have one—and EC has two. As someone who had only lived in Furnald (ugh) and Schapiro until the beginning of this month, though, I had never really been exposed to this way of life. But now that I have been, I can’t see myself ever going back to my old Dodge ways.

The McBain fitness room, in particular, seems to draw a lot of criticism. Everyone seems to have something to say about it. It’s too small. It’s cramped. It features only two treadmills and a so-called “arc trainer,” which really isn’t anything more than a fancy-ish elliptical. There are no strength-training materials available. The television is hard to figure out. The smallest bits of noise seem to echo indefinitely. And it’s so damn cold all the time.

I can’t wrap my head around the animosity directed towards this little old gym. I’ve tried to understand it, trust me—but I just can’t. Sure, there aren’t any weights or strength-training machines… but strength-training is overrated and well-defined muscles are gross and unnecessary. Yes, the fitness room feels more like a closet than an actual gym at times… but that gives it a cozy, intimate feel that is hard to come by in the world of exercise. Yeah, there isn’t much equipment at all… but that means that far fewer people can enter the room at any one time, which, for misanthropes like me, is a wonderful thing. Fine, the television might be nearly impossible to turn on… but in the age of streaming services, that’s not really too much of a problem, is it? Yes, the cavernous room might cause any kind of sound to reverberate for far longer than it should… but who doesn’t want the entire fourth floor to hear him as he raps along to the entirety of “Shake Your Rump” by the Beastie Boys while jogging on the treadmill multiple times a week? (What’s that? Most people, you say? Hmm. Alright.) And sure, it’s absolutely friggin’ freezing… but I’d rather work out in a room that lowers my body temperature (to borderline unhealthy levels, I admit) than one that gives me a fever every time I enter. These alleged “drawbacks” of the McBain fitness room are, in all actuality, assets of the highest order, and I find it shocking that so many people fail to realize that.

Yes, I have showered the fitness room with quite a bit of praise. And it truly is a sacred place—one of very few that exist on campus. But don’t take what I have written here as a sign that I am recommending that you use the resources in this room whenever you want. I value my solitude, damn it, and I sure as hell don’t need anyone encroaching on it. This room should be a safe space for fitness-oriented recluses like myself, so if you’re going to use it, please at least try to stay away on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Wednesdays between the hours of 10:00pm and 11:00pm.

But I digress. This piece isn’t about me or my hatred of being surrounded by other people during the late evening. It’s about my deep appreciation of and love for a truly special little spot. Here’s to you, McBain 4 fitness room; you’re a real one, Dodge rats and other haters be damned.

Slim-inal space via Jake Tibbetts