How We Lost ‘Gym Culture’ (and How to Get It Back)
At my local Blink Fitness, now called PureGym , I recently worked out with another woman on the assisted pull-up machine. The atmosphere was a real relief. No one was rude when we shared the machines, there was no sense of competition, and there was a certain safety and solidarity in the fact that there were only two women in that section of the room at that moment. For a moment, the gym felt like a place of both catharsis and camaraderie. Unfortunately, that moment only made me realize how rare this kind of shared gym culture has become.
Honestly, I don’t know if gym culture ever really worked for me. The stereotype that it’s all about “bros,” right? I’m no Joey Swall , the self-proclaimed “CEO of gym positivity,” one of those influencers with a manic positivity that’s either off-putting or inspiring, depending on who you ask. As someone who occasionally goes to the gym, and as a woman, I’ve always felt the need to find the perfect balance between exuding confidence and being a bit unnoticeable. That’s not exactly a recipe for community.
So I could say a lot about what this article doesn’t cover. It’s not about how to “be a woman” and avoid sexual harassment. It’s also not about studios that have their own world and policies based on Pilates.
Today, I’m focused on something simpler and broader: the quiet demise of gym culture and what’s been lost as independent home workouts become increasingly high-tech and accessible. My work has deepened this strange distance. I spend my days testing the latest smart rowers , adjustable dumbbells , and steppers —equipment so sophisticated and convenient that the question isn’t whether you can replicate a gym workout at home, but why leave at all. I’ve tried enough gear to fill a small fitness studio, each promising professional results without the commute, membership fees, or potential uncomfortable interactions. And it works. The technology is truly impressive.
But something was lost in this seamless transition to convenience. I write this now with a somewhat naive, romanticized perspective, wondering what my life might have been like had I been a large, friendly man in the idealized gym culture of the past. From this perspective, what exactly is this ideal gym culture I imagine? And is it worth mourning something that perhaps never existed for everyone?
The quiet disappearance of the gym-going culture
With the rise of smart home fitness technology, we’re sacrificing community for convenience, and that may be impossible to regain. Echo Wang, a certified yoga teacher and founder of Yoga Kawa , says, “The gym used to be a social anchor. People went there not just to work out, but to feel part of a community.” Now, as home fitness equipment has made home workouts easy, the gym atmosphere is gradually disappearing. Wang says that watching someone else work out next to you provided additional motivation—it was contagious. These conversations between sets kept things interesting, whereas working out alone at home can make it easier to skip a workout and lose momentum.
Even those who still go to gyms exist in isolated worlds: noise-canceling headphones block out the clanking of dumbbells and the ambient energy that once made gyms come alive. Eye contact is gone, small talk is gone—only repetitions and personal playlists remain. “Convenience keeps you going,” says Wang, “but being part of something bigger keeps you coming back.”
Dr. Jesse Shaw , an associate professor of sports medicine at the University of Western States, says his training philosophy was built on competitive drive. From his military days to his current work in collegiate sports, he strived to be the biggest and fastest in the gym, and when he failed, it drove him to train harder. He sees how home technology can fill this gap, citing how Peloton has built a community and culture around its equipment that mimics this motivational aspect.
But Shaw has also witnessed a disturbing change. He’s noticed a frustrating shift among dedicated gym-goers who want to focus on serious workouts without filming them or waiting for others to finish creating their “workout” content. As I recently wrote , posting workouts online has become less about documenting personal progress and more about demonstrating fitness for an audience—a shift that is fundamentally changing the gym atmosphere itself. The era of the classic “meathead”—big, strong men lifting serious weights—is largely a thing of the past. Shaw also notes a change in group dynamics: during his military service, he felt comfortable working out alone, and would simply ask someone nearby for a spot if needed. Now, he sees most people coming in groups and generally avoiding effective weightlifting.
Shaw believes that the convenience of home workouts, born out of social and health necessity, remains a valuable option. However, he has witnessed numerous gym closures due to low attendance and a slow recovery in membership. Technology has changed both the pace and focus of workouts for current members, creating a need to document and share workouts online for a sense of accomplishment. Some home technologies, like Peloton, rely heavily on social features, fostering a culture and shared desire to improve and compete in leaderboards.
The type of gym you visit matters
The cost and type of gym play a huge role in the dynamics of training. My colleague Lindsay Ellefson shared how, while teaching spinning at NYU’s public gym, which is free for students, she found the atmosphere to be sociable, friendly, and truly student-like. But at her current “elite gym,” the atmosphere is much more insular, and everyone seems somewhat reserved. Along similar lines, I spoke with a friend who owns a gym in his apartment building. He told me how interacting with people you know as neighbors can be safer and easier than interacting with complete strangers in a larger facility.
Chris Herbert, founder and owner of The Gym Venice , believes that cultural degradation affects deeper layers of society. He is particularly concerned about low-cost, high-profile fitness clubs, where minimal financial and personal investment leads to the disappearance of individual responsibility. This lack of accountability creates dirty, disorganized, and dangerous spaces. These gyms are places people use, not belong.
Herbert observed a clear cultural transformation: people once trained together, noticed each other, and chatted between sets, but now most train in isolation, with headphones on and eyes averted. There was a time when entering a gym felt like entering a Cheers club, where everyone knew your name. The sense of community has largely given way to convenience.
This shift is partly driven by accessibility: today, answers to virtually any learning question can be found online, without the need for in-person interaction. While access to reliable information can accelerate progress, it cannot replace the responsibility, camaraderie, and shared energy inherent in learning with others.
Herbert emphasizes that the social aspect of training is one of the most underrated factors for improving effectiveness. When you train with others who notice your efforts, encourage your development, and hold you accountable, you naturally push yourself harder, maintain greater consistency, and enjoy the process more. This sense of belonging not only contributes to better results in the gym but also to improved mood, self-confidence, and overall mental health.
How can we revive the gym culture?
To rebuild this culture, Herbert suggests starting small. Introduce yourself to regulars, offer to spot someone, ask questions, and celebrate their consistency. These simple interactions remind us that fitness encompasses social, emotional, and deeply human aspects that go beyond the physical. The gym should be a place where people not only get stronger but also feel part of a community.
Smart fitness technology has made training more accessible: you can follow programs, track your metrics, and receive feedback without leaving home. But while this convenience eliminates friction, it also destroys connection. The human elements of training—cues, corrections, and shared energy—truly contribute to long-term progress and self-fulfillment. Smart technology may make training easier, but it will never replace the power of human connection.
I’m still testing out equipment at home. I still appreciate the convenience of being able to roll out of bed and immediately get on a rowing machine, without having to navigate complicated social situations or wait for equipment. But I’ve started going to the gym twice a week, trying to figure out what this whole workout culture could mean for someone like me.
Perhaps the ideal gym culture I envision—where people feel part of a community, where community thrives—has always been more accessible to some than others. Perhaps it was never perfect. But hey, even imperfect community is better than isolation. And maybe, if we intentionally strive for it, we can create something better than what came before—one shared set on the machine, with the support of pull-ups, at a time.