Even though UCLA measures up as the smallest UC campus (an amazing feat considering how far I’m forced to walk between classes every day), the university’s aesthetic landscapes, numerous amenities and diverse student body have essentially embodied the “Quality over quantity” expression, earning Bruins a #1 Public University title for six consecutive years. And as a senior-level transfer student that spent her entire life working towards attending such an institution, you can definitely trust me when I say there’s only ~one~ major problem hindering my experience here: The UCLA gyms SUCK.
Many wonder how such a harrowing failure could strike a school like UCLA—with millions of dollars in funding funneling into the campus each year—but it’s a very real problem for the 32,000 undergrad students attempting to work out in two mid-sized gyms. Don’t believe me? Well, let’s take a walk through the experience of exercising at the famed John Wooden Center…
After inadvertently warming up with a half mile walk to JWC (not kidding, I just tracked the distance on Google Maps), I’m forced to fumble with the scan-in entrance gates that break ankles worse than Starship robots. The doors refuse to open, start screaming at me in front of the gym staff, then open for a brief second before attempting to stab my legs whilst sounding off more of the noisy alarms. Lovely.
In any case, we are inside! Grace: 1 – Entrance Gate: 0.
The next step of working out is storing belongings that could clutter up the Cardio and Weight Rooms (more so than the thousands of students already standing shoulder-to-shoulder, of course). Unfortunately, our favorite penny-pinching fitness center has instituted fees for locking lockers, thus everyone simply shoves their backpacks into a compartment and hopes to God no one steals anything. What could ever go wrong with relying on the honor system around a bunch of unsupervised college kids? I’m sure it’ll be fine…
Alright, time to get those gains! But wait, there’s something wrong—oh yeah, all of the stair-steppers are out-of-order, the treadmills are full and every weight machine is already tripled-up. We could wait in the lounge area, but then we’ll be run over by the dozens of sticky children arriving for gymnastics lessons. Hmm, we are really in a pickle here.
WAIT! It’s our lucky day, a squat rack just opened up! Let’s just grab a fresh rag to wipe the bar down wi—oh. No more rags. No more paper towels. Spray bottles are empty. That’s fine, everything’s fine, we’ll just leave our health up to God as well.
Anyways, if we can survive all of that, then nothing can bring us down! That is, until the judgy glares of other avid gym-goers seep down into the depths of our souls, telling us we don’t belong there. You’d think the simple fact of visiting the gym to improve our mental and physical health should be accepted, nay, celebrated, but no. Make no mistake, I love all of my fellow Bruins, but y’all are as judgmental as they come (at least in JWC).
Alright, three hours and two machines later, how’d we do? Not great, I know.
Living in Los Angeles as a young woman means that the dangers of running the streets severely outweigh the inconveniences of working out in one of UCLA’s subpar gyms. And even though I mercilessly complain about JWC every day of my life, I know I’m going to miss this whole chaotic experience very soon.
If you’re considering attending UCLA in the future, might I suggest really evaluating how high of a priority student gyms are on your list. If it’s high, plan accordingly! Trust me when I say, that’s a mistake you won’t want to make.