I’m someone who’s never been fond of change. In fact, I hate it. I’m sure I’m not alone in this feeling—there are plenty of people who dread change just as much as I do. When I go somewhere, I want things to stay the same. I remember a trip to Pandua with my college friends, and I didn’t want it to end. During school, I couldn’t wait for it to be over, but when it finally ended, I didn’t like it. The same happened when I was in college—I didn’t want it to end. Even when I was studying animation at Arena, though I didn’t enjoy it at first, on the last day, I didn’t want to leave. We never want things to end—good times, friendships, relationships. But inevitably, they do, and that’s just how life is.

Why am I writing this? Because, in late July, I faced yet another ending. This time, it was my gym. For nearly four years, I had been going to Sweat Out on Park Street, my first gym ever. It became a part of my routine after COVID, when I realized I needed to focus on my health. The gym was close to home, affordable, and located in my favorite part of the city—Park Street. It felt familiar, like home. Yet, as much as we tried to go regularly, work always got in the way. One day in July, after missing a few sessions, I called my trainer to let him know I’d be back soon, only for him to tell me the gym was shutting down. I was stunned. I didn’t know how to react or what to do next. The thought of finding another gym, of starting over, overwhelmed me.

The hardest part wasn’t just losing a place to work out—it was losing what the gym meant to me. It was more than a gym. It was a place where friendships were formed, where no one judged you, where you became part of a small, tight-knit community. The staff, the trainers, the regulars—it was an experience I won’t get back. At the time of writing this, I’m now at a new gym, but I’ve yet to form the same kind of connection. Part of me doesn’t want to because I know one day, this too could end. In fact, I already experienced a small change at the new gym. There was a trainer, Sushmita, who Andrea and I had connected with. But after a brief break, we returned to find she had left. Another change, just like that. And it’s hard to process.

Sweat Out had been around for 30 years, and I can’t even begin to imagine what my trainer must have felt, having worked there for over 20 years. The gym had to close because the owner was in debt, the equipment was aging, and eventually, it was converted into an office space. I visited on the second-to-last day, spent time with my trainer, gave him a gift, and tried to convince the owner to reconsider. But deep down, I knew it was over. On the last day, we took lots of photos and videos, reminisced about the memories, and a few old members came back to see the place one last time.

Though the official closing was July 31, 2024, no one showed up on that day—it was too heartbreaking. Walking back home afterward, we passed new gyms. They were more expensive, more commercial. They lacked the warmth, the sense of home that Sweat Out had. I knew then that I wouldn’t find that same essence again.

This story isn’t just about the gym. It’s about the inevitable changes we face in life. Some things can never go back to how they were. Life keeps moving, and we’re forced to adapt to something new, something different that eventually becomes our new normal. That’s just how it is—you grow, you move forward.

The only thing I took from Sweat Out are the memories—memories I’m grateful to have created. I’m still in touch with the friends I made there and the trainer who became a part of that experience. Things will never be the same, but at least I walked away with something good. It’s bittersweet. And though this is a story about changing gyms, it’s also about something more. It’s about accepting that change is constant, even when it’s hard to swallow.

I’ve joined a new gym now, coincidentally run by an old school friend. It’s part of my new normal. But I know one day, I may have to leave this place too. One day, it may shut down, or people will move on. And there it is again—another change.

But that’s life. Change is inevitable, and so are the bittersweet memories that come with it.

“The only constant in life is change.”