>Resolutionary War

>This column originally appeared in the Nashville Scene.

The crash was so loud, I could hear it over the Beastie Boys track thumping on my ear buds.

Clutching the elliptical handles, I peered back over my shoulder just in time to see a middle-aged man scramble to his feet in the row of exercise machines behind me. He laughed nervously and stepped back onto the treadmill, casually studying its buttons as though the machine hadn’t flung him to the ground seconds earlier. I looked at the woman on the Stairmaster beside me and we both smiled and rolled our eyes. There’s only one thing that makes a crowded gym bearable in January: Newbs.

Of course, there’s a first time for everything, but you have to admit that something about the way the gym fills up right around the new year is sort of hilarious, particularly when you look at all those determined faces and consider that the gym will be back at half capacity by March. Add to that the fact that most Gym Newbs don’t like to ask questions and betray their Newbiness and you’ve got major slapstick potential. Perfect example: the man in jeans and loafers who hopped onto the elliptical beside me recently and proceeded to go to town on the thing like he was an old pro — except that he never actually pushed the “start” button. As we pedaled side by side, I debated whether it would be worse to tell him he was doing it wrong and embarrass him or to let him go on “exerting himself” in ignorant bliss.

I said nothing.

“You wouldn’t have believed it,” my husband said just the other day, a wicked smile on his face. “I was at the Y and some Newb dropped this really heavy weight. It was like gunfire. Everyone turned around.” I chuckled appreciatively. For us, making fun of Newbs has become an annual tradition, a way to while away the impossibly dull stretch of time between December and March.

As an added bonus, Newbs make Hubs and me feel better about the fact that we don’t get to the gym as often as we should. We’re used to weathering the “Haven’t seen you here in a while” comments, but come January, Newbs mercifully steal away the glaring spotlight of sloth. Yeah, we both seem to have gained 10 pounds since you last saw us — but hey! Look over there! That Newb still has tags on her exercise gear!

See what I mean?

Of course, there’s a downside to Newbs. They’re the ones, after all, who fill the parking lot with their cars, making me either circle the Y like a piranha for 10 minutes or park a half-mile away and convince my two small children that walking in below-freezing temperatures is really, really fun! And there’s nothing worse than waiting in line for a fitness machine while watching a bunch of Newbs “work out” on them. I’m sorry, but if you’re pedaling that exercise bike on Level One while texting and drinking a Coke, you’re just taking up space. My space.

But I’ve come to learn that if it’s bad for the vets, it’s far worse for fitness center employees. We can laugh at the Newbs and point fingers. But they’re supposed to act thrilled that so many Newbs have bothered to show up.

“Yeah, it’s definitely bad when we hear someone drop a weight,” a fitness center employee confirmed to me recently. “It happens, like, every half-hour in January. The people I work with look at each other and we want to say something like, ‘THOSE NEWBS!’ But we can’t. Instead we have to be all, ‘Oh, it’s so great you want to use that dumbbell. Sorry about your toe!'”

According to her, though, the ultimate Newb vs. Vet showdown happens in spin class, an hour-long torture session that’s so popular, bicycles have to be reserved before the class begins.

“You wouldn’t believe the screaming on the phone when these people learn all the bikes have been taken,” my friend snorted, shaking her head.

“Screaming?” I said skeptically. “Really?”

“Yes. Screaming,” she replied. “At 5 in the morning. Here they’ve been coming to class for a year, and suddenly, for the very first time, the bikes are all gone because a bunch of Newbs called in even earlier than they did.”

I think back to a Facebook status update I read recently. “Got my ass up to go to spin class this morning at 6, only to find all bikes taken!!” a man lamented. A woman responded, “There was nearly a fistfight at spinning class this week between the Established Faithful and the Newly Motivated.”

I think I’ll just stick with Zumba, where it’s safe.

In the end, I use the Newbs as my unwitting opponents in a very personal version of Survivor. I must outlast them. I must. I must continue showing up at my gym even after every last Newb has returned to his TiVo. A $1 million prize would make a fantastic incentive, but I will be content with retaining the ability to zip up my jeans.

2010 is my year. I can feel it. I will be the last one standing in March. For the first time ever.