I know you read the title of this post and a song silently filled your head. Or maybe even a few bars escaped your lips. Visions of fit men, dressed up to go out for a night of sweaty, frivolity whisked through your cranium. But that is not the YMCA I speak of.

Almost 24 years have passed since I stepped foot into a real YMCA. My last memories of the Y are of taking swimming lessons. If I remember correctly I was in the newspaper with a few other kids hanging off the side of the pool kicking away. I also got a gift certificate for pizza at Noble Roman’s and an iron on when I completed the class. Ah, childhood. Nothing could make you happier than a free pizza and an iron on. Except for maybe free game tokens to have with the pizza and iron on, but that’s not my point.

I am now, again a member again of the Y. I joined just last Monday. It’s a bit of an odd feeling actually as I didn’t realize that they existed anymore outside of my memory. A bit of a egocentric thought mind you, but a real one none the less.

The building that houses my YMCA was built in 1929. It has always been a Y. When you walk in it’s not like modern gyms you see today. The gorgeous wood paneling and floors almost clash with the high tech treadmills and televisions that hang bolted to the walls in the cardio room. There is, however, an amazing feeling to the place.

It’s a very winding old building. Lots of rooms and stairways that go weird ways and it’s easy to get turned around. Kind of like my own Hogwarts, but without the ghosts. But I can imagine the people who walked those halls before me. Young men (and eventually women) doing wholesome activities that no one would ever write songs about…oh wait….never mind…moving on.

When you roam the building (as I did because I was very curious and if a door wasn’t locked I figured that meant I could go in) there are artifacts here and there that remind you of the buildings history. Like the small corridor which now houses plumbing; up in one corner an old speed bag platform hangs. In the spinning room you can still see the faded lines and stands in the wood floor for ten pin bowling.

These little touches, as unintentional as they are make me love going there even more. Even on the days when I visit Princess Paula’s Pink Palace of Pilates Pain.