I Loved You, ClassPass, But You Broke My Heart

I am giving up on fitness because of $65.

ClassPass, a popular fitness membership and my cult of choice, just increased its membership price from $125/month to $190/month, zooming from the realm of "Affordable If You Eat Only Peanut Butter Sandwiches For 50 Percent Of Your Work Lunches" into the faraway zone of "Don't Even Think About It, You Will Be EVICTED And Then Homeless And It Won't Matter How Tight Your Ass Is."

I have to break up with ClassPass. I have no option -- I just can't afford it anymore. And, like I'm living in some alternate universe where I am a Fitness Person, I'm getting shockingly emotional about not working out.

I joined ClassPass because I was (well, am) out of shape and severely lacking in self-discipline. The subscription allows members to take an unlimited number of classes at different gyms around New York City. The variety quieted my whirring brain, which stops me from running more than three miles not because I'm physically incapable but because I cannot entertain my mind for any longer period of time. It gave me structure and commitment. If I signed up for a class, I had to show up, or else absorb a steep cancellation fee.

In my first month, I took 20 classes. At the price of $125, I paid $6.25 per class. In a city where classes are almost always more than $25 each, this is absolute madness. I was robbing gyms, essentially, but I was doing it with a killer calves and well-toned arms. Steal from the rich and give to the hot-and-very-greedy, right!?

I don't blame ClassPass for needing to make money. I was a workout bandit at the old price -- they certainly weren't making any cash off me. But understanding the economics doesn't make the blow hurt any less.

In its wake, ClassPass is widening the gap between upper class, parent-subsidized yopros and those of us with entry-level jobs, making it (but just barely) from month to month in one of the most expensive cities in the world. Now that it's moved firmly into the same category as Equinox (where a membership is $210), it's officially a rich person thing in my mind.

I am aware there are other gym memberships. I can join the Planet Fitness down the street for $10/month. New York Sports Club offers memberships that include classes for $40/month. But this great hack, this wondrous grand tour of boutique studios with little disposable shower flip flops and free bananas and labeled water bottles, is over for me.

It was a peek into a different life. ClassPass was a boyfriend with a Manhattan studio apartment two blocks from my office. It was always too good to be true, but it doesn't make the inevitable end any easier. Bye, ClassPass. If you ever want me back, I'll be here, sweating profusely on a ripped up, communal, foam mat -- not crying because it's over, just smiling because it happened.