When I walk through the streets of New York, I pass strange rooms where people are doing strange things.

    Some folks are attached to madly spinning wheels. Others are straining to keep metal bars from crushing them. Still others jump around in unison as someone yells at them.

    It all looks like something out of Dante's Inferno. And the most amazing thing is that people are paying to endure these trials.

    The strange rooms are gyms, and I've been an on-again, off-again member of the cult over the years. My wife, Clarissa, and I have also purchased some of these machines of torture for home use.

    I did a back-of-the-envelope calculation for our spending on gyms and fitness equipment over the past 27 years. It came to $8,500. Pretty big money considering there have been numerous years when we spent nothing.

    Clarissa drove me nuts back in 1982 when she purchased a $79 six-month membership at a gym and went exactly three times before it expired. She explained to me that she didn't feel comfortable going to the gym until she got in better shape.

    Isn't that the point of working out? 'Women will understand,' she told me the other day.

    Some 41 million Americans are health club members, more than twice as many as in the late 1980s, according to the International Health, Racquet and Sportsclub Association. Historically, 12% of memberships are signed in January, the most of any month, as Americans vow to knock off their holiday flab.

    I've come full circle on the gym question during my life. They're worth it if you use them. But you can keep in good shape spending a lot less money.

    I lifted weights for a while during high school. But growing up in California, I mostly kept fit by biking, bodysurfing and playing endless pickup games of basketball and touch football with neighborhood kids.

    At the age of 23, I got my first job at a daily newspaper in the California desert. The mind-numbing heat made outside exercise an ordeal. I remember standing in line at some farming banquet and passing by a mirror. I took a look at my growing paunch. I joined a gym.

    Since then, I've alternated between going to a gym and working out at home. I've usually looked for grungy gyms -- the sort of places where the weight-lifting equipment is in good shape but there isn't a whole lot else.

    From 1989 to 1995, I covered the auto industry for the Journal. I lifted weights twice a week at a delightfully unpretentious place called Muscle's Gym, just outside Detroit. I paid as little as $200 per year.

    I called the gym recently. It now charges $250 a year. 'We're as far from the contracts and fancy gym as you can get,' said owner Jerry Cuppetelli as weights clanged in the background.

    You can't find these gyms in every city anymore. Too often, it's a fancy gym with lots of bells and whistles. If you ask how much it costs, the person at the front desk often won't know. Instead, he'll want you to meet with a 'fitness consultant,' who will pressure you to sign a contract. It's a bit like buying a car. You may end up feeling like you need a shower -- before you even work out.

    Working out at home has its problems, too. We've all heard horror stories of people buying stuff they didn't use. I have one. In the late 1990s, I attended a spinning class and thought it was one of the best workouts I had ever had.

    So I bought a $700 spinning bike for home use. I tried a few workouts and found the position reaggravated a neck problem. End of spinning workouts. The $700 bike leads a lonely existence in our basement.

    Now I'm back to the cheapo approach to fitness. I walk a lot. And I do Pilates or calisthenics on my living room floor most mornings. Total cost: $60 for an exercise mat. It's not exactly Dante's Inferno, but I'm working on it.

    我走在紐約的大街上，會(huì)路過一些奇怪的屋子，里面的人在做一些奇怪的事。

    一些人緊貼著瘋狂旋轉(zhuǎn)的單車輪。一些人使足吃奶的力氣免得鐵棍把自己壓扁。還有些人步調(diào)一致地跳來跳去，旁邊還有個(gè)人對(duì)著他們大喊大叫。

    所有這一切看起來就像是但丁《神曲》中的《地獄篇》。最有意思的是這些人是在花錢買罪受。

    這些怪屋是健身房，多年來我都是它們時(shí)斷時(shí)續(xù)的會(huì)員。我和妻子克拉麗莎（Clarissa）還買了一些這樣的"刑具"放在家里折磨自己。

    我粗略地計(jì)算了一下過去27年來我們?cè)诮∩頃?huì)員卡和健身器械上的花費(fèi)。總共是8,500美元。考慮到其中有好多年我們分文未花，這個(gè)數(shù)字可是筆不小的開支。

    1982年克拉麗莎花72美元買了張健身俱樂部的半年卡，但一共只去過三次，這簡(jiǎn)直要把我氣瘋了。她向我解釋說，她感覺在身材改善前去健身房不自在。

    改善體形難道不正是健身的目的所在嗎？那天她對(duì)我說，女人才會(huì)明白。

    據(jù)國(guó)際健康及運(yùn)動(dòng)俱樂部協(xié)會(huì)（International Health, Racquet and Sportsclub Association）的數(shù)據(jù)，美國(guó)大約有4,100萬人參加了健身俱樂部，數(shù)量是上世紀(jì)80年代末的兩倍多。歷史數(shù)據(jù)顯示，有12%的健身會(huì)員卡是在 每年的1月份辦理的，是所有月份中最多的，原因是1月里美國(guó)人都發(fā)誓要減掉節(jié)日里長(zhǎng)出來的肥膘。

    我這輩子在健身房的問題上繞了一大圈，又回到了起點(diǎn)。如果你充分利用健身房的話，辦張卡就是值得的。不過不必花那么多錢，你也可以擁有魔鬼身材。

    我上中學(xué)的時(shí)候曾經(jīng)有段時(shí)間練杠鈴。但是由于我是在加州長(zhǎng)大的，我的大部分鍛煉都是騎車、沖浪、在籃球場(chǎng)上不停地揀球、和鄰居小孩玩橄欖球。

    23歲的時(shí)候，我得到了自己的第一份工作，是在加州沙漠中的一家日?qǐng)?bào)社。讓人頭腦發(fā)昏的炎熱天氣使戶外鍛煉成了一種折磨。我還記得有次在農(nóng)場(chǎng)晚宴上排隊(duì)的時(shí)候，路過一面鏡子。我看了看鏡子里自己日漸發(fā)福的肚腩，決定加入健身俱樂部。

    此后，我有時(shí)去健身房有時(shí)在家健身。我通常找那些條件不怎么樣的健身房，那里舉重器械很不錯(cuò)，不過沒有太多其他的設(shè)施。

    從1989年到1995年，我負(fù)責(zé)《華爾街日?qǐng)?bào)》汽車業(yè)的報(bào)導(dǎo)。我每周會(huì)到底特律市外一個(gè)叫Muscle's Gym的健身房練兩次舉重，這個(gè)地方毫不矯揉造作，讓我很高興。當(dāng)時(shí)我每年只要交200美元的會(huì)費(fèi)。

    最近我給這家健身房打了個(gè)電話。現(xiàn)在的會(huì)費(fèi)是每年250美元。健身房的老板杰瑞？庫(kù)普泰利（Jerry Cuppetelli）說，我們可不是那些價(jià)格貴的要命、花哨的健身房。電話里還隱約有杠鈴的當(dāng)當(dāng)聲。

    如今你已經(jīng)無法在每個(gè)城市都找到這樣的健身房了。很多健身房都很花哨，裝備齊全。如果你問年費(fèi)是多少，前臺(tái)的人常常不知道。相反，他會(huì)讓你見一見"健身顧問",那個(gè)人會(huì)說服你簽份合同。這有點(diǎn)像買車。甚至在你還沒有開始健身之前，你已經(jīng)是大汗淋漓，想沖個(gè)澡了。

    在家健身也有在家健身的問題。我們都聽說過有人買東西卻不用的恐怖故事。我就有一個(gè)。上世紀(jì)90年代末，我參加了一個(gè)動(dòng)感單車班，當(dāng)時(shí)我認(rèn)為這是我做過的最棒的健身項(xiàng)目之一。

    所以，我花700美元買了一輛動(dòng)感單車放在家里用。我曾試過幾次，但是發(fā)現(xiàn)運(yùn)動(dòng)的姿勢(shì)讓我的頸部問題復(fù)發(fā)加重了。動(dòng)感單車就此告終。現(xiàn)在這輛700美元的車孤獨(dú)地呆在我們的地下室里。

    如今，我又回到低價(jià)健身法。我經(jīng)常走路。很多個(gè)早晨，我在自家起居室的地板上做普拉提或是健美操。總成本是：一個(gè)練習(xí)墊60美元。家里還沒有到但丁的《地獄篇》的地步，不過我在努力。