“Can a gym be a community?”

It’s a fair question. You’ve probably heard of gyms (or coffee shops, nail salons, and airline frequent flyer programs) describe themselves as a community, but do they mean it, or is it just a marketing gimmick? Surely, gyms aren’t automatically communities. They’re places where people often show up with individual motivations. They do their workouts, exchange some necessary pleasantries, and go on with their days.

But what if the gym in question has a shared origin story? What if it emerged when members of a previous, now-closed gym didn’t want to give up a space that they all treasured? What if they worked out in nearby parks, masked and six feet away, during the height of Covid? What if they show up en masse at each other’s birthday parties and laugh together at special Hanukkah and Christmas themed workout and erect a giant bounce house for the community’s kids during their annual Pride party? What if, when approached with the opportunity to open their doors for a community potluck, the collective response was “oh, that’s easy, we have potlucks all the time,”?

Well, then the answer’s pretty obvious.

When Dani Cirignano heard about the Interdependence Relay, she immediately nominated Fog City Community Fitness, her beloved gym. Fortunately, when she checked in with that community’s leadership as to whether they’d be okay with the nomination, they completely understood. Of course their community would be a good match for this event. They had always held the aspiration of open doors, of being the kind of gym that welcomed all ages and bodies. While they definitely have a solid spirit of competition, it’s of the encouraging, pushing each other variety. No bro-y gym judgments here. They’d even been asking the question lately, “how can we make our doors even more open to our neighbors, even those who will never join a gym?”

And so, in many ways, Thursday May 14th was like any other Thursday at Fog City. At 6:15, that evening’s class was still finishing its workout. Music blared, bodies lifted and jumped and crunched. And then, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, gym bags were joined by aluminum foil covered trays, tables were moved, and it was time to potluck. Kids swarmed onto the exercise bikes, New faces arrived, from up to two hours away, curious, and perhaps appropriately skeptical. The wall says community, but do they mean it?

Fortunately, it wasn’t up to one person to welcome newcomers. Fog City is a place where dozens of community members—staff and non-staff alike—feel ownership of the space. Before long, the dividing lines between gym members and relay visitors broke down. The vibes were good, but there was still something missing.

Movement! Because here’s the thing. A gym can be a community, but every community has a specific purpose, something it does better than other spaces. And in Fog City’s case, that’s moving, together. And besides, isn’t it obvious? What better way to commemorate a nationwide relay, in a gym, than with relay races. Three lines formed, and soon grown-ups and kids alike were passing medicine balls over heads and under legs, then running to the back, like an infinite snake. The high ceilings filled with laughter, which only increased for the next event. Musical chairs.

After the games completed, a few long-time members reflected on how relays like this have long been part of Fog City gatherings, “but they used to be different, lots more collisions and rough-housing, but that was before kids.”

As this memory was shared, a few of those Fog City children ran by. A nine, ten, and five year old. This too was part of this story. Not everybody here was a parent, but the entire community had watched the next generation grow up, feeling at home with the weights and ropes and house music soundtrack.

Again, there’s that idea of how communities thrive when they can fully focus on what they do best, on their reason for existing in the world. And Fog City is and always has been a community in motion, in multiple senses of the world. It’s not exactly the same place it was a decade ago, nor will it be precisely the same a decade from now. That’s what it means to keep your doors open, to be a safe place, but open to the world around you.

What commitments and/or declarations came out of the gathering?

You’ll see below that throughout the event, participants added their thoughts to a beautiful poster board at the front of the room, reflecting on why they keep coming back to Fog City, beyond the two workouts. A clear theme emerged from those notes, which was echoed in conversations through the night—a reframing of what it means to be strong, and what it means to feel safe. Fog City has succeeded not just because it’s a place where its members grow physically strong, but because it is also a place where the welcome they receive (and the knowledge that they’ve built the space together) adds to a feeling of collective strength and psychological and emotional safety. For a number of years, they’ve proven that they can provide that for each other. With their participation in the relay, Fog City took another step into that declaration—stepping up to the challenge of welcoming friends and neighbors into that circle of strength.
And what went in the box?

A limited-edition Fog City t-shirt, emblazoned with a pride logo and deliberately echoing the gorgeous mural that the community painted together in the fall of 2025 for their anniversary celebration. A tribute to strength, but not just as an individual aspiration. Strength as something that can only be found together, in community. And also, a Fog City pin, in the same color scheme, one of which was also given out to every attendee as a reminder that, whether they ever work out here or not, this space will always welcome them as well.