Breathe a sigh of relief, the giant turd sandwich that was 2016 is almost over. But instead of a new year’s resolution, I offer an anti-resolution. For 2017, I’m canceling my gym membership.

I have been a regular gym goer for most of my life. I enjoy group classes and general strength routines. But year after year, a constant stream of terrible people has eroded any enjoyment I get from the gym. These days, I wear a sunken hat to hide my eyes. I wear brightly colored earphones as a “leave me the hell alone” sign. I wear blank shirts to hide any affiliation. I slump and stare at the floor between sets. And yet, people still feel the need to insert themselves into my precious “me time.” It drove me insane (and out the door).

You know that guy who hogs a machine by texting on his phone for five minutes between sets? Yeah, screw that guy.

You know that girl with giant fake boobs who struts around the entire gym for attention? Yeah, screw that girl.

You know that guy who power-slams a bar/rack and scares the shit out of everyone? Yeah, screw that guy.

You know that girl who stops her workout to take Instagram selfies to show everyone she’s working out? Yeah, screw that girl.

You know that guy who tromps around the room with that “everyone thinks I’m awesome” Hulk stance? Yeah, screw that guy.

Screw the meatheads and their grunting. Screw the loud-talking drama queens and their carefully crafted outfits. Screw the posers who flex at the mirror. Screw the gym bros and their oh-so-subtle bro shirts. Screw the obnoxious thumping “music” that you can’t get away from. Screw the filthy animals who refuse to acknowledged the handy wipes. I’m done. Done, done, done I say.

Screw the gym. I used to like you, but now you’re a gigantic pain in my crack. As 2017 approaches, I resolve never to set foot inside you again. It’s time to enjoy the outdoors and embrace calisthenics in the silence and comfort of home. My cats may be furry little narcissists, but at least they don’t strut around the house like insecure douchebags.

One month later: Reclaiming My Workout, A Home-Based Guide

One year later: A Year of Calisthenics: The Verdict