Forgot to book that viral Pilates studio [1] weeks in advance? Better luck next month. Looking for a last-minute Vinyasa flow? Get in line. With the ongoing TikTok-ification of fitness, securing a spot in your favorite workout class can be more difficult than the workout itself. On social media, fellow fitness enthusiasts record themselves setting alarms [2] and planning their schedules just to snag a spot in class. But for those of us who can't always predict how we'll feel the next day (let alone the next week), this system can be a legitimate barrier to exercise.
Fitness studios only have so much space, so it makes sense that classes will eventually fill up. But according to Gillian Almedia [3], vice president of strategy and insights at solidcore [4], there's another reason why people are fighting for spots more often. "Fitness is no longer viewed as a purely transactional experience where you show up, work out, and leave," Almedia tells Popsugar. "As work has become more flexible and people spend less time in traditional social settings, fitness studios have increasingly become modern-day third spaces."
With workout waitlists going strong, it's clear people will go to great lengths to secure their spot in class. And it's not just the popular studios popping up on your FYP. I once booked a local dance fitness class three weeks in advance myself. Several weeks later, I took a chance on the three-person waitlist (and spoiler: I still made it in).
But the question remains . . . are these waitlists even worth it? "I hate a waitlist," says Popsugar health and fitness section lead Alexis Jones. "Maintaining a fitness routine is hard enough without the anxiety of getting denied for the workout itself." As someone with a chronic illness [5], this is a sentiment I definitely relate to. It can be difficult for me to tell when my body will send me into a flare. In most cases, I'd rather schedule a day-of workout than book in advance and risk a last-minute cancellation fee. But that only works if I manage to work my way out of waitlist limbo.
"I wake up earlier to book a class than I do to go to a class."
"I wake up earlier to book a class than I do to go to a class," one person writes on TikTok [6]. "How am I supposed to manage my schedule every week if I don't know if I'm getting into a class?" another laments. On the R/SolidCore [7] subreddit, Redditors share tips for getting off the waitlist as quickly as possible, going so far as to schedule text shortcuts for waitlist notifications. But the waitlist isn't a total dead end either. "I have never not gotten off the waitlist," one TikTok comments. "Hack. Get unlimited and sign up for all the classes weeks in advance," another advises, adding that waitlists are harder with limited class packs.
Workout waitlists may be frustrating, but to Almedia, they may actually point to a stronger sense of community in the fitness space. "I think a waitlist is often less about exclusivity and more about signaling that an experience is genuinely valued by a community," she explains. "A waitlist is often a byproduct of members prioritizing an experience they know they'll feel better after, whether that's because of the workout itself, the coach, or the sense of community they've found there."
As for the more spontaneous class members (like myself), Almedia has some thoughts there too. Namely: don't let the waitlist discourage you. You never know when a spot might open up. "People's schedules change constantly, and it's common for spots to open up closer to class time," she says. "If there's a class you really want to take, join the waitlist rather than assuming you won't get in." If the same-day booking truly isn't an option, be patient, show up, and get your money's worth . . . good things come to those who wait.
Chandler Plante [9] (she/her) is a staff writer and PS Fit Producer. She has over six years of industry experience, previously working as an editorial assistant for People magazine, a social media manager for Millie magazine, and a contributor for Bustle Digital Group. She has a degree in magazine journalism from Syracuse University and is based in Los Angeles.