The gym I have called home for countless, mostly pre-dawn workouts since 2004 will close its doors on Sunday, a product not of America’s increased demand for workout space but rather for glitzier, high-end training facilities.

L.A. Fitness, which purchased and rebranded our former Lifestyle Family Fitness in 2012 adjacent to the Countryside Mall in Clearwater, Fla., is building two new Globo Gym-caliber centers. Thus, our gym is too small. Just as the AMC 4 movie theaters that formerly operated out of the space in the late 1990s were deemed inadequate for moviegoers seeking stadium seating, our gym lacks the sprawling floor plan and other amenities – swimming pool, basketball courts, etc. – of the modern L.A. Fitness.

So 12,000 square feet no longer is enough for a movie theater or gym. In a world in which granite counter tops and leather car interiors have become standard, it makes sense that gym rats will settle for nothing less than what Ben Stiller’s character White Goodman operated in the 2004 movie “Dodgeball.”

I’ll miss our version of “Average Joe’s,” which opened late in 2002. Not the chipped equipment, stained carpeting, and locker room doors falling off the hinges. Not the broken air conditioning that requires portable units or the refusal of L.A. Fitness corporate to replace busted wall clocks or paper towel dispensers, let alone cardio equipment.

But I’ll miss this eclectic community of early-risers I’ve hung with since 2004, when I was an out-of-shape new dad embarrassed to look in the mirror shirtless and call myself the co-author of Core Performance, the just-published fitness book I was honored to write with performance guru Mark Verstegen.

When we began work on that book in 2002, I visited gyms and could not locate many of the now-standard workout devices that Mark’s training program required like medicine balls, foam rollers, and Swiss balls.

Over the next decade I dropped 25 pounds, embraced triathlon, SUP and endurance sports, and chronicled these booming training niches, including yoga, functional movement, and obstacle races, transitioning from mostly a sportswriter to mostly a fitness writer. I marveled that group cycling or “spin” class, which since 2004 I’ve taken under the whip of physical therapist Alyssa Kay, has become an expensive New York phenomenon.

I’ve seen a lot of folks come through the doors of our gym, including fitness models, bodybuilders, and the occasional pro athlete. I watched Mike Timlin extend his career as a relief pitcher into his 40s and pick up two World Series rings with the Red Sox. I saw Rays pitcher James Shields, then 29, show up all winter at 6 a.m. after an embarrassing 2010 season, and then finish third in the 2011 A.L. Cy Young voting. Then there was Darnell Coles, a scrawny outfielder who never hit more than 20 home runs, who bulked up in his retirement and joked that he was plotting a comeback at 45.

My neighbor, Hall of Fame triathlon race director Fred Rzymek, pulled me into spin class in 2004, became my triathlon mentor, and for years has served as my training (and accountability) partner. As with any community, I’ve watched people marry, have children, divorce, and pass away. After 14 years, I’ve gone from one of the youngest in the building to one of the older ones. The other day I peaked in the “Kid’s Club” area where I’d leave my sons when they were toddlers. They’re now 15 and 12.

Friendships have extended beyond the gym. Our spin class took a memorable field trip in 2009. One of the most devoted young women in the gym works as a wine distributor rep, though I’ve learned that it’s counterproductive to attend too many of her wine tastings.

As newer gyms and fitness studios have opened, people have drifted away. I’ll run into former members at Chipotle or the yoga studio and they’ll recommend their shiny new facilities. I’ve always stayed put. Maybe I like the tough-it-out, Rocky Balboa mentality of the place. Maybe I like that it’s exactly 3.1 miles (5K) from my driveway.

Maybe I’m just a creature of habit.

L.A. Fitness toyed with the idea of closing our gym in 2012 after purchasing the Lifestyle chain. Reportedly The Cheesecake Factory was interested in the space, perhaps an appropriate commentary on our sedentary society. There are no immediate plans for the building, but with its many acres of unused mall parking, a car dealership seems likely. As with The Cheesecake Factory, that seems sadly ironic.

I don’t know where I’ll end up. Maybe I’ll train at home. Perhaps I’ll go to yoga regularly or paddleboard more.

Maybe I’ll drive further to go to the new L.A. Fitness GloboGym.

Whatever I decide, I’ll miss Average Joe’s and the people it created.