Where this crazy idea started

My buddy Tom kept whining about his volleyball games hurting folks’ knees. “That cheap concrete floor is brutal!” he’d say. So I got this wild thought: what if I slapped down hardwood? Like those fancy gyms have. Looked simple enough online videos. Yeah. Famous last words.

Dragging home way too much wood

First, measured Tom’s garage court. Wrote numbers down all careful, felt real smart. Went to the lumber place and pointed at the “Maple Hardwood – For Gym Floors!” sign. Guy behind the counter smirked and said, “You sure, pal? That’s some heavy duty stuff.” I waved him off like I knew things. Ha. Paid an arm and a leg for stacks of those maple planks. Needed a whole separate trip just for the sawdust glue buckets and those weird metal bits they call “fasteners.” Truck groaned all the way home.

Took me a whole Saturday just getting the old floor flat-ish. Used this long level thing. Found bumps everywhere. Like the concrete had zits or something. Ground ‘em down with my electric sander until the whole garage looked like a snow globe. Threw down some thin foam stuff the internet recommended. Felt kinda cheap, like carpet padding. But the tutorial swore by it. “For shock!” they said.

Wood + Glue = Pure Chaos

Started squirting that thick brown glue onto the foam. Man, that stuff STANK. Made my eyes water something fierce. Opened the garage door wide and kept going. Plopped the first maple plank down. Seemed okay. Did two more rows thinking I was king of this project. Then came back next morning ready to rock… and realized the boards near the door had popped up overnight! Curled like potato chips. Moisture got in, probably from the open door. Felt real stupid. Had to rip ‘em all out.

• Attempt Number 2: Bought this giant dehumidifier. Ran it for two days straight before trying again. Made the garage feel like a desert. Glue went on smoother this time, boards laid down flat and stayed put. Took forever though – crawling on my knees, whacking each plank with this rubber mallet to make it snug. My back screamed for days after.
• The Trim Trap: Thought I was almost done. Then the edges looked rough. Needed these special corner pieces. Cut ‘em messy at first. Sawdust flew everywhere, my glasses got coated. Got smarter – measured five times, cut once. Still fought getting those sneaky little transition strips nailed down over the concrete lip. Hammer slipped. Smashed my thumb. Pretty sure the neighbors heard me yell.
• Sanding Hell: The worst part. Rented this giant drum sander. Thing bucked like a wild horse! Held on for dear life praying I wouldn’t gouge a hole right through my precious maple floor. Took multiple passes. Filled the air with dust so thick I couldn’t see Tom waving his arms for me to stop. Had to wear a mask and goggles like I was painting with hazardous goop. Ended up smooth as butter eventually… after half a lifetime covered in sawdust.

Tom Plays Guinea Pig

Dumped like ten coats of that slippery gym floor finish. Waited a week – felt like a year – for it to harden proper. Finally gave Tom the keys. Watched him take his first running jump serve on that maple floor.

“HOLY–!” he yells, catching himself. “Feels like actual gym spring! Legs don’t hate me!” His team dove for balls next game without wincing. Even the weird old guy who usually complains just grunted, “Not bad.” High praise.

Would I do it again? Hell no. Too much sweat, too many headaches, wallet’s still crying. But seeing those folks bounce around pain-free? Yeah. That part’s pretty good.