For a nation that is a little on the chunky side, the UK is surprisingly obsessed with fitness. Perhaps it’s a classic case of hope over experience. Two-thirds of the population may be overweight, yet on any given day you can find oodles of case studies in the media about people who successfully fought the flab, or who are fitter at 60 than they’ve ever been.
As for TikTok and Instagram, you can barely pause for a biscuit before you’re confronted by some sweaty mess in a vest flexing their biceps or demonstrating what an amazing plank they can do (or, indeed, are).
Being generally fit and healthy is plainly a good thing. I’m also very aware that maintaining a decent level of fitness (and weight) is easier for some people than for others, weight-loss drugs notwithstanding. We live in a world that is full of temptation and convenience: fast food, entertainment on demand and cars all encourage sedentary idleness.
In this context, it feels a little mean to discourage anything that can act as a counter to our lounging lifestyles. And if it were simply the case that we all went quietly out for a jog, or played football or netball on a Sunday morning, I’d be all for it. But the fact is, for many people it’s not merely doing the exercise that matters; it’s the being seen to do it that has become an end in itself.
And the place that inspires this vanity more than any other is a place I despise: the gym.
I say I despise it. I’m 46 and have never been to a gym, aside from a mandatory induction when one opened at my school 30-odd years ago. I think I also popped into a health club once to buy a Twix from the vending machine.
I may be an outlier. Nearly a fifth of UK adults are currently members of a gym, according to a report last year by PureGym, while 17 per cent are considering becoming members. There are presumably a very significant number of casual users, and others who used to go but have subsequently found better things to do with their lives.
In part my reluctance stems from an instinctive conviction that the whole fitness industry is essentially a money-making scam. You can run for free around your local streets or park, return home to enjoy a shower in the comfort of your own bathroom, then perhaps sit in your kitchen with an isotonic drink if you must.
Alternatively, you can pay £50 a month to run on the spot while listening to other people grunt around you, before waiting for a grubby shower cubicle to become free and finally paying an extra four quid for some sort of protein shake. Incredibly, millions of Brits plump for the latter.
But putting the financial absurdity of the thing to one side, it’s the preening that really gets to me. And yes, I know that not every gym user is a raging prima donna who drools at the glistening vision of themselves in the full-length mirror. And I’m sure there are many gym bunnies who don’t boast about how many “reps” they’ve just done on a weight bench and who don’t flex and pout for sweaty selfies at the end of each session. Nevertheless, there appear to be plenty who do.
And I’ve no doubt lots of them feel great after their “amazing session today guys!! xx” – self-indulgent narcissists often do.
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It’s part and parcel of our age, perhaps: the endless self-documentary-making that we all do to some extent, but which we should all do more to resist. When it comes to fitness, there are plenty of other ways to stay in shape that don’t involve showing off. Run in the woods; do weights in the privacy of your bedroom; play a team sport. Or if perspiration really isn’t your thing, eat a carrot and go for a walk. Photographic proof isn’t required.
I write all this in the firm knowledge and soft fleshy evidence of my own relative lack of fitness – but while also recognising that I am lucky currently to be in good general health. The sum of my daily exercise is walking to and from the railway station, augmented by occasional games of pickleball with my 10-year-old son. I know that really I should do more, especially as I approach my sixth decade.
However, if ever I find myself tempted to head to the nearest gym, I must remember to turn around and run hard in the other direction. In every sense, that would do me good.