There once was a time in which life seemed simpler for those of us who wished to be of healthy body. Foregoing those charitable eras in which a slight portliness was seen as desirable, the focus seemed to have largely been on sliminess. The message had been consistent. Avoid excess size. In recent times things have become more complicated and, one might suggest, more challenging. It is no longer enough simply to aim for svelteness or avoid largesse. The make-up of what has been left behind is increasingly important. Sculptured abs, tight buns and broad shoulders are the modern make over target. Slimness is no longer enough.
I don’t remember who was to blame for this change in perspective, but I do recall that at sometime in the 1980s either Jane Fonda or Arnold Schwarzenegger persuaded me that it would be a good idea to join a gym. This was a strange decision for someone who would spend their school physical education lessons hiding in the showers. Mostly in order to avoid the minimal uniform and clamminess of such lessons, but also because the vast majority of the class were in the bathrooms and I didn’t want to miss out on a social event.
The new brand of confident gyms sweeping the nation in the 80s was not an environment in which I felt comfortable, making it odd that I should enter one and sign myself up for a monthly all access membership. Gym, classes, racquets and spa were all included under a one off costly joining fee and repeated exorbitant monthly payments. There are some, I am sure, who made full use of the facilities and considered this money well spent. I am not embarrassed to report that I was not one of them. In my defence, I did try. Encouraged by some cajoling from the membership office and my personal training ‘advisor’, I went to class after class. I could always be persuaded to try the latest fitness obsession: aerobics, step, jazzercise, yoga, free weights so on and so forth, to find out if the newest development could finally light the fire of exercise that had stayed dimmed within me for so long. I didn’t take to any of them and seldom returned for a second try.
I didn’t take to being screamed at to cycle faster, I didn’t take to being cajoled to squat deeper, or lift heavier. I didn’t take to the grunting and groaning of those who were as new to these gyms as I was, but who trained as if they were preparing for the Olympics. I also didn’t take to the mirrored walls that meant I could see every sweaty contour of my body. Equally, I did not take to the shared changing facilities and communal showers, full of people with a relaxed approach to public nudity. But I particularly did not take to the goals I was set. The targets that I was given and the measurements that were taken every time I stepped inside the gym.
I did not want to be graded and monitored in my leisure time. Self-improvement has never been a driving force for me either inside or outside of work and I did not want to spend my down time being judged. I also struggled to see how my gym goals would improve my life. I never needed to bench press large masses, I seldom lunged into or out of my house and any decrease in waist circumference would have simply led to the costly update of my wardrobe.
My goals did not make me more suited to my lifestyle. The only time I would have benefited from an improved five kilometre run time, was if I ran five kilometres, which I never did. The fitness targets the gym set me were not suitable for the things I did, or how I lived my life. Health is relative. It does me little good being able to trek miles across the savannas in pursuit of game if I can find it in the chilled section of my local supermarket. Conversely there are some, who without this ability would perish. I would have preferred it if the goals of my activity would have been to enjoy it, to have fun, to feel better about myself, but exercise in the 80s was about punish and reward. Seldom did we focus on the way we felt.
So, OK, I admit a little less puff going up those stairs might help and that being able to play with kids and walk dogs into old age would be desirable targets and had the gym decided to test me on these I may still be going. Alternatively, I may be doing these things instead, as they all seem to help. So, my conclusion, if I need one, is fine, if you like gyms keep going. If you enjoy sweating in public and being shouted at, sign up for the classes, if you don’t, don’t worry about it, just get outside and have some fun.
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