Is the title inappropriate? Maybe, but it felt quite clever when I came up with it, so it stays for now. If I get complaints, it might have to go.
Anyone who knows me will know that prior to January 2022, fitness was not my thing. I’ve told my running story before, not on this site, but the link is there if you wish to check it out. I started running for fitness, pure and simple. I got chest pains over Christmas 2021, and after seeing a doctor was advised to lose weight. I needed to do some exercise; the nights were dark, so I bought a running machine and did the couch to 5k.
I don’t enjoy running; it is functional. I like the hours or so after, but never before and only occasionally during. I overdid it in September, doing a 100km challenge, and then in October running 5km every day. That turned it into a chore, and I realised I wanted something else to focus on, so I could run three times a week but do something three other days.
Whilst on my honeymoon, seeing perfectly honed figures around a pool with a six-pack, me hiding my Lur-pack under a sun shade, I decided that would be the gym. There was a gym on the complex as well, so I hit that a few times to get some running in, and had a look at some of the machines. On the flight home, I decided to sign up.
I hate the gym more than I hate running. I hate the egocentric mirrors (there to check technique, apparently), which are just used to grimace and flex muscles. I hate all the big lads lifting the equivalent of a bungalow whilst I could manage something that weighs the same as a camping chair. Most of all, I hate being a newbie at anything. I hate being in an environment where everyone knows what they are doing, and I do not.
Three times, I decided to go to the Merdian Leisure Centre gym in Louth. Three times, I drove down Upgate after being in town, dead set on turning left and heading to the gym, only to turn right and head home inexplicably. Talk about a barrier; I had an entire mental block. I couldn’t ever see myself stepping into the gym, so I did what I always do when I know I have to approach a task that I don’t want to do. I tell everyone I’m going to. It’s where the ‘do you run’ jokes came from. The only way I kept my running up was by telling everyone I was doing it. That way, if I didn’t, I’d look foolish, so I kept it up. I use this tactic a lot, even down to certain articles I know I have to write. If I announce an article before it’s written, it means I’m struggling to write it. I got my book published five years ago because I told everyone I would. No choice after that.
That’s what led me to the door of Toby Flowers. He’s a personal trainer at the Meridian Leisure Centre, and I arrived in front of him one afternoon because I’d told everyone I would. I knew I couldn’t just walk into a gym and start doing stuff; it would be ridiculous, so I booked six sessions with Toby, which came half price as I’d joined the gym for three months. Now I had an actual appointment, someone I couldn’t let down, so I knew I’d go at least six times.
My first two sessions were introductions to the gym, sessions I think might have been designed to break me. Toby first took me around, showed me some machines, explained what he intended to do, and just eased me in gently. The next session, a couple of days later, he massacred me so I could barely hold the steering wheel of my car.
That’s how it felt, but he was putting me through different exercises to gauge my progress. In my mind, the answer was ‘not as advanced as Toby thinks’, but in truth, I was. The next session, he upped the weights, and I managed. Just. Apparently, you should lift with the intention of stopping at a fail point.
The thing I couldn’t get my head around in the gym was the downtime between sets. A set is one ‘go’ at a weight, and it usually consists of a certain amount of ‘reps’. So, a set might be ten reps, which means I lift a weight in a certain way ten times. Then, I sit around for a couple of minutes before I can do it all again. Typically, a set of ten reps was taking me 40 seconds, then there’s a two-minute weight. There’s a lot of downtime in a gym, and that’s alien to me. If I get downtime at home, I feel a need fill it with something productive. More on that later.
By my third session, Toby had a plan for me, three different sessions targetting different body parts. I was really enjoying the lifting of weights, and I looked forward to going in, meeting Toby and getting stuck into it. I felt like I was improving, but there was still a barrier. The actual gym.
Louth Meridian is a decent gym, clean, with good facilities and nice staff. I still felt like a fish out of water. If I missed Toby in the corridor, and I walked into the gym on my own, my anxiety kicked in. I felt like everyone was looking at me. I didn’t dress right; I wore one of my football shirts, the same stuff I wore for running, but nobody else did. Everyone strode up to a machine confidently, but even in session three, Toby would say ‘upright row’ or something else that may as well have been in Spanish, and I’d need instruction. When the session was over, I headed straight for the lockers and home, rather than a shower.
I know you’re hoping there’s some redemption here, a kicker where I get over my fear of the gym. There isn’t.
I had my final session with Toby a few weeks ago. The programme I signed up for was designed to take place over 12 weeks, but I did six sessions in three weeks instead. My gains were marginal – they have a machine there that measures muscle, and I’d gained muscle, but in my legs, likely as a result of running. It hadn’t been long enough to see major gains and it was no reflection on my training. I felt good about myself, good about what I’d done. I felt more confident about lifting techniques and what to do to get the outcomes I wanted.
I just knew as soon as session six was finished, I wouldn’t go back to the gym.
I wish I would. I wish I could just push through and stroll in confidently like I would if it were a writing class. I will go back – I want to check my gains on the machines before my membership expires, but as things stand, I don’t have the confidence to just go back to the gym. My tattooist, Ben, said I could train with him if he were in, but I don’t want to impose. It would be like me saying to someone who runs a sub-45 minute 5k to come running with me; it’s not fair.
I haven’t given up—far from it. I bought a set of adjustable dumbbells and a bench from a company called Braingain and put them in the bar outside. I stuck to Toby’s plan, adjusting the lifts he’d got down on dumbbell machines with help from Chris, who has worked in the industry for years. I go out there five times a week and work through each routine, slowly trying to up the weights I’m lifting.
I find it easier doing it at home. I can stick the jukebox on in the bar and listen to whatever takes my fancy, and in those two minutes of downtime between each set, I play pool. Ridiculous, isn’t it? I actually combine trying to improve at pool with a weight session. I’m not sure if anything is changing. I’ve done a before and after picture, and I can’t see a difference right now, but Fe picked the right one.
Still, I know if I keep doing weights, and keep running, combined with a decent diet, I’ll lose weight.
The gym didn’t take for me, but the mindset of trying to improve myself has. I feel motivated to go out and lift thr weights, especially now I have a financial investment in them. I keep glancing in the mirror to see if my shirts are fitting a bit better, but I don’t expect huge gains.
However, I have to say, my pool has improved a bit. Who knew that the gym’ll fix it for me to be better at pool!
(See now why I had to leave the title as it was…)