Fortysomethings and exercise

It suddenly hits you with a vengeance that you’re unfit and something has to be done. This is why fortysomethings and health clubs are such a wonderful marriage of convenience: each knows the other’s imperfections but are happy to overlook them, blaming either temporary amnesia or big financial incentives.

It’s only when you enter the changing rooms for the first time that you realise what they’ve been keeping from you: you have to take your clothes off in front of total strangers. Fortunately everyone is discreetly staring at a fishing programme on Sky and you are allowed to put on your gym kit without embarrassment. On the other hand, you worry why no one is looking at you. Is the sight of you with no clothes on actually that hideous and disturbing?

Of course, no one wants to worry you too much, which is why the health club loves to emphasise the feelgood side of fortysomething exercise; this includes being frothed-up in the jacuzzi, watching Murder She Wrote on the plasma screen as an excuse for a little light exercise-biking, and holding a water bottle at all times in order to suggest that you’re having a lifestyle.

Even the personal assessment isn’t too insulting, chiefly because no one’s actually going to say ‘you’re so fat and unattractive that we won’t be able to allow you to pay our exorbitantly priced direct debits’. Instead they do seem to be suggesting rather a lot of swimming, i.e. at least the water will support your great weight and keep you hidden as much as possible. Not to mention Aqua Aerobics – just in case you’ve never been part of a human tidal wave before and like wearing a float while frolicking in chlorine to Zorba’s Dance.

You wouldn’t say the gym itself is a surprise, but as a cross between your worst-ever school sports nightmares and what is never shown at Guantanamo Bay, no one can truthfully say that it is geared to the needs of the averagely unfit forty-year-old. If you thought it was embarrassing stripping in front of total strangers, try adding grunting, heavy breathing, gurning, involuntary dribbling and ten different ways of saying ‘I’m going to die’ to your bundle of tricks. Soon everyone will know your body as well as your partner does – many would say even more intimately after your unsuccessful pelvic thrust with the Swiss Ball. All you can do is remind yourself that you are actually paying for this – voluntarily.

Gym etiquette for fortysomethings:
Don’t tell a member of staff that you don’t appear to have a pulse. They will know you are a first-time fortysomething.
Ditto if you appear not to be burning any calories.
Always start off with the humiliatingly easy warm-up exercises, as it is an ego boost to know that you can at least do something.
But don’t embarrass yourself by punching the air and screaming ‘y-e-e-s-s’ as you assume the warm-up exercises are all you have to do.
Just because you actually know the words to Kylie Minogue’s ‘Can’t Get You Out Of My Head’, there is no need to mime to them while exercising. Leave this to her.
Don’t scream out ‘I’m feeling the burn!’ after two minutes on a glorified rocking horse.
Always keep your private parts covered up in the changing area. There will be a towel big enough, don’t worry.