I cancelled my membership at my gym this morning. It was kind of an inverse New Year resolution, and the fit young man behind the desk was briefly confused. But when I explained that I was buying myself a home gym, he immediately understood.
“Yeah mate. Throwing money away coming here.”
It’s not the money that’s the issue though. It’s that I’ve been remarkably shit at getting to the gym lately, not out of any laziness on my part. I love the gym. It’s my break from the rest of my life as well as being a generally virtuous thing to do. However getting there becomes a difficult proposition when I need around 90 minutes of child-free, work-free, responsibility-free time. I manage that around once a week.
I take that time of course, but let’s be honest – I’m not really achieving anything. At best I’m treating water, athletically. I can’t do that too long before I start to move backwards down Dave Tate’s continuum from suck towards shit.
So I have ordered the basic ingredients of a home gym. My current dwelling has a garage which is mostly used for storage, but which can also accommodate a barbell and some iron. It’s a very basic setup – just the bar and around 160kg of plates, mostly bumpers. I won’t be able to back squat, and most lifts will require me to power clean the bar first. I don’t mind – it’s a bit of extra training and the simplicity of it appeals. My friend Kyle from Athletic Club East has kindly written me a program entitled “the Lonely Barbell” to accommodate my limitations.
Travel time to my new gym is about thirty seconds. The return trip to the shower is about the same.
No more bros.
No more curling in the squat rack.
No more disinterested “trainers”.