Research has found that many over-55s are put off exercising because they don't feel confident or represented at fitness centres. Photo / Getty Images
Research has found that many over-55s are put off exercising because they don't feel confident or represented at fitness centres. Photo / Getty Images
OPINION:
Just before the pandemic, I joined a gym because I didn't like what midlife was doing to my middle. "Yeah, my mum has that, too," announced the young personal trainer at my induction. "What I always say to my mum is …"
Can you stop going on about your mum? I raged internally. But that's how he saw me: middle-aged, bit clapped out, of the demographic more suited to queuing up at the post office, or cooking his dinner, than working out at the gym.
This teenager proceeded to weigh me, measure my body fat and – when he'd managed to drag his attention away from a hot young woman on the treadmill – explained: "You can't tone fat. It all starts with diet. So when you go out, have a vodka and Diet Coke."
Clearly, he would be no help in guiding me through my midlife health concerns. He probably didn't even know what menopause was.
Induction mercifully over, I signed up for body pump classes with lithe 20-somethings in crop tops and racer-back bras. All spray tans, lip fillers and taut, flat stomachs, it was like being trapped inside Instagram.
"Excuse me!" I waved to the instructor. "I'm struggling with this. I have a touch of sciatica."
She reeled back and muttered something unintelligible. I felt as if I had gatecrashed and started dancing embarrassingly at a young people's party. Yet, at 57, exercise has become vital to my physical and mental wellbeing. I want to work out – but can understand why eight out of 10 people find gyms intimidating, according to a study by Samsung. Meanwhile, a survey for David Lloyd Clubs found that nearly a third of over-55s are put off exercising because they don't feel confident in their abilities and are not well represented at fitness centres.
It's what inspired a mother-and-son duo from Leicester to set up the Wigston branch of Gymophobics, a non-intimidating (and mirror-free) fitness club for women of all ages. The idea came about when Neil Davies's mother Sara, 59, mentioned that she found traditional gyms unwelcoming.
"For a lot of older people, being surrounded by people so much younger, in tight Lycra, is off-putting,' says Davies. He acknowledges that there is also an invisibility factor when one reaches a certain age. "Older people often say that in conventional gyms they feel ignored and don't like to ask for help."
It's not just the clients. This week, a 64-year-old personal trainer sued the upmarket central London gym where he worked for age discrimination, saying its policy of conducting workouts to loud music "no more than 18 months old" put him at a disadvantage. Fitzroy Gaynes told an employment tribunal that he was not fond of Radio 1, didn't go clubbing and preferred to conduct his classes to "older" motivational music. (His complaint was dismissed.)
According to Nicole Brule-Walker, 52, a movement specialist and Pilates instructor: "In the typical gym, we're often faced with a huge rack of weights sitting there looking at us. In just one induction session, we're expected to take on board a huge amount of information … then we're on our own. We worry that we're not doing it correctly and that we're being watched, making mistakes. It all adds to feelings of anxiety."
However, the fitness industry is finally waking up to the fact that the over-40s not only want to be fit but respond to an entirely different approach to their younger counterparts. This is what prompted Essex-based trainer Lisa Monger to launch her business, Rebel Health.
Starting out with boxing classes and now encompassing strength training and virtual classes, she says: "The fitness industry has long been built around the aesthetic of what you look like in your clothes – and out of them. But as we grow older, it becomes less about fitting into skinny jeans or having ripping pectorals and more about whole health."
The fitness industry is finally waking up to the fact that over-40s want something different at the gym. Photo / Getty Images
She recognises that those of us in this age bracket don't want "punishing, boringly repetitive workouts, or to be surrounded by people posing for gym selfies". For me, that's a particular bugbear. The last time I ventured into my gym, people were making Instagram reels, not just in the workout area but the changing room, too.
"People in their 40s and beyond are looking for a sense of community and support," says Monger.
Which is how Fit20 – a slow-motion resistance training method – came to be developed to suit this demographic.
"As we age, there's a natural loss of muscle mass and bone density," says Niri Patel, the company's UK managing director. "Getting older without feeling older – or, at the very least, delaying these adverse effects – is key."
The controlled, supervised exercise method is catching on fast, with 10 more UK studios being added this year, and membership up more than 50 per cent from pre-pandemic levels.
Meanwhile, David Lloyd Clubs have pledged to have at least one personal trainer over the age of 55 at each of their clubs. "Older members often feel more comfortable training with someone their own age," says Dave Evans, a 73-year-old David Lloyd PT who has clients aged from 12 to 80.
Midlife and menopause fitness expert Kate Rowe-Ham agrees that finally the fitness industry is catering to "this forgotten demographic, when weight creeps up out of nowhere and you might not want to do star jumps anymore because of your pelvic floor. It's no longer about chasing the body you had at 30," she adds.
"It's not about restrictive diets, either. It's about focusing on strength and mobility and having a healthy heart, bones, joints, brain, muscles – and being proud of the body that had served you so well so far."
For me, the final straw wasn't the punishing routines or even the terrible tunes at my old gym. There was a move in the class where we had to lie on our backs – on a step – while pumping hand weights vertically into the air. During this, my back seized. Dragged to my feet by a couple of horrified Gen Z-ers, I staggered out, never to return. I have since joined David Lloyd, which costs me a fair bit more than the budget option. But here, I work out happily and no one recommends I stick to vodka and Diet Coke on my nights out – and no one goes on about their mum.
