Mel Buttle: Why an eight-week gym challenge is always a bad idea

I’m being hounded to sign up to an eight week challenge at a local gym and avoiding it has got my heart-rate up, writes Mel Buttle.

‘They’re doing an eight-week challenge, and it’s only $7 a week for new people to join and it’s …” I cut her off. “Not for me,” I snap back bluntly as I return to scrolling through the same four apps on my phone.

She’s not perturbed at all. “I think you’d like it, there’s nice people there and it’s fun, it’s got a good vibe,” she continues, not all put off by my curt, borderline rude, response.

I’m as surprised as you are that she’s still persisting in her quest to get me to join this gym. I can hear her rebutting that comment now. “Oh but it’s not just a gym, it’s more like personalised classes.”

To paint the picture for you, I’m in my pyjamas still eating beef curry for, well, let’s call it brunch. I have to nip this gym talk in the bud, I think to myself. The tone is intense, it’s starting to feel like she’s about to pull out a whiteboard and sell me a timeshare.

I go a little harder this time.

“The gym is not fun; mini golf is fun, also, eight weeks? Who knows where I’ll be in eight weeks?” I hope my position on this matter is now crystal clear. It’s far from over though. “Just have a look at what they’re about,” she persists.

I’m sent the Instagram site of the gym, the classes that have names like Shred X, which sounds like some sort of workout a Hemsworth would do to prepare for a blockbuster.

Mel Buttle is firmly against eight-week challenges. Picture: File image

Last time I did a gym class it was called Tone Up, and much of it was spent on the floor thrusting my pelvis at the ceiling to the instructor’s count.

“Consistency, effort, results” – these words pepper this gym’s marketing materials, those three words were the crux of almost every report card comment I received, well, with a slightly different tone.

My report cards read: “With more dedicated effort and consistency with proofreading her work, Mel could experience great results.” I could never find the time for proofreading. I mean sure, I’d scan over what I’d written between the time the teacher called “pencils down” and when she walked around to pry my test from my sweaty hands.

People are rarely on the fence about exercise, they’re all in, or they’re like me, at home watching reality real estate shows, hoping that cutting out nuggets for February will result in dropping a dress size.

I’ve got some fanatical exercise-loving mates. You can spot them from a mile off, they’re rarely out of lycra and if you ask about their watch you better have the next 20 minutes free for the presentation about its features. From hearing many of these presentations over the years, I can fill you in on the watch, they’re all basically a GPS, a stethoscope and a timer that fits on their wrist.

Columnist Mel Buttle.

People in this deep will throw around words, like macros, which isn’t a nickname for macaroni just FYI, and say things like, “you can’t out train a bad diet”, to which I reply, “don’t worry, I don’t even attempt to”.

There was a time in my life when I loved exercise, but I now realise that’s because the cardio was cleverly concealed within a game. You don’t think about the distance you’ve run when you’re playing high school hockey – it’s not overt, it’s sewn into the outcome of scoring or preventing the scoring of goals. Like grated zucchini in a lasagne.

I think you can probably guess – from how I compared hockey to a lasagne – that I didn’t take up that eight-week challenge.