There is something I ought to confess.
I never, not once, want to do another squat.
It’s not that my exercise regime has ever been particularly squat-heavy. All up, I’ve probably done 40 squats in my lifetime – each not quite right in their own, unique way. For me, every dip is akin to torture.
My body was not designed to squat. It’s also an intensely boring exercise that requires you to stare at a spot on a white wall, while trying to mentally transport yourself to a time when you weren’t squatting.
But it’s not just the squat.
I’m not particularly enthusiastic about the gym, either. There’s something that doesn’t feel natural about running on the spot for thirty minutes, moving nowhere, with the dull hum of a rubber track spinning beneath my feet.
The treadmill was designed in the Victorian era, as a form of punishment for criminals. Prisoners were made to endure hours of hard labour by walking on treadmills that worked to grind flour.
In the late 19th century, the treadmill as punishment was abandoned because it was understood to be too cruel to the prisoners.
In the 21st century, we pay to use them. Or more accurately, we pay to have the option to use them, and then avoid them at all costs for three months before we accept it’s time to cancel our gym membership altogether.
That, after all, is the fitness industry’s business model. Last year, a study by Canstar Blue found that 54 per cent of members barely attend the gym they pay for, if at all.