Millennials seem to train as if they are preparing for life post-apocalypse. It’s exhausting just listening to them

‘We don’t just go to the gym any more.” I’m trying to figure out how millennials exercise, because I’ve seen them on Instagram and they look really buff: all crop tops and abs, like 80s computer graphics. I don’t want that for myself. I just want to know how they do it.

Lucy Fry is a fitness journalist and author. She was once a personal trainer, briefly a boxing fanatic and can do a handstand in the air on a pair of bars. Born in 1981, she marks the very start of the demographic: millennial ground zero. It is not really a case of keeping up with Fry as she models power and endurance. She is very into rings and bars, jumping on the side of things, hanging off things. Fry can effectively fly. Even just listening to her makes me feel tired.

“It’s about being badass,” she tells me. “Strength is a huge thing. Callisthenics is a huge thing.” This is a form of body-weight exercise, running, grasping, pushing, jumping, swinging, usually without equipment, though if there is a horizontal bar handy, they will haul themselves up it – that’s a muscle-up – or do a barspin. Basically, anything you’d see a delinquent nine-year-old trying to do in a playground, you should now try yourself.

Urban callisthenics is the same, except you have to wear a bandana and be rude to people. It’s just, well, it’s just preposterously hard. This isn’t like an exercise reboot; these people are like an improved species. “It looks really cool,” Fry concedes. “I always pretend I’m promoting my coach when I post on social media, but really it’s just because I think I look so strong.” Wait, what? What coach? “I have a coach in Australia who programmes for me. I send him videos of what I’m doing, and he gives me a view on it.”

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For the slightly less hardcore millennial, they join an online community – Kayla Itsines’ is the big one. They post pictures of their progress, and if they make it on to her noticeboard, they have a huge rejoicing ceremony. “We’re looking for health hacks. We’re looking to increase output. We’re trying to be athletes. It helps with the existential sense of purpose.”

I want to be Fry. I like her staccato delivery and fearless grunting. But this stuff is not for wimps. I cannot touch anything with my chin, except for my own neck.

Next, millennials maximise their recovery with 20 minutes in a 90C sauna, 10 minutes in a cold shower, 20 more minutes in the sauna. They sync their indoor bikes with an international online community, then race people in India. They are mad for Pilates. They have nutrition coaches, too. They self-actualise through fitness goals. It dawns on me that they’re actually preparing for life post-apocalypse. I would never say that to their faces. Just from a huge distance, and then run away.





This week I learned





Fitness is a feminist thing, now. Or, rather, not wanting to be fit enough to pull a car is unfeminist.