FITNESS

All The Gear And No Idea: The Fitness Trap Most Midlife Men Fall Into

Abandoned treadmills, German cyclists drinking beer, and why buying stuff doesn’t help you get in shape faster.

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I was walking home from my training studio last week when a runner came towards me going the other way.

He was moving at a pace that was only technically ‘running’, face set in the expression of a man who has made a terrible life decision and is only now realising it.

He was overweight, clearly uncomfortable, and every step seemed to be a minor negotiation.

But the kit. Good Lord, the kit was immaculate.

Expensive running sunglasses. A phone holder strapped to his arm for his massive iPhone. AirPods. A large smartwatch tracking every laboured step, calorie burned and split time. And on his feet, a pair of those Nike running shoes that elite marathon runners have been breaking world records in.

All in, I’d estimate he was wearing somewhere north of £500 worth of running gear. But he looked like he was about a week away from just chucking all of it in a bag and leaving it on top of the wardrobe.

But We’ve All Been This Man

I say that not to mock him — genuinely, I help people get in shape for a living, I know how hard it is to get out the door and start your run some days, so good on him for being out there.

But I recognised something in that image that most men of a certain age (I’m 49 myself) will recognise too, if we’re honest with ourselves.

Just take a second to cast your mind back over the various fitness pursuits you’ve started in the last ten or fifteen years. Think about the gear you bought for each one.

Maybe it’s the dumbbells gathering dust in the corner. Or those overpriced resistance bands that are still in their packaging. Or your treadmill that became an expensive clothes horse within six months. Or the fancy bike sitting forlornly out in the garage, ununused for a year.

When I lived in Germany I was once sitting in a beer garden as four cyclists pulled up, clipped out of their pedals, tiptapped over to a table and ordered a round of litre steins of Weissbier.

There they sat in full Tour de France-style lycra, aerodynamic helmets, with bikes that cost more than some cars. And yet their physiques suggested this particular refreshment break was something of a regular feature of their rides.

They had absolutely committed to the aesthetic of cycling, the importance of maximising their performance… without necessarily realising maybe foregoing the beer would help their times improve faster than a better helmet.

And listen, I’m certainly not innocent here by the way, having started a YouTube channel a couple of years ago.

I watched a bajillion videos on what to buy, then got a proper camera, a studio quality microphone, a ring light, the works. My setup looked genuinely professional.

What I discovered fairly quickly was that buying professional equipment does not automatically make you someone who enjoys sitting in front of a camera several times a week! The gear is still here in a cupboard somewhere, and the YouTube channel is shall we say a ‘work in progress’.

And even when I DO now shoot a video it’s using my iPhone and a cheap clip-on mic.

Why Do We Do This?

The researching and eventual purchasing of the gear feels like making progress, like you’re doing it ‘right’ this time.

You walk into a running shop or click around a cycling or fitness equipment website and by the time you leave you feel like a runner/cyclist/weightlifter, because you now have the same stuff that proper runners/cyclists/weightlifters use.

And yet you haven’t done very much of The Thing yet.

So the kit gives you the identity before you’ve earned it. In your head you are now A Person Who Runs/Cycles/Lifts, and the actual consistent exercise, the sweaty uncomfortable unglamorous part where you shuffle along a pavement at a pace a brisk walker could match, that bit can wait a while.

But the only thing that actually makes you a runner, a cyclist, a weightlifter, a swimmer, or whatever, is doing it consistently, week after week, until it’s just a thing you do rather than a thing you’re trying to become.

No amount of kit accelerates that process, but it does make the eventual abandonment more expensive.

The Functional Basics Are Enough To Start

Here’s what you actually need to begin most fitness pursuits.

• For running: get a pair of decent running trainers that fit properly and don’t hurt your feet. That’s genuinely it. Everything else is optional at the start. Just get out the door and run a few times a week.
• For the gym or home training: you need enough space to move and something to create resistance. That can mean just your own bodyweight, a couple of dumbbells, or a TRX thing. Those elaborate home gyms with the squat rack and the cable machine and the commercial grade bench can come later if you need them.
• For cycling: get a decent bike that works and a helmet. The aerodynamic lycra, the clipless pedals and the GPS cycling computer are not what stand between you and becoming a cyclist. Showing up and riding regularly is what does that. Get a pricier bike eventually if you’ve put in the miles.

Before you buy anything beyond the basics, I would encourage you to just take a look around your house, your garage, your attic, and make an honest inventory of everything you’ve bought for previous fitness pursuits that didn’t stick.

Add up roughly what that cost you, then ask yourself whether the new gear you’re eyeing is the thing that was missing last time?

Earn The Gear

Don’t get me wrong, I love buying sh*t like you probably do, but here’s the framework I now use myself and suggest to clients.

• Start with the functional basics. Commit to six weeks of actually doing the thing.
• If you’re still going at six weeks, buy one upgrade, something that will genuinely improve the experience. Something like better shoes if the cheap ones are giving you problems, or some better clothing. Something functional, not aspirational.
• Get to twelve weeks and you’ve earned something more significant. The nicer watch. The better kit. The thing you had your eye on at the start but wisely didn’t buy.

Doing it this way does two things.

1. It means the fancier gear becomes a reward for consistency, rather than a way to bribe yourself to start.
2. It means you never again spend £500 on kit for a habit that lasts three weeks, because you haven’t earned the £500 of kit yet!

Believe me, the pricey shoes will mean something completely different when you’ve run a hundred miles in cheaper ones first.

And the guy I passed last week might prove me completely wrong, he might still be out there in six months, shuffling along with his smartwatch and his record-breaking Nikes, having quietly fallen in love with running despite the difficult early weeks.

I genuinely hope so.

But if I had to bet on whether the fancy kit or the consistency is what gets him there, I know which one I’d put my money on.

And let me know in the comments if you’ve regretted spending money on random exercise equipment. No judgement! ;-)

I coach folks over 40 to get back in shape without turning a busy home and family life upside down or giving up the finer things in life. For info, email chris@offacoach.com

Author in his training studio