I’ve always thought group fitness is a cop-out. Pre-planned intensity and structure may be great for those with no motivation (or the army), but why i quit f45 it’s not for me. Furthermore, my opinion of F45 was somewhere between ‘meh’ and ‘whatever’ but after trying F45 for seven days straight, I’ve come to realise being part of this cult community can transform – even if you consider yourself a ~motivated~ individual.
Having trained in Biggest Losercoach Libby Babet’s former for close to five years, I’m well versed in running, jumping and burpee-ing. F45, on the other hand, always seemed a little extreme – not to mention a sure way to injure myself and ensure my chiropractor is driving a new Porsche 911 before me.
That was until I caught my friend Olivier on his daily morning pilgrimage to F45 Bondi Beach. Olivier is about my age (let’s say late 30’s) and in similar shape. After 12 months of F45, his results are nothing short of impressive, even if his underpants are questionable in the ‘after’ photos.
With that inspiration, I decided to stop pooh-poohing F45 as the mecca of sports injuries and over-enthusiasm and experience this Bondi born – and Mark Wahlberg ‘endorsed’ – fitness franchise that’s quickly taking over the world.
This F45 trial would be taking part at their #1 studio in Bondi Beach – the same place Olivier became the underpants-wearing-god he is today. It’s also home to the F45 World Champions of 2019.
For the small cost of $55 for a 7-day trial pass (yes: I paid – this is not a sponsored piece or a PR stunt), I was allowed to take part in the early (7:30am) sessions each weekday and later sessions (9:30am) on the weekend.
I subsequently realised F45 Bondi offers a ‘locals-only’ pass for even less – something which I missed the memo on… but I digress.
In any case: I began the 7-day trial with tennis elbow and a niggling facet joint issue in my back, so I plan to work at 80%- 90% capacity and with a strict list of no go exercises from my Chiropractor to ensure I don’t make matters worse. Here’s how it went.
Day One
Class: Varsity (Cardio)
Length: 45 Minutes
Calories Burnt: 454
After a brief tour of F45’s massive blue, white and red studio I get the feeling the stars and stripes colour combo is a clever marketing appeal to an American audience. Regardless, the spacious Bondi studio is soon full with 30 something bodies of all ages, shapes and sizes. Props to Sally, who classifies herself as seventy-plus, and who gets in there every day and gives 100%.
Our instructor, Bill Cunningham, aka Wild Bill Cunningham is a man who needs no microphone. Bill’s loud, fish market loud, but has plenty of encouragement and high fives should you need one.
Wild Bill and his enthusiastic Instagram-ready assistant Nicole take the class through each of the exercises at a frightening pace. You can be sure not a single person asks a question, instead, we work it out when the bell goes. Like the workout demonstration, the warm-up is also at breakneck speed: 90 seconds, 10 quick ‘jumpy jumpy’ exercises and you’re done.
A gentle jog to the studio may have been more beneficial at this point, regardless I push on, getting luke-warmed up and begin 40 minutes of cardio.
As it’s my first session, I find watching the screens (and the 10-second breaks) confusing. It’s also irritating keeping pace with everyone else. But then, as the class pushes on I’m glad of the 10 seconds here and there. As for watching screens, I stare at them like a moron for the first round, then my short term memory kicks in.
My form has always been an issue for me – and with only two instructors on the floor for 30 plus people in a room I’m not exactly feeling the love. My gut feeling is they tend to focus on those who desperately need help. Maybe it’s my fancy Nike sneakers; maybe it’s my matching shorts; maybe even – by some miracle – my form is good; whatever the case, the trainers leave me alone, which makes the experience a little ‘loveless’ in comparison to my old studio AGOGA.
Whilst it may sound like I need a hug, it’s not (just) that, it was more about being part of something which on the outside has a reputation for lacking soul. I was determined to find out if this was true.
