Gym Bodies: Exploring Fitness Cultures [1 ed.] 1138666262, 9781138666269

Table of contents :
Cover
Half Title
Series Page
Title Page
Copyright Page
Table of Contents
List of figures
Acknowledgements
Chapter 1: Introducing (our) gym bodies and fitness cultures
Introduction and aims
James
Ian
Amy
‘Going to the gym’
Outline of chapters and boundaries
Notes
References
Chapter 2: Conceptualising gym bodies
Bringing the (gym) body back in
Embodied sociological approaches
Phenomenological approaches
Sociological phenomenological approaches
Feminist phenomenological approaches
A sensory revolution
Sensuous autoethnography
Note
References
Chapter 3: A history of gyms and the evolvement of contemporary fitness
A history of modern fitness
Contemporary gyms and constructing the ‘fit’ body
Gyms as sites for corporeal self transformation
Notes
References
Chapter 4: Embodied methodological considerations
Collecting embodied data on gym bodies
Sample, data gathering and field relationships
Analysis, judgement and representation
Note
References
Chapter 5: Gym spaces
Introduction
‘Spit and sawdust’ gyms
Modern lifestyle clubs (MLCs)
The front desk
Changing rooms
The gym floor
CrossFit spaces
Summary
Notes
References
Chapter 6: Being personally trained
Health knowledge and the fitness industry
Embodied approaches: filling in the gaps
References
Chapter 7: CrossFit
Introduction
CrossFit’s fitness
Forging elite fitness: CrossFit as a training methodology and a sport
Academic analyses
Amazing ‘Grace’
Chasing Elysium: sensorial analysis of a WOD
Pre Grace
Doing Grace
Post Grace
Competitive blood flows through my veins again
Becoming immersed
Welcome to the house of pain (and pleasure)
Pushing to the edge of intensity
Carnal metamorphoses and reinvention
Reflections
Future directions
Notes
References
Chapter 8: Spinning
Introduction
Spinning experiences
Bodily displays and body capital
Spaces for the generation of fitness knowledge
Emotional bodies
Pleasurable Spinning
Summary
Notes
References
Chapter 9: Reflections
Conceptualising and researching gym bodies
Distinction and authenticity of embodied fitness knowledge
The gym VIP list
Embodied gym experience as transcendence
Applications
Limitations and future directions
Personal reflections on own gym journeys
James
Ian
Amy
References
Appendix 1: Judgement criteria employed
Appendix 2: WOD acronyms in CrossFit
Appendix 3: The original ‘girls’
Index

Citation preview

Gym Bodies

Drawing on empirical research, this fascinating new book explores the embodied experiences of ‘gym goers’ and the fitness cultures that are constructed within gyms and fitness spaces. Gym Bodies offers a personal, interactive, ethnographic account of the multiplicity of contemporary gym practices, spaces and cultures, including bodybuilding, CrossFit and Spinning. It argues that gym bodies are historically constructed, social, sensual, emotional and political; that experience intersects with multiple embodied identities; and that fitness cultures are profoundly important in shaping the body in wider contemporary culture. This is important reading for students, tutors and researchers working in sport and exercise studies, sociology of the body, health studies, leisure, cultural studies, gender and education. It is also a valuable resource for policy makers and practitioners within the fields of sport, leisure, health and education. James Brighton is Senior Lecturer in the Sociology of Sport and Exercise at Canterbury Christ Church University, UK. His theoretical and empirical research interests lie in the social and cultural analysis of sport and fitness, the sociology of the body and disability studies. Methodologically, he is interested in interpretive forms of qualitative inquiry including ethnography, life history and narrative analyses. He is also a qualified fitness instructor and personal trainer. Ian Wellard is an independent writer based in Cornwall, UK. His main research interests relate to embodied practices, physical activity, gender and sport. Much of this research has been generated through ethnographic studies, which draw upon qualitative and reflexive approaches to the ways in which embodied identities are constructed and negotiated. Ian is also a qualified Level 2 CrossFit coach. Amy Clark is an independent scholar based in Kent, UK. Her doctoral research employed a feminist phenomenological framework to help reveal the embodied experiences of women within fitness cultures. Methodologically, she is interested in how sensuous forms of ethnography can be used to explore lived, fleshy corporeality of others who experience multiple forms of oppression as a result of their embodiment. She is also a qualified personal trainer and Spinning instructor.

Routledge Research in Sport, Culture and Society

The Nordic Model and Physical Culture Edited by Mikkel B. Tin, Frode Telseth, Jan Ove Tangen and Richard Giulianotti Sport and Mediatization Kirsten Frandsen Social Activism in Women’s Tennis Generations of Politics and Cultural Change Kristi Tredway Sport, Welfare and Social Policy in the European Union Nicola R. Porro, Stefano Martelli and Alberto Testa Disability, the Media and the Paralympic Games Carolyn Jackson-Brown Sport, Film and National Culture Edited by Seán Crosson Female Fans, Gender Relations and Football Fandom Challenging the Brotherhood Culture Honorata Jakubowska, Dominik Antonowicz and Radosław Kossakowski Gym Bodies Exploring Fitness Cultures James Brighton, Ian Wellard and Amy Clark Sport and Secessionism Edited by Mariann Vaczi and Alan Bairner For more information about this series, please visit: www.routledge.com/ sport/series/RRSCS

Gym Bodies Exploring Fitness Cultures

James Brighton, Ian Wellard and Amy Clark

First published 2021 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 52 Vanderbilt Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2021 James Brighton, Ian Wellard and Amy Clark The right of James Brighton, Ian Wellard and Amy Clark to be identified as authors of this work has been asserted by them in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data A catalog record has been requested for this book ISBN: 978-1-138-66626-9 (hbk) ISBN: 978-1-315-61949-1 (ebk) Typeset in Goudy by Wearset Ltd, Boldon, Tyne and Wear

Contents



List of figuresvii Acknowledgementsviii

1

Introducing (our) gym bodies and fitness cultures1 JAMES BRIGHTON, IAN WELLARD AND AMY CLARK

2

Conceptualising gym bodies20 JAMES BRIGHTON, IAN WELLARD AND AMY CLARK

3

A history of gyms and the evolvement of contemporary fitness37 JAMES BRIGHTON, IAN WELLARD AND AMY CLARK

4

Embodied methodological considerations53 JAMES BRIGHTON

5

Gym spaces65 JAMES BRIGHTON, IAN WELLARD AND AMY CLARK

6

Being personally trained98 IAN WELLARD

7 CrossFit117 JAMES BRIGHTON

8 Spinning150 AMY CLARK

vi  Contents 9 Reflections171 JAMES BRIGHTON, IAN WELLARD AND AMY CLARK

Appendix 1: Judgement criteria employed197 Appendix 2: WOD acronyms in CrossFit198 Appendix 3: The original ‘girls’199 Index 201

Figures

1.1 ‘Chucking some tin’ around the gym  5 1.2 Ian becoming a gym insider 9 1.3 Amy in the Spinning studio 11 4.1 Being a fitness tourist at CrossFit 813, Tampa, Florida (author on the left) 55 4.2 The CrossFit ‘community’ (author back centre) 58 4.3 Building relationships in the gym 60 5.1 Entrance to a typical spit and sawdust gym 69 5.2 Interior of a typical spit and sawdust gym 70 5.3 Working out and hanging about with superheroes 89 5.4 Typical CrossFit Spaces (CrossFit P10, England) 92 5.5 Typical CrossFit Spaces (CrossFit Café, Virginia Beach, USA)93 6.1 Personal training 99 6.2 Relationships of power operating between government, fitness industries and trainers 102 7.1 Conditioned by the clock: nervous smiles prior to the WOD 124 7.2 A ‘sweat angel’ (dumbbells added for effect) 127 7.3 ‘WOD wounds’ 128 7.4 The author deep in the ‘pain cave’ 135 7.5 A typical scene from a functional fitness competition (Wild West Winterslam 2018, Cheltenham, England) 144 7.6 The beach arena at Tribal Clash 2015 (Blackpool Sands, Devon, England) 144 8.1 The Spinning room 151 9.1 Enjoyment and developing valued body–self–culture relationships important in structured embodied gym experiences183 9.2 Completing a WOD  189 9.3 Joint suffering  190 9.4 Ian’s gym identity 192

Acknowledgements

James: For Mum and Dad, for everything you have done and continue to do. I will never be able to thank you enough for your unwavering and unequivocal support with everything I do in my life. This book is a product of the work ethic and interest in sport that you have instilled in me. Ian: I would like to thank Routledge for their continued support and John and Freddie for putting up with my gym indulgences. Amy: To Mum and Derek, thank you always.

1 Introducing (our) gym bodies and fitness cultures James Brighton, Ian Wellard and Amy Clark

Introduction and aims The phrases ‘I’m going to the gym’ or ‘I’m working out’ have become ubiquitous in the everyday vocabularies of millions of people in contemporary Western society. What exactly ‘gyms’ are however, or the diverse embodied practices that take place within fitness spaces as they have aggressively stratified in recent times, remains unclear. Also absent are embodied forms of sociological analyses that explore the deep carnality of ‘doing’ gym­-​ ­based exercise and the profound meanings attached to these experiences (Allen­ -Collinson  ​­ & Hockey, 2017). Contextualised through our lifelong submer­gence in gyms and fitness cultures, the primary aims of this book are therefore to provide critical sociological analyses of contemporary gym spaces and fitness practices through our own lived, enfleshed, sensuous bodies. As we will argue, reflecting on the embodiedness of these experiences provides a rich corporeal grounding upon which discussions about the importance of ‘going to the gym’ can be developed. Before going any further however, we must first introduce ourselves, our bodies and the relationships with the gym spaces that we intend to explore. We are mindful that our relationships have been generally positive, but at the same time our experiences are not necessarily uniform. The self­ -​­ reflexive ‘confessions’ offered below therefore attempt to acknowledge and remain constantly aware of the specific dispositions that we have towards our own bodies whilst remaining equally alert to the contrasting experiences that other individuals are exposed to.

James I first stepped into a ‘gym’ at high school, where my Physical Education teacher had cleared a dusty and dank storage cupboard on the outskirts of campus and filled it with worn out antiquated resistance equipment. A couple of benches whose brown leather upholstery had cracked and corroded from years of spilled sweat, a rack of raw rusting iron dumbbells, a primordial version of a Smith machine and a multi­-gym ​­ were haphazardly arranged on a cold cracked grey concrete floor. There were no carpets or

2  James Brighton et al. mirrors, just a small, dingy, dimly lit room with a corrugated iron roof. Eager to do any form of physical activity as a sports obsessed 14­-​­year­-old, ​­ I went along to supervised sessions in which the basics of using resistance machines were taught and we completed ‘circuits’ of exercises isolating specific body parts. Nirvana’s Nevermind album would crackle out of the tape player in the corner, adding to the grimy and grungy feel. We would emerge 45 minutes later, foreheads glistening, hands covered in rusty residue, ears ringing from the clanging of metal plates, adolescent biceps pumping, and return to the routine of the academic timetable still smelling of sweat and iron. I enjoyed using the school gym, more because I was part of the ‘barbell club’ and that any gains in physical strength and power would aid and enhance my performance in the various sports I played, in which I had aspirations of excelling. As time progressed and I left school and attended university, I used gyms sporadically. My life was consumed with football in which my talent was emerging, playing for my university 1st XI and gaining selection for the national student squad. I was wholeheartedly committed to improving further, living what Douglas and Carless (2009) call a ‘high performance narrative’ in which I relentlessly dedicated myself to fulfilling sporting goals at the expense of the development of other aspects of my life and self. As I experienced further success, I increasingly constructed a ‘glorified sense of self’ (Alder & Alder, 1989), an aggrandised sense of being as a sportsperson which further contributing to narrowly defined expressions of self. Little did I know then that gyms were about to take on far greater meaning and significance in my life. Indeed, they were to become my salvation. During a pre­-​­season game, the blades at the bottom of my football boots got caught in the sun hardened ground and my knee buckled, hyperextended and snapped backwards. Waking up in hospital the next morning amidst a blurry haze of painkillers and metronomic electronic bleeping, I looked down at my forlorn body. My knee was wrapped in a white bandage with illuminous red blood seeping through the sutures. “James, you’ve damaged your knee severely, we’ve operated on it, it’s in pretty bad shape and it won’t ever be the same.” The consultant’s words rang in my head. At the age of 19, my high­-​­level sporting career was over. On my return to university I was unaccustomed to inhabiting a failed body and my inability to contribute to the jock culture that I had previously embodied. My sense of self, which had been contingent on my functional and performing sporting body, was now incoherent as I came to know myself as a ‘broken jock’ (Sparkes, Partington  & Brown, 2007). Ravaged by the ‘alien presence’ (Leder, 1990) of injury, I became consumed in denial, uncertainty and desperation. With no sporting storyline to follow, I felt like a leaf in a hurricane. Rather than reach out into the world as a ‘communicative body’ as I had previously done, I increasingly became an insular ‘monadic body’ (Frank, 1995), depressed and fearful of a future without sport and a sense of direction. More than ever, I became aware of

Our gym bodies and fitness cultures   3 what Zaner (1981) terms my ‘corporeal implicatedness’, how physical sensations profoundly impact on constructions of self­-​­understanding. In other words, when the body suffers, so does the self. Over time, and numerous surgeries, I figured that even if I could not compete in sport again, I could at least reconstruct a sense of athletic identity by maintaining the ‘look’ of an athlete and displaying visible signifiers of masculinity, discipline, control and virility through my bodily appearance. By building up the rest of my body I could also regain feelings of control and strength in response to the unfamiliar sense of fragility I was experiencing. The best way to attempt transformation from a tall, skinny kid with a failed body to a ‘real man’ was to work out more aggressively so I joined a local ‘commercial’ gym. After I had been given a standard induction in which I was given a tour of the facilities and introduced to the resistance and static cardiovascular machines, more as a disclaimer than of any pedagogical use, I began my gym journey in earnest. Initially not confident of my lifting technique, I concentrated on using the fixed machines in an attempt to hypertrophy the musculature in my upper body. However, as I gained more of a “feel for the game” (Bourdieu, 1998: 25) I slowly graduated to using free weights where muscular ‘gains’ were made more rapidly. As my arms, chest and shoulders grew stronger I began to lift more weight, more fiercely, more regularly. One by one, muscles in my deltoids, pictorials, biceps, triceps and lats1 inflated, their striations becoming visible under my skin when I tensed. As my body hypertrophied, I filled t­-​­shirts for the first time. I increasingly held myself with a greater sense of authority as I embodied the look of force and competence, key markers of masculinity (Connell, 1987). As my body inflated, so did my sense of masculine ‘physical capital’ (Bourdieu  & Wacquant, 1992). Others began to notice my physical incarnation and interacted with me in different ways. Experiences that were previously inaccessible to me as a skinny goofy teenager suddenly became available as I metamorphosised into a more muscular version of myself. Enjoying these rewards, I placed more and more emphasis on the aesthetic appeal of my body rather than its functionality for sport or practical movement. Before long, I became engrained in the commercial gym ‘habitus’ (Bourdieu, 1977) and gathered ‘ethno­ -scientific’ ​­ knowledge (Monaghan, 1999; 2001) from other gym users of how to build the ‘perfect’ body. Every night I booked a one­ -​­ way ticket on the gains train and faithfully completed the same movement routines, in the same sequences, again, and again, and again. Over time the routine of the workout became ‘sedimented’ into my body (Merleau­-​­Ponty, 1962), each rep acting as an individual building block in making me the strongest, biggest and best version of myself. The gym, however, offered far more than a utilitarian function of building muscle. It provided a sense of escape and therapeutic, ritualistic and remedial qualities. The familiarly of routine itself provided security and structure in response to the chaos of the outside world. Lifting iron

4  James Brighton et al. became the prescribed medicine to heal internal conflict, emotion and dissociation I was experiencing post injury. Driven by a corrosive sense of self-pity, I took my fury out on the weights. Every time I was angry, I lifted. Every time I was upset or sad, I lifted. Every time I was stressed, I lifted. Enduring struggle and discomfort was crucial in this catharsis. Only after I had ‘beasted myself’ was I able to emerge on the other side, cleansed, calmed and healed. Each session was made further transcendent through an accompanying soundtrack. I would work out in solitude with headphones plugged in, listening to deep house music or heavy rock riffs in my own private brooding world, getting “sucked into” the rhythms and flows of the music (Phoenix  & Orr, 2014: 99). I’d often latch on to a beat, or an aggressive lyric, and channel it into the weight. My favourite was the bellicose Zack de la Rocha from the band Rage Against the Machine screaming “Fuck you I won’t do what you tell me”. Listening to his words, I refused to let the iron control me. Instead I asserted my will over it by ‘sending it’ into the air to complete a rep. “Fuck you,” I’d think to myself as I raised it over my head. Whenever I went to the gym to ‘chuck some tin around’, I was embarked on a corporeal, immersive and emotional journey to a sense of inner calm and contentment. Now a bona fide ‘gym rat’, I continued to use a variety of gyms around the world as my life progressed and took me to different places. My interest in working out had begun to shape my career and I became qualified as a personal trainer and gained employment in a variety of commercial and corporate gyms in which I preached the virtues of ‘keeping fit’. Eventually, I undertook a role as a Sports Science lecturer at a specialist sports college in which I was also required to act as strength and conditioning coach for the football team. Here, I completed the United Kingdom Strength and Conditioning Association (UKSCA) weightlifting workshops in which I was introduced to more functional lifts (e.g. deadlift, squat) and ‘Olympic’ techniques (clean, jerk, snatch). Moving the body more freely and functionally in powerful compound movements had an instant appeal to me. Not only did I like the feel of using my entire body to lift heavy weight but I felt like was moving more powerfully and naturally. Furthermore, there was continual emphasis on improving technique, which reminded me of my competitive sporting days. Almost immediately, I made the transition from building an aesthetically valued body to forging a more functional body once again, and concentrated on developing expertise in these movements (Figure 1.1). Some years later in my early thirties, I left the specialist sports college and started a job at an established university in order to pursue my academic career. Now in a different environment, and lacking a gym facility where I could practice Olympic lifts, my training stagnated. At the same time, I was increasingly aware of a fitness phenomenon called CrossFit. In spite of apparent tensions between the discipline of strength and condi­ tioning and CrossFit, including a threat to technique and the quality of

Our gym bodies and fitness cultures   5

Figure 1.1 ‘Chucking some tin’ around the gym. Photograph courtesy of Fiona Cole Photography.

movement as a result of completing lifts under anaerobic and aerobic fatigue, I was intrigued. CrossFit promised a staggering variety of exercises and a seemingly unparalleled level of exercise intensity. As it was packaged into a structured programme under the supervision of a coach, I hoped that faults in my lifting techniques would be identified and I would improve. It also looked fun. Having spent the last 15 years working out on my own, I was ready to train with others. I was excited, and daunted. Having now endured six surgeries to my knee I assumed I was unable to do CrossFit or compete against others. I had also seen the online videos of elite competitors at the CrossFit Games achieving superhuman feats and had attempted one or two of the exercises with little success. My evolution into becoming a ‘CrossFitter’ is where my gym journey currently resides, the experiences of which are explored in Chapter 7.

Ian2 I had initially started going to the gym in my early twenties when I damaged a tendon in my shoulder whilst playing tennis. I was advised to strengthen the muscles around my shoulder, as well as adapt the technique on my service action. I was at university in London at that time (in the late 1980s) and started attending a large gym in Covent Garden. The gym was a revelation

6  James Brighton et al. for me. I had previously considered gyms to be the haunts of bodybuilders, but this one was frequented by a disparate group. They included local workers, dancers, actors, sports enthusiasts and bodybuilders. There was a noticeable gay presence as it was at a time when bodywork and muscularity were becoming increasingly popular within gay culture (Simpson, 1994; Alvarez, 2010). However, because of its location, the gym was also frequented by many familiar television personalities and it was exciting to be working out alongside a TV Gladiator or film star. Consequently, the gym became a space that I enjoyed going to, not only as a means to physically strengthen my shoulder, but for many other contrasting reasons that related to the negotiation of my social and personal identities. Particularly important for me was the revelation that a ‘sporting’ space could be one where I could feel more relaxed about bodily and sexual identities. During this time I was playing tennis at a local club. These sports spaces were, however, extremely hegemonic (Connell, 2005) and I did not feel that there were opportunities for me to negotiate my sexuality in any other way than by keeping quiet and performing in ‘expected’ ways (Wellard, 2009). That period of time was spent negotiating a range of separate identities where sport and personal life never really crossed paths. This particular gym offered one space where it felt for me that the two could mix. It was during that period in the late eighties that I developed a ‘love’ of going to the gym. It was in that ‘safe’ space that I was able to develop the skills (or perform in the manner required) often seen as part of the unwritten rules that determine participation in other gyms (such as presumption of ability, bodybuilding knowledge and hegemonic displays of sporting masculinity). Consequently, although I have never possessed a bodybuilder’s body, my knowledge of the ways to ‘perform’ within the context of a gym (Fussell, 1992; Klein, 1993) has meant that I have been able to take part in other gyms during other stages in my life and in various locations in the UK. Working out at the gym has remained the most constant part of my ‘sporting’ life since that first visit in the 80s as there have been many periods when injury has interrupted playing tennis or swimming as much as I would like. The gym provides a much needed outlet for physical expression in that I am able to adapt my workout routines to the needs of my body and ‘work’ around my knee as well as incorporate rehabilitation exercises for the specific injury. I am sure I am not the only person who enjoys the physical sensation of working out. I like how my body feels during a workout and there are particular exercises that I enjoy doing more than others. There are times when I am on the treadmill or cross­-trainer ​­ when a particular song plays on the sound system. It makes me want to dance. Even though I refrain from breaking into dance, I like the exhilarating feeling it gives me and how it makes me step up the intensity of my effort. Like Sparkes (2010), I enjoy the physical reactions to a workout, such as the sweating and experiencing the differing strains placed upon my body during the exercises. These physical

Our gym bodies and fitness cultures   7 sensations can be understood through a corporeal interpretation in the same way as body­-​­reflexive pleasures (Wellard, 2012). On these occasions I enjoy feeling that my body is being tested in some way and that I am pushing my body and exploring its limits. However, these specific feelings of enjoyment are based upon a reflexive ‘taking stock’ of my body at that particular time. There are days when I am feeling healthier than other days. I have learned the signs and draw upon previous experiences to compare with my current ‘condition’. On the occasions when I am feeling healthy, I am like a child and can feel myself walking faster, sometimes feeling the urge to skip or jump and run. The gym provides a space for me to do this without having to feel the ‘shame’ that Probyn (2005) describes in relation to embodied actions that may be considered as inappropriate in certain social settings. Other times when I might feel weaker there is a correlation with how I feel physically and the way that I perceive my outward social identity. These feelings have occurred throughout my life. It is not something that has happened in later life. These feelings also draw upon the memories of pleasurable moments that I have experienced in my life. My memory bank of healthy moments helps me recognise the signs and feelings and, importantly, encourages me to make the most of those moments when I feel healthy. The gym provides a more accessible outlet for responding to the different physiological states of health or ‘fitness’ that I experience. I am aware that the notion of pushing one’s limits both equates with and contradicts Pronger’s (2002) descriptions of the contemporary discourses of fitness that I am succumbing to. However, whereas the technologies of fitness that he asserts are creating restricted embodied boundaries, there appears to be also a modicum of agency in that I am aware of those discourses but still feel ‘attracted’ to the sensations that participating delivers. For me, rather than necessarily being an oppressive place, the gym provides a specific space, among a variety of spaces, providing a positive experience in my everyday life. It has been interpreted for me in terms of flexibility in comparison with playing tennis or swimming. As I have become older, tennis and swimming have required greater preparation, especially in terms of when, where and how I can play tennis with others or go to a swimming pool as well as in relation to the physical demands placed upon my body. Unlike Sparkes (2010), I do not see the space of the modern gym as isolating and lonely. There is an aspect of going to the gym where I enjoy that I can be invisible in a way that allows a positive form of self­-​ ­imposed isolation. Going to the gym is a time and space away from my work and I specifically chose the gym I attend on a regular basis as one that is not part of my university. It is a large gym with many members and I do not know people there by name. I do not want to. In the same way that other people speak about ‘escaping’ in a large city, I enjoy participating among the other members, but ‘on my own’. In particular, for me, the gym provides a different form of enjoyment (one that is ontological, temporal

8  James Brighton et al. and spatial as well as (anti)social, physical and psychological) and is a complete contrast to the more social aspects of playing tennis. As I have aged, I have realised that I enjoy working out at the gym more. A significant factor in this assessment is my awareness that I am less conscious of comparing myself to other men or other bodies in the way I was during my twenties. However, there are still elements of vanity that influence my motivations for participation. I am conscious that I do not want to look like a ‘typical’ middle­-​­aged man with a large belly. I want to be lithe and flexible in a way that makes me not want to take up too much space or attract attention. There are a number of competing sensibilities here. They relate to my perceptions of power relations, sexuality and heteronormativity. I realise that these are conflicting discourses which are operating within the context of heterosexuality and gay masculinity. Sparkes (2010) can be seen to view his participation at the gym within the lens of heteronormativity and possibly with a sense of ‘loss’ in relation to the construction of the dominant youthful male body and his perception of age removing him from this ideal. The aging body, for him, has created an awareness of his ‘outsiderness’ through the realisation that his body does not comply with the prevalent discourses of youth operating in the social space of the ‘gym’. Although the gay male body has been equally subjected to discourses of the idealised, muscular body (Simpson, 1994) and obsession with youth (Edwards, 1997), there is a contrast to the heteronormative. Gay cultures and gyms have conflicting messages and not ones that are necessarily replicated within the hetero­ normative frame that Sparkes describes. Consequently, access to both has allowed me to cope with and negotiate an ‘outsider’ perspective without the sense of loss that Sparkes describes. I was never an ‘insider’ in the first place within these heteronormative discourses, although it might be the case that through my embodied practices within the space of the gym, I have become more of an insider than I realised (Figure 1.2). In addition I am aware that the sensibilities I have developed as a sociologist have influenced my ‘resistance’ to presenting (through my bodily hexis) the excesses that I see within the heterosexual matrix (Butler, 1993) and in the broader context of Western capitalism (Bourdieu, 2001; Connell, 2007). I have been conscious in my efforts not to project such excesses through either an overdeveloped muscular body or a corpulent (corporate male businessman) body. Staying slim is a way that I feel I am resisting these discourses and helps me convince myself that I am not one of those middle­-​ ­aged and middle­-​­class fat cats! Consequently, one aspect of my enjoyment of the gym and doing sport is that I can maintain a particular ‘type’ of body as well as an inflationary sense of self in the knowledge that I am a lot fitter than many other men my age. However, these egoistic sensibilities are countered by the additional knowledge that even though I am not making efforts to increase muscle mass like a bodybuilder, I am still adopting similar forms of body modification through exercise and diet, and, ultimately, adhering to the forms of body fascism that Pronger (2002) criticises.

Our gym bodies and fitness cultures   9

Figure 1.2 Ian becoming a gym insider.

Amy From the age of three I started gymnastics and was immersed into the world of ‘tumble tots’. Enjoying learning how to move my body in fluid and graceful ways, I practised at every opportunity, doing cartwheels and flips at home, in the garden and at the gym. As I improved quickly, my coaches

10  James Brighton et al. were keen to advance my developing skillset and I became disciplined into the world of competitive gymnastics. The next few years were consumed with training 12 hours a week for the women’s artistic four piece, consisting of performances on the uneven bars, beam, floor and vault. Over time, the intensity of this aspiring athletic identity took its toll on my body. My hands were constantly throbbing, blistered and raw from the uneven bars, my joints sore, and my developing muscles exhausted. I continuously emitted an overpowering clinical smell of Savlon that I used to rub into my torn hands to ease the stinging sensation, and deep heat which provided light relief to muscular tenderness. After ten years of being submerged into the world of gymnastics and the rigours of training and competition, I became weary and fed up of constantly experiencing pain and decided on a change. My fitness gym life started when I was 18. I became qualified as an instructor and gained employment at the local ‘spit and sawdust’ gym (see description in Chapter 5). In spite of undertaking this course, I had never actually entered a gym like this before, and I was ill prepared for the sensorial onslaught that I was about to encounter. Stepping into the old industrial warehouse that had been renovated into a gym, the Prodigy’s ‘Smack My Bitch Up’ thumped around the walls, penetrating deep into my core. I could almost inhale the smell of metal. Looking around, I was immediately struck by how men dominated the gym space, occupying most of the areas of the gym. They seemed to talk in confident, boisterous and aggressive tones and there was a hustle and bustle of swearing, laughter and misogynistic banter. The odd scream of exertion would pierce the musty air when someone was pushing out a heavy rep. The marginalisation of women within these gym spaces seemed almost normalised. In spite of this obvious male dominance, however, I was drawn to gyms. I enjoyed the alternative training offered and developing a rapport with other gym members. I also wanted to build my fitness knowledge and was determined to carve a space for myself as a female fitness trainer. Whilst working part time at the gym and completing my under­graduate degree in Sport and Exercise Sciences, I started to reflect and think about the complex relationship(s) that I developed with sport and physical activity, and more specifically my sporting body throughout my life. This was not necessarily straightforward and generated an array of emotions. I found myself obligated to concentrate exclusively on performing arbitrary activities within the gym to prove my worth, such as lifting 50 kg weights and chalking up my hands to perform chin­-​­ups. I also discovered that being in the gym environment amongst others enabled me to ‘push’ myself even when I didn’t feel like working out (Sassatelli, 1999a; b) and provided a space for me to work on my own aesthetic frustrations and aspirations, such as gaining muscle mass and trying to achieve a toned, muscular physique. Now also qualified as a personal trainer, I soon realised that my body was becoming my currency, and learned to develop and perform it as

Our gym bodies and fitness cultures   11 my ‘business card’, ensuring my physicality was credible to successfully recruit and retain clients (Hutson, 2013). Despite the difficulties I encountered as a female working in a male dominated gym, it became a safe space for me to flourish and enjoy the embodied pleasures that my body had to offer in different ways. I became completely engrossed in gym life, not only working as a trainer, but working out every day too. Like James and Ian, I had learned the ‘rules of the gym game’ by developing a set of typical body movements and mannerisms within specific fields or settings that allowed me to be successful within them. I would regularly glug back a protein shake and engage in crass banter in an attempt to fit in and be seen as ‘one of the lads’. I’d chalk up my hands (nostalgically bringing back memories of my gymnastic life) and join them in completing personal best deadlifts or bench presses. Looking back, I am now conscious that I became a ‘docile body’ (Foucault, 1981), complicit in reproducing oppressive masculine linguistics and behaviours rather than critiquing or challenging them. After a few years of instructing, a fitness movement called ‘Spinning’ was becoming increasingly popular and I became captivated by what it had to offer. I qualified as an instructor and started to deliver regular classes on a weekly basis (Figure 1.3). It was a very different activity that my body experienced in comparison to the ‘freer’ movements that gymnastics granted. The bike restricted and disciplined my body and the Spinning room itself offered

Figure 1.3 Amy in the Spinning studio. Photograph courtesy of Andy Stroud Photography.

12  James Brighton et al. a specialised area of fitness within an enclosed space, what Foucault (1991) would deem a “protected place of disciplinary monotony”, a sanctuary for disciplinary action. Now increasingly mindful of the forms of oppression experienced by women in the gym (and the docility I subsumed to in the face of them) and the way that gym practices discipline the body, I decided to pursue a PhD in order to further critically explore these issues. Taking a self­-​­reflexive and critical feminist ideological position, my experiences of Spinning are explored in Chapter 8. The personal reflections above provide an indication of the complex ways in which we have come to engage in different gyms over time. Indeed, these fitness spaces have become central pillars in our lives through which we have experienced and constructed understandings of our bodies, selves and the social and cultural worlds we inhabit. Rather than just a physical experience, the emotional engagement is equally telling in our stories. Consequently, our approach to exploring gym cultures is to embrace the whole ‘embodied package’ of going to the gym. In taking embodiment as a central theoretical approach, we recognise that the living, breathing, sensuous, ‘enfleshed’ body (Sparkes, 2017) figures centrally in people’s experiences of using gyms, informing motivations, forms of body work undertaken and adherence to alternative gym practices over time. Whilst we acknowledge that the three of us are unapologetic in our enthusiasm for fitness training, we are also aware that our experiences are not uniform. Indeed, the subjectivity in our experiences in ‘going to the gym’ cannot be ignored as they are influenced by a range of competing social, physiological and psychological factors shaped through (our individual interpretation of) Western knowledge about the body, our own body types as well as our gender and emotional relationships towards our bodies and others. Recognising that we are individually gendered, sexed and aged, we self­-​­reflexively explore gym bodies and movement cultures through our uniquely intersecting embodied identities. Before we do so however, we must first introduce an understanding of what ‘going to the gym’ is.

‘Going to the gym’ Going to the gym has come to denote a dizzying array of fitness practices. These include resistance and elliptical training on the ‘gym floor’, but also encompass group exercise classes such as circuit training, Spinning, step and aqua aerobics, Les Mills Fitness’ bodypump, bodyattack, bodybalance, bodycombat and high intensity interval training (HIIT) as well as more holistic activities (e.g. Pilates and yoga). As Heywood (2012) highlights, these physical practices are shaped by material and ideological conditions of their times, their popu­larity fluctuating in accordance with desired forms of physical expression. Given adequate time and wealth, individuals in contemporary, post­-​­industrial consumerist society therefore have a vast choice

Our gym bodies and fitness cultures   13 of what gym activities they engage in and what sort of body they cultivate. Indeed, within neoliberal political arrangements there is an increasing personal and moral responsibility for people to engage in practices that improve and maintain the look, health and functionality of the body (Shilling, 2003). Resultantly, gyms are also progressively deemed as important social institutions in the administration of ‘exercise as medicine’ (e.g. Cairney, McGannon  & Atkinson, 2018; Henderson et al., 2018) in response to a number of health ‘crises’ such as the obesity ‘epidemic’. Just as the variety of fitness practices and purposes of using the gym has evolved, so too have the spaces in which these activities take place. Gyms in the modern sense were ‘spit and sawdust’ with basic equipment, facilities and décor. Emerging in the 1950s, these dusty, dirty, musty spaces were often located underground next to sidewalks, giving rise to the name ‘gym rats’ for those that descended into their depths to industriously lift iron as a basic reproduction of manual labour (Chaline, 2015). Over time, these simple, raw, utilitarian, heavy­-​­duty, grungy spaces have diversified dramatically and now include state owned gyms and privately owned luxurious modern lifestyle clubs (MLCs) and increasingly, mass scale budget, universal gym spaces3 (globogyms). These mainstream commercial gyms are accompanied by specialised, ‘fit for purpose’ facilities including yoga, Pilates and personal training studios. Even more recently, functional fitness spaces, such as CrossFit ‘boxes’ which claim to offer an alternative to globogyms by providing a more authentic training through returning ‘primordial’ forms of movement and functionality have emerged. As will be discussed, each of these various forms of gym spaces nevertheless make similar claims about the uniqueness of their ‘product’. Gyms themselves do not just house fitness practices. They are not valueless spaces. Rather, their history, spatial geography, social location and membership construct specific movement cultures and meanings for the individuals that comprise them (Sassatelli, 2010; Sparkes, 2010). Gym users might select facilities most suited to their unique fitness goals, cost or location or to feel a sense of social belonging, ‘community’, and in order to demonstrate lifestyle choice through which particular forms of identity can be constructed (Belger, 2012). Others might attend gyms for salutary rationales such as seeking a sense of security, safety, routine, familiarity, and escape and respite from the uncertainties and complexities of everyday life (Segrave, 2000). Once people step inside gyms and become active participants as ‘users’ however they enter unique forms of what Bourdieu (1990: 126) refers to as ‘habitus’, sets of localised relations acting as ‘socialised subjectivity’ which over time become embodied. As will be demonstrated, gym spaces are not homogenous, uniform, static empty structures but are better understood as stratified, hybridised and transformative, each creating their own unique social dynamics, movement cultures and expression of the ‘fit’ body. Activities that take place within gym spaces require, in the very least, some bodily movement. Going to the gym is therefore fundamentally an

14  James Brighton et al. embodied activity. Depending on what practices we engage in, during a workout we may experience feelings of flow, transcendence, euphoria, pleasure, heat, happiness, nervousness, pain, desperation and anxiety (e.g. Allen­-​­Collinson & Owton, 2015; Heywood, 2015). The sensuousness of these experiences transcends beyond the activity itself. In the aftermath of a workout, we may feel relief and relaxation, calmness, thirst, hunger and contentment (Wellard, 2015). Our experiences of life’s other embodied pleasures such as drinking, eating and sex are enhanced. Although going to gym might be a fleeting and ephemeral part of our daily routines, therefore, its enduring affect is felt long beyond the workout itself (Hockey, 2019). The experiencing body should therefore figure centrally in analysis of gym practices and in exploring the processes through which our embodied identities, everyday routines, senses of self, subjectivities and social relationships are constructed. Accordingly, within this book we recognise the sensing, feeling and enfleshed carnality of gym users across varying fitness cultures. At the same time, we acknowledge the significance of an embodied practice that is, in itself, an example of a ‘whole package’ of engaging in a gym, one which entails not just a physical experience of ‘working out’ but also a variety of emotional feelings related to performances of identity (such as getting the gear, learning the moves and demonstrating them to others). In doing so, we recognise ‘social constructionist’ approaches to sociology which situate individual experience of the body, and physical, biological difference and restriction as entirely socially constructed. We also seek to employ more ‘embodied sociological approaches’ that speak through the living, breathing sentient body (Inckle, 2007). This involves variously undertaking methodological and theoretical approaches that ‘bring the body back in’ so that we may more adequately address the material and socially and culturally situated experiences of unstable, unfinished, diverse (gym) bodies (Sparkes, 2017). Finally, an embodied approach enables gym bodies to be explored inclusive of and through intersecting identities of sex, gender, disability, age and class. ‘Gym users’ in industry reports and disembodied academic literature are often grouped together in relation to a unitary, singular fixed identity characteristic with individual experiences homogenised. An embodied approach however accounts for the uniqueness of bodily experience and helps to reveal the unique and physical, social and cultural forms of oppression endured by people who embody multiple intersecting identity characteristics. As others have noted, historically, gym spaces have been the preserve of young, white, able, male bodies, central in developing hegemonic forms of masculinity (e.g. Klein, 1993). Conversely, individuals who fall outside of these parameters are considered ‘intruders’ and not welcome participants (Bolin  & Granskog, 2003). For example, women (e.g.  Dworkin, 2003), disabled (e.g. Richardson, Smith  & Papathomas, 2017), non­-​­white (Sparkes, Batey  & Brown, 2005) and non­-heterosexual ​­ (e.g. Alvarez, 2010) people are subject to structural, social and cultural

Our gym bodies and fitness cultures   15 barriers. An embodied approach extends analysis beyond the identification of given barriers and additionally acknowledges the physical, psychological and emotional responses individuals experience as a result of these restri­ ctions (Thomas, 2002). In summary, within this book embodiment is considered as the essential guiding concept in our explorations of fitness cultures. By developing an ‘enfleshed’ way of knowing and attuning to carnality and sensuousness of experience, understandings of ‘going to the gym’ are explored through the bodies of gym users themselves. This approach requires us to be constantly mindful of the conceptual lenses and methodological processes when attempting to capture, interpret and understand what is happening within the gym cultures that we explore. Crucially, our adoption of an ‘embodied approach’ to exploring movement cultures is heavily influenced by a self­-​ ­reflexive strategy where we attempt to remain alert to our own perceptions, feelings and orientations to physical activity. As such, we have been keen to ‘lay our cards on the table’ in declaring that we share a positive orientation to physical activity that has shaped our relationship to sport and our own bodies, not only in terms of recreational pursuits but also in terms of our chosen career paths. Nevertheless, our academic backgrounds in sociology (of sport and the body) have sharpened a self­-​­reflexive, critical lens and we have been equally concerned with employing an embodied, reflexive approach so as to help us remain alert to the many inconsistencies with decla­rations that all sport and physical activity is ultimately positive.

Outline of chapters and boundaries In order to adequately reflect on our experiences of using gyms, we must first establish a theoretical grounding. In Chapter 2, ‘Conceptualising gym bodies’, we therefore position the embodied approaches which inform our thinking. Current conceptual architecture that is available for ‘bringing the body back in’ to the analysis of (gym) bodies and movement cultures is explored. Whilst there are a number of theories available to draw upon, we provide an overview of embodied sociological, phenomenological, sensuous and autoethnographic approaches and how they may be used to inform and extend our interpretations of the fleshy gym body. Important empirical applications of these theories are provided from current sociological analysis, providing a flavour of current thinking about gym bodies. In Chapter 3, the historical, social, cultural and political context for research is provided through mapping the evolvement of gyms and contemporary notions of physical fitness. Trends and motivations for using gyms are acknowledged before in­ -​­ depth discussions on ‘body projects’ (Shilling, 1993) and the intensifying requirement to embody physical perfectionism within ocularcentric and aestheticised Western culture are provided. In doing so, the gym is positioned as a convenient, if problematic

16  James Brighton et al. site for self­-​­transformation. In Chapter 4, methodological acknowledgement is outlined which serves to highlight how, as ‘gym bodies in the field’, movement cultures were explored under embodied research methodologies. Reflections on how important elements of a qualitative research design are implemented, including our ethnographic approach and the positions of our own fleshy (gym) bodies in the field, are provided. In Chapter 5, ‘Gym spaces’ are explored, revealing the varied and complex ways in which individuals develop relationships with the material, social and cultural worlds found within gym environments. In doing so, the importance of bodily display and performance is demonstrated in order for gym goers to be included in the production of social behaviour. Whilst acknowledging that these are not the only gym spaces that exist, nor that they should be thought of in a binary way, analysis of the ‘spit and sawdust’ gyms are contrasted with the evolvement of commercial gyms (MLCs and globogyms). The chapter concludes with a discussion of the rise of functional fitness, with a specific focus on CrossFit, which we provide as a key example throughout the book as it provides a means to assess whether this ‘primordial’ return to fitness destabilises ‘modern’ gym spaces, knowledge and practice. The spatial analysis offered helps set the scene for the subsequent in­-​­depth explorations of our own selected gym experiences. Here we respond to the dearth of sociological attention that has been given to the actual experiences of ‘doing’ sport and exercise, and specifically, “doing sport together” (Allen­ -​ ­Collinson & Hockey, 2017: 173). We drip sweat, spill blood, tear skin and experience first­-​­hand the embodied sensations alongside other gym users. Whilst these experiences can initially be seen as unique to the gym space they can also reveal broader and complex relationships that correspond with formulations of the contemporary social body. Accordingly, we reflect on how our bodies and the bodies of other gym users are shaped, performed and presented within these gym activities. In Chapter 6, ‘Being personally trained’, Ian reflects on his experiences of putting himself in the hands of ‘fitness experts’ and the forms of knowledge which inform these interactions and understandings of body and self, destabilising dominant understandings of health and fitness through three vignettes of i) shared pain, ii) internal struggles and iii) influence of others – highlighting how the experience of ‘doing’ fitness related activities is influenced by a range of competing factors. In Chapter 7, ‘CrossFit’, James traces his journey into CrossFit, an infinitely varied and interdisciplinary approach to fitness that combines elements of multiple sports including Olympic weightlifting, gymnastics and athletics. Through his corporeal immersion in the activity itself, James offers sensuous reflections of ‘doing’ CrossFit and key themes that emerged including: competition and surveil­ lance, embodied ‘pains’ and ‘pleasures’, pushing the body to the edge, injury, empowerment and transformation. In doing so, CrossFit is examined as an important yet contested phenomenon in contemporary fitness cultures. Subsequently, in Chapter 8, ‘Spinning’, Amy provides an analysis of

Our gym bodies and fitness cultures   17 leading a ‘Spinning’ session, a contemporary, indoor, stationary cycling class set to a music playlist in which participants enact various positions on bicycles including to create both cardio and strength workouts (Hernandez, 2001). In doing so, she outlines the journey various female spinners undertake, and the deep physical and emotive affect engaging in this gym practice has on their body–self relationships and feelings of empowerment. Finally, in Chapter 9, reflections of gym spaces and gym experiences are offered. Drawing together key themes from Chapter 5 (gym spaces) and ­Chapters 6–8 (gym experiences) which explored the development of contemporary gyms and the bodies that have traditionally been ‘allowed’ to experience them, reflections are provided on bodies that have not always been considered welcome participants. Discussion is expanded to consider the extent that gyms have progressed inclusive of all bodies, or if wider exclusionary social discourses prevail in more sophisticated ways. We conclude by offering suggestions about what is missing from our interpretations of the gym body in contemporary society.

Notes 1 Latissimus dorsi. 2 Adapted from Wellard (2015). 3 According to the 2018 State of the UK Fitness Industry Report which outlines the growing rate of private low cost gyms in the fitness market.

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18  James Brighton et al. Bourdieu, P. & Wacquant, L. (1992) An Invitation to Reflexive Sociology. Cambridge: Polity Press. Butler, J. (1993) Bodies That Matter: On The Discursive Limits of Sex. London & New York: Routledge. Cairney, J., McGannon, K.  & Atkinson, M. (2018) Exercise is medicine: Critical considerations in the qualitative research landscape. Qualitative Research in Sport, Exercise and Health, 10 (4), 391–399. Available at: https://doi.org/10.1080/21596 76X.2018.1476010 Chaline, E. (2015) The Temple of Perfection: A History of the Gym. London: Reaktion Books. Connell, R.W. (1987) Gender and Power: Society, the Person and Sexual Politics. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Connell, R. (2005) Masculinities, 2nd ed. Cambridge: Polity Press. Connell, R. (2007) Southern Theory: Social Science and Global Dynamics of Knowledge. Oxford, Cambridge & Boston: Polity Press. Douglas, K.  & Carless, D. (2009) Abandoning the performance narrative: two women’s stories of transition from professional sport. Journal of Applied Sport Psychology, 21 (2), 213–230. Dworkin, S.L. (2003) A woman’s place is in the … cardiovascular room? In: Bolin, A. & Granskog, J. (eds.), Athletic Intruders: Ethnographic Research on Women, Culture and Exercise. Albany: State University of New York Press. Edwards, K. (1997) Embodied Practices: Feminist Perspectives on the Body. London, Thousand Oaks, IL & New Delhi: Sage Publications. Frank, A.W. (1995) The Wounded Storyteller. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Fussell, S.W. (1992) Muscle: Confessions of an Unlikely Bodybuilder. New York: Poseidon Press. Foucault, M. (1981) The History of Sexuality (Volume 1). Harmondsworth: Penguin. Foucault, M. (1991) Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison. London: Penguin Books. Henderson, H.E., Evans, A.B., Allen­-​­Collinson, J.  & Siriwardena, N.A. (2018) The “wild and woolly” world of exercise referral schemes: Contested interpretations of an exercise as medicine programme. Qualitative Research in Sport, Exercise and Health, 10 (4), 505–523. Available at: https://doi.org/10.1080/2159676X.2017.1352018 Hernandez, F.J. (2001) Method of Exercise Using a Spinning Cycle. Los Angeles, CA: Madd Dog Athletics Inc, pp.  1–4. Available at: www.freepatentsonline.com/​ 6287239.html (Accessed: 21st June 2020). Heywood, L. (2012) Building otherwise: Bodybuilding as immersive practice. In: Locks, A. & Richardson, N. (eds.), Critical Readings in Bodybuilding. London & New York: Routledge, pp. 122–140. Heywood, L. (2015) The CrossFit sensorium: Visuality, affect and immersive sport. Paragraph, 38 (1), 20–36. Hockey, J. (2019) Everyday routines as transformative processes: A sporting case. Sociological Research Online, 24 (2), 219–234. Hutson, D.J. (2013) “Your body is your business card”: Bodily capital and health authority in the fitness industry. Social Science & Medicine, 90, 63–71. Inckle, K. (2007) Writing on the body? Thinking Through Gendered Embodiment and Marked Flesh. Cambridge: Cambridge Scholars Publishing. Klein, A. (1993) Little Big Men: Bodybuilding Subculture and Gender Construction. New York: State University of New York Press.

Our gym bodies and fitness cultures   19 Leder, D. (1990) The Absent Body. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Merleau­-​­Ponty, M. (1962) Phenomenology of Perception. London: Routledge  & Kegan Paul. Monaghan, L. (1999) Creating “the perfect body”: A variable project. Body  & Society, 5 (2–3), 267–290. Monaghan, L. (2001) Bodybuilding, Drugs and Risk. London: Routledge. Phoenix, C. & Orr, N. (2014) Pleasure: A forgotten dimension of physical activity in older age. Social Science and Medicine, 115, 94–102. Available at: https://doi. org/10.1016/j.socscimed.2014.06.013 Probyn, E. (2005) Blush: Faces of Shame. Sydney: University of New South Wales Press. Pronger, B. (2002) Body Fascism: Salvation in the Technology of Fitness. Toronto: University of Toronto Press. Richardson, E.V., Smith, B.  & Papathomas, A. (2017) Disability and the gym: Experiences, barriers and facilitators of gym use for individuals with physical disabilities. Disability & Rehabilitation, 39 (19), 1950–1957. Sassatelli, R. (1999a) Fitness gyms and the local organisation of experience. Sociological Research Online, 4 (3), 1–21. Sassatelli, R. (1999b) Interaction order and beyond: A field analysis of body culture within fitness gyms. Body and Society, 5 (2–3), 227–248. Sassatelli, R. (2010) Fitness Culture, Consumption and Everyday Life. London: Palgrave Macmillan. Segrave, J.O. (2000) Sport as escape. Journal of Sport & Social Issues, 24 (1), 61–77. Shilling, C. (1993) The Body and Social Theory: 1st Ed. London: Sage Publications. Shilling, C. (2003) The Body and Social Theory: 2nd Ed. London: Sage Publications. Simpson, M. (1994) Male Impersonators: Men Performing Masculinity. London  & New York: Continuum Publishing. Sparkes, A.C. (2010) Performing the ageing body and the importance of place: Some autoethnographic moments. In: Humberstone, B. (ed.), When I Grow Old: Third Age Leisure Research: Principles and Practice. Brighton: Leisure Studies Association. Sparkes, A.C. (2017) Seeking the Senses in Physical Culture: Sensuous Scholarship in Action. London & New York: Routledge. Sparkes, A.C. Batey, J. & Brown, D. (2005) The muscled self and its aftermath: A life history study of an elite, male bodybuilder. Auto/Biography, 13 (2), 131–139. Sparkes, A.C., Partington, E.  & Brown D.H.K. (2007) Bodies as bearers of value: the transmission of jock culture via the “Twelve Commandments”. Sport, Education and Society, 12 (3), 295–316. State of the United Kingdom (UK) Fitness Industry Report (2018) London: The Leisure Database Company. Available at: www.leisuredb.com/publications (Accessed: 26th February 2020). Thomas, C. (2002) The “disabled” body. In: Evans, M. & Lee, E. (eds.), Real Bodies. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, pp. 64–78. Wellard, I. (2009) Sport, Masculinities and the Body. London: Routledge. Wellard, I. (2012) Body­-​­reflexive pleasures: exploring bodily experiences within the context of sport and physical activity. Sport, Education and Society, 17 (1), 21–33. Wellard, I. (2015) Researching Embodied Sport: Exploring Movement Cultures. London: Routledge. Zaner, R. (1981) Context of Self: Phenomenological Inquiry. Athens, Ohio: Ohio University Press.

2 Conceptualising gym bodies James Brighton, Ian Wellard and Amy Clark

Bringing the (gym) body back in In this chapter we outline the theoretical architecture which provides the grounding through which we have come to an embodied understanding of gym bodies and fitness cultures. Since what some have termed the ‘somatic turn’ in the social sciences (Turner, 1989; Frank, 1991; Shilling, 1993), the ‘body’ is now readily acknowledged in academic analyses. Many of these approaches to the ‘sociology of the body’ however remain informed by social constructionism, a theoretical approach that situates individual experience of the body, and physical, difference entirely as socially constructed. Although these approaches are important in revealing discursive construction and regulation, they focus their analyses and write ‘about the body’ as an object in abstract and disembodied ways and have received criticism for ignoring the “fleshy, messy, material (biological) and sentient body along with the practical experiences of those who inhabit what have variously been called live and real bodies” (Sparkes, 2017a: 3). The enfleshed and experiencing body is however integral in perception and meaning making (e.g. Williams  & Bendelow, 1998; Sparkes, 2009; Vannini, Waskul  & Gottschalk, 2013). As Connell (1995: 53) reinforces, bodies and bodily experience form the very basis through which we construct meanings of ourselves and the world around us and so should not be ignored, as they are “central in memories of our lives, and thus our understanding of who and what we are”. Calls within the ‘somatic turn’ have therefore been extended to develop theoretical approaches that more adequately account for the material and biologically based experiences of different bodies. It is these approaches that variously inform our embodied and ‘enfleshed’ ways of thinking in relation to exploring gym bodies and fitness cultures in this book, thereby more adequately accounting for fitness as an experiential and lived culture (Sassatelli, 2010). Specifically, we draw on the following approaches in exploring the experiences of sensing, situated, emotional, gym bodies and how these experiences inform corporeal knowledge and meanings in the lives of gym users.

Conceptualising gym bodies   21

Embodied sociological approaches Acknowledging that we are corporeal and emotional beings, embodied sociological approaches embrace the living, situated, ‘enfleshed’ nature of our realities (Shilling, 1993). Grounded understandings of human bodies and the relationship between body, self, culture and society are evoked by offering a shift from disembodied masculinist ways of thinking, to theorising ‘from’ lived bodies (Williams  & Bendelow, 1998). According to Inckle (2010: 35), this involves a sustained and committed engagement with the “messy, complex and contradictory factors at play in human experience, as well as the essentially emotive, corporeal and inter­ -​­ subjective, visceral, sentient nature of our being”. Accordingly, we draw on the theories below to help us develop embodied sociological approaches to exploring gym bodies. Phenomenological approaches Originally advanced by Edmund Husserl, phenomenology is the study of things as they present themselves to, and are perceived in, our consciousness. It aims to unearth and uncover pre­ -​­ intellectual direct descriptions of experience without taking into account psychological origin or causal explanation by questioning our tacit understandings of the world and instead “contemplate what it is to be a participant in the world, and how things present themselves to us” (Sokolowski 2000: 48). Although there are multiple ‘strands’ of phenomenology, primacy is afforded to lived experience with the aim to “capture as closely as possible the way in which the phenomenon is experienced within the context in which the experience takes place” (Giorgi & Giorgi, 2003: 27). The aim is therefore to approach a given phenomenon with an “open and questioning attitude, a sense of child­-​­like wonder, suspending as far as possible our taken­-​­for­-​­granted, everyday assumptions” (Allen­-​­Collinson & Leledaki, 2015: 5). Whereas Husserl’s philosophical focus was primarily on the connections between mind and world, Merleau­-​­Ponty’s (1962) existential strand of phenomenology places importance on the ‘lived body’ (Leib) as an ‘embodied consciousness’. By linking mind and body in ‘being­-​­in­-​­the­-​­world’ (Dasein), Cartesian mind/body dualisms are transcended by the materiality of the body and the corporeal element of existence welcomed back into analysis. Given that going to the gym is an embodied activity, ‘working out’ should not be conceived of in entirely abstract or cognitive ways, but acknowledge the importance of the moving, sensing, bodily experiences in perception and constructing meaning. The gym body is therefore more adequately conceived of as not just experienced, but by forming the very basis of experience, providing one’s window on the world. As will be demonstrated, welcoming the corporeality, subjectivity and emotionality experienced by ‘fleshy’ gym users back into analysis offers insight into personal embodied experience and reveals important critiques of social and structural forms of

22  James Brighton et al. oppression that exist in alternative contexts. Accordingly, within this broader phenomenological framework, the following theoretical tools are particularly useful in developing deep carnal understandings of the lives of gym users and exposing restrictive social structures. Sociological phenomenological approaches Although philosophical phenomenology emphasises the situatedness of the body, it can be argued that there is a lack of analytic attention to socio­-cultural ​­ and structural influences on lived bodily experience and sense of embodiment. It has also been criticised for its neglect surrounding central sociological variables such as gender, age, class, ethnicity, disability, and specific power relations (Sparkes, 2017a). Consequently, a ‘sociologised phenomenology’ has developed that can be used to shape and acknowledge such ‘differences’ (McNarry, Allen­ -​ ­Collinson & Evans, 2018). This existentialist empirical form of phenomenology recognises both “the ways in which the world, body and consciousness are all fundamentally intertwined, braided, inter­-​­relating and mutually influencing” (Allen­-​­Collinson  & Hockey, 2017: 175) and the structured, historical, social and cultural locatedness of everyday life experiences. In doing so, the lived body as the physical and material object of perception, and the standpoint from which the world is perceived and experienced, acts and experiences alternatively in specific socio­-​­cultural contexts and situations (Young, 2005; Allen­-​­Collinson, 2010). Scholars have taken alternative approaches to sociological phenomenology that can be used to help reveal rich, thick embodied empirical detail in breathing life into experiencing gym bodies. For example, Allen­ -Collinson ​­ and Owton (2015) explore the sensuosities of ‘intense embodiment’ or “periods of heightened awareness of corporeal existence” (p. 247) and how sensations of heat and the potent physicality experienced during exercise help us enjoy and make sense of boxing and long distance running. Similar to Leder’s (1990) phenomenological epistemology that illustrates how the functional and painless body ‘disappears’ from consciousness in harmonious body–self relationships, only to dys­ -​­ appear back into our consciousness through dys­ -​­ function (e.g.  pain, injury, disease, and psychological and emotional distress), intense embodiment recognises that conscious bodily awareness is also awakened through pleasurable experiences and a “heightened sense of corporeal ‘aliveness’ ” (p. 247). In doing so, negative associations of the ‘dys’ prefix are removed and established pain/pleasure binaries transgressed allowing for more nuanced understandings of corporeal sensuousness and the immediacy of experience. Such recognition helps us explore the ‘pleasures’ and ‘pains’ during exercise within alternative fitness cultures without being restricted by binary thought that has distinguished these carnal sensations.

Conceptualising gym bodies   23 Alternatively, in providing sociological analysis of the lived experiences of ‘doing’ sport and exercise with others, Allen­ -​­ Collinson and Hockey (2017) empirically apply the concept of ‘intercorporeal enaction’ and synchrony in analysing the shared life worlds of long distance runners as they work out together. Drawing on Merleau­-​­Ponty’s (1962) conceptions of inter­corpo­reality, which recognise that bodies become social as they share the same spaces and fields of perception, the authors illuminate how individuals develop synchronous experiential and corporeal ways of knowing, which can be applied to completing exercise in group settings. For them, attuning to the carnalities of experience helps regulate successful joint training sessions as the individual becomes more accustomed to the other and when they are performing well or struggling. Acknowledgement of these shared fields of perception helps us understand the experience of exercising within group exercise such as CrossFit (Chapter 7). Also employing a sociological phenomenological approach, Hockey (2019) attends to the significance of ‘everyday embodied routines’ and their importance in getting ready for, doing, and leaving physical training sessions and how individuals manage transitions between professional roles in paid employment, amateur athletic identities and domestic lives. The continuous reproduction of everyday routine events is central in providing stability and meaning to individual lives and social institutions (Giddens, 1984). Accordingly, scholars have made calls to give voice to the less obvious routines of everyday life (e.g. Highmore, 2002) and have highlighted how such analysis of routinised behaviour contributes to experiences and performances of sporting embodiment (Allen­ -​­ Collinson, 2009; Cherrington  & Watson, 2010; Cherrington, 2014). Hockey’s (2019) analysis of routinised and habitual long distance running sessions can help demonstrate how ‘going to the gym’ has become blended into everyday social lives of individuals and the porosity of the boundaries between professional, amateur athletic domestic roles as the gym becomes more important in their lives. Consideration of the everyday ‘mundane’ behaviours, rhythms and rituals of sporting embodiment (such as daily gym attendance) is therefore central in determining individuals’ sense of self and identity over time (Cherrington, 2014). Feminist phenomenological approaches Specifically focusing upon the social­-​­structural position of women within patriarchal systems of gender relations and the systematic disadvantages encountered, a growing strand of sociological phenomenology has been termed ‘feminist phenomenology’. Originally developed by de Beauvoir (1972) and Young (1980), feminist phenomenologists acknowledge and analyse the structural, cultural and historically located nature of gendered embodiment by attempting to make sense of lived experience specific to inhabiting a female body. A gendered lens is employed, acknowledging both the ‘essences’ of essential lived experiences and the influences and

24  James Brighton et al. pressures of social structures on these lived experiences within certain cultural spaces and times (Hockey & Allen­-​­Collinson, 2006; Allen­-Collinson, ​­ 2009; 2010). Rigorous and grounded analyses are provided that reveal the corporeal and cognitive complexity of experience through biologically sexed and socially situated gendered bodies. Feminist phenomenological approaches have been adopted with specific relevance to female gym bodies. McTavish (2015: xxviii) explores bodily sensations during weightlifting, and in particular, experiences of muscle failure and “recalcitrant materiality of the female body” and its stubborn refusal to be productive. She contends that as the body is introduced to a variety of novel sensations, muscle failure is sometimes mistaken as pain due to not falling within the realm of comfort, which is promoted as the only desirable kind of sensation within contemporary consumer culture. Rather than conceptualising bodybuilding as a pursuit of bodily discipline and pain, McTavish illuminates both irreducibility of bodily experience and limitations of the flesh. In doing so, she provides more nuanced understandings of the physicality of lifting weights beyond structured binaries of pain/pleasure and how these corporeal experiences transcend the flesh. A sensory revolution Set against this theoretical backdrop, and in order to attune to embodied sociological and phenomenologically inspired approaches that acknowledge the “here­-​­and­-now, ​­ raw reality of the body” (Sinclair, 2005: 90), further approaches to revealing grounded, visceral, and bottom­-up ​­ experience of the body are required. One attempt at doing this is through awakening the senses in our scholarship. As Hockey and Allen­ -​­ Collinson (2007: 116) reinforce, in order to engage with the phenomenology of the body we must also engage with the “the sensuous and sensing sporting body”. Nourishing sensuous research in sport and physical cultures offers rich and valuable insight into ways in which we interpret and evaluate the sporting worlds around us as embodied beings (Sparkes, 2009; 2017a). Acknowledging the obdurateness of our ‘fleshy’ existence, Mellor and Shilling (1997) underline that corporeal knowledge or ‘carnal knowledge’ is deeply connected to sensory experience. In order to explore the felt and sentient nature of embodied experience, we must attune to the sensuosities of bodies in the gym including how the senses structure our physical, psychological, emotional, social and cultural interpretations of the world around us. In response to critiques of overly linguistic and incorporeal analyses of the body and the predominance of ocularcentric ways of knowing in contemporary Western cultures in which sight has been favoured over the other, so­-called ​­ ‘lower’ visceral senses, the value of sensuous scholarship has been celebrated (e.g. Stoller, 1997; Howes, 2005). For Howes (2003) this ‘sensual revolution’ requires encouraging researchers to “break free from the spell of the specular and look, not beyond their noses, but at their

Conceptualising gym bodies   25 noses and all the rest of the human sensorium” (p. xiii). The senses and how they interplay, interact and the plurality in which they blend with each other are central in structuring everyday experience. Physical sensation should be understood as more than a physiological response to stimulus or structured by personal psychological experience. Rather, sensations should be understood collectively as decorated by cultural ideology and practice and as “the medium through which all the values and practices of society are enacted” (Howes, 2003: xi). Social roles and interactions are structured and divisions in relation to social categories such as gender, class and race are learned and performed via sensory distinction. As Howes (ibid.) indicates, “sensual relations are social relations”. In exploring these sensual relations we should recognise that no ‘natural’ state of the senses exists; senses should be better understood themselves as being socialised (Classen, 1993). As Howes and Classen (2014) and Vannini, Waskul and Gottschalk (2013) distinguish, there are multiple ways of sensing and sensual practices differ in alternative social and cultural settings and historical periods. Sensuous scholarship and the study of the senses is therefore a field in which the biological, psychological, social and cultural can be explored in developing embodied ways of knowing in alternative fitness cultures over time. As Allen­-​­Collinson and Hockey (2015: 63) reinforce however, historically, there has been little devotion “to the actual concrete practices of ‘doing’ or ‘producing’ sporting activity, particularly from a sensory ethnographic perspective”. In spite of ‘the body’ being central in sport and physical activity, until recently, there remained inadequate engagement with the “full spectrum of the senses” and how these sensory dimensions are “experienced in concert” (Spencer, 2012: 33) in the sociology of sport and exercise. In response to calls from a select number of scholars (Hockey, 2006; 2013; Hockey  & Allen­-​­Collinson, 2009; Sparkes, 2009; 2017a) this landscape is now changing as carnal explorations of sporting practices and the ‘enfleshed’ beings that comprise them are being increasingly developed. As Sparkes (2009; 2017a) suggests, these accounts offer more balanced considerations of embodiment including the senses of sound, smell, touch and taste as well as sight and how these sensorium structure spatial and temporal meaning in social and cultural settings. Gyms are structured by spatial and temporal arrangements in which bodies work out in contained spaces in intimate proximity to one another. These restricted yet ordered places are sensorial cauldrons in which we are potently exposed to a cacophony of sensations through which we come to know and feel ourselves in relation to the other bodies around us. When we enter these rich and textured sensorial landscapes, we synonymously become immersed in their social and cultural terrains. It is through the vast array of sensorial experiences that the gym “constitutes itself as a meaningful world” (Sassatelli, 2010: 9). In addition to the ocular, attuning to the ‘lower’ senses of sound, smell, taste and touch is important in structuring embodied

26  James Brighton et al. experience in movement cultures.1 In relation to what can be heard, aural landscapes contribute to structuring gendered, aged, sexed and classed constructions of meaning of gym practices (Sparkes, 2010). For example, Dworkin (2003) indicates how sound helps distinguish which sections of the gym are determined as masculine or feminine territories: One can hear the clang of the weights, mostly male grunts, the swish of air from air cam Nautilus stations, the murmur of music from speakers overhead, and the low hum of collective voices. Stories, laughter and yells are exchanged among lifting partners, well­ -​­ intentioned verbal jousts are passed back and forth, and the loud smack of “high fives” celebrate members’ personal bests … the fact that this is a male terrain quickly becomes clear. (p. 132) The sounds of the free weights area of the gym are constructed as distinctly masculine, contributing to understandings of this part of the gym as a male only preserve. What can be heard also plays key pedagogical tools in learning in gyms and fitness cultures. For example, exploring the aural landscapes experienced by Mixed Martial Arts (MMA) fighters, Spencer (2012) compellingly depicts how the sounds of the gym are central in gaining knowledge and competing with others. When training, fighters are required to respond to the commands of coaches and teammates and auditorily ‘latch’ on to the rhythms of music in order to achieve the level of intensity required and assess how hard their training partners are working. The various smellscapes inhaled in the gym offer further insight into how meaning is constructed, informing and structuring understandings of individual, group and place (Synnott, 1991). Attending to the olfactory, for example, is another way of establishing the intensity to which a body is working. For Hockey and Allen­-​­Collinson (2007: 122) the moving body is synonymous with sweating and a “pungency” through which individuals recognise how hard theirs and other bodies are working around them. Body odour is materially and symbolically representative of the ‘right’ level of intensity. In this regard, Atkinson (2017) attends to sweat and the cultural contexts in which it is experienced and interpreted, including the way it smells. Reflecting on Ashtanga yoga practised in temperatures of 100 degrees, sweat is normalised, acting as the “liquid currency of mental focus, physical effort and emotional experimentation” within the studio that sessions take place, yet outside of these spaces and left to fester the sweaty residues left on his clothing pollute the air with their “pungently acidic wafts” (p. 63). Using this as his departure point, Atkinson (2017) corporeally and symbolically explores how sweat is stigmatised and repulsed in many everyday cultural contexts, yet is imbued with alternative meanings and values (meritocratic, therapeutic, risky, erotic, shameful, commercial, existential and connective) in sport and in ways that shape our experience and identities.

Conceptualising gym bodies   27 Alternatively, Spencer (2012) explores the importance of the olfactory and combat, and in particular, how smelling the odours of other people around us structures experience and behaviour. Recognising the visceral quality of smell and its ability to evoke memories of distant times, places and people in ways unrivalled by the other senses, Spencer elaborates on how the unique smell of the other informs our relations to them, and how particular smells (e.g. rancid bad breath) can grip our attention and change behaviour over time, in this case in the way fighters engage with an opponent. As Curtis (2008) points out, our sense of the other, their importance to us, and our history with them are formed in and through smell which is intensely manifested both in real­-time ​­ interaction and engrained over time. Closely related to smell, tastescapes play an important role in developing and organising cultural understandings (Stoller, 1989; Falk, 1994; Sparkes, 2009). Within the gym environments, fitness training is only seen as one part of the equation for gym users achieving their goals. For many, strict diets, supplement ingestion and maintaining hydration are all considered important functions within the gym, the taste of which substances structures experience. Gym users may for example take sweet ‘pre­ -​­ workout’ drinks consisting of simple sugars to assist energy release and caffeine to provide a buzz to enhance mood prior to a workout, and ingest proteins, often in the form of convenient ‘shakes’ within the ‘anabolic window’ post workout in which the body shifts from a catabolic to anabolic state, helping to recover and build muscle. Amongst bodybuilders, food is deemed as utilitarian and ascetic and is consumed in strictly controlled quantities and timings with taste being secondary (Fussell, 1992; Monaghan, 2001). The weekly rituals of meal prepping provide further evidence of self­-​­discipline and abstention practised amongst serious resistance trainers (Bunsell, 2013). Consequently, the repetition of monotonous diets and forced ingestion of bland tasting food structures daily experience, conditioning individuals to prepare and recover for physical activity through association (Allen­-​­Collinson & Hockey, 2017; Hockey, 2019). Additionally, taste plays essential roles in sport and exercise beyond the boundaries of food and drink. Experiencing the taste of blood, for example, is a call for MMA fighters to ‘wake up’ in fights when they have been hit by an opponent and a marker of belonging to a ‘community’ of fighters in which bodies affect and are affected by other bodies in combat (Spencer, 2012). In spite of the importance of taste, very little research has addressed the tastescapes experienced in gym settings and how these phenomena structure experience and provide meaning within these cultural milieus. Finally in relation to the value of sensuous scholarship, successful athletic movement requires the development of particular senses of moving, timing and touch which, over time, foster a sense of corporeal awareness that individuals continually and self­ -reflexively ​­ attend to

28  James Brighton et al. (Hockey  & Allen­ -​­ Collinson, 2007). In spite of this, the importance of tactility remains shockingly under­-​­theorised (Petersen, 2007). This is particularly surprising given that participants in a variety of sports talk about developing a ‘feel for the game’ and long distance runners, for example, develop senses of knowing the ‘going’ by what can be felt both intra­ -​ corporeally and inter­ ­ -​­ corporeally (Hockey, 2013). As Kerr et al. (2015) elucidate, for example, coach­-​­athlete touching in the form of hugs, high fives, physical manipulation, pats on the back, hand shaking and spotting has many important affective (affirmation, reassurance, cohesion, motivational), behavioural (reinforcement, instruction, focus), safety (harm prevention, injury assessment) and cultural (sport­-​­specific rituals, respect) benefits in sport and exercise settings. Exploring the affective and sentient feelings of touch is important in developing understandings of how individuals learn embodied gym practices, how they become habituated over time, and how meaning is constructed in alternative movement cultures. Touch, for example, plays an important pedagogical and functional component as we develop corporeal forms of knowledge through proprioceptive learning. We learn to feel for external material objects such as a barbell. We can sense its pressure on our hands and we gauge its path and the different forces that have to be applied at different ranges of motion by different parts of our body through our muscles, tendons and ligaments proprioceptively feeding information back to us. These sensations are experienced in real time in their raw immediacy as each repetition is executed, but are also simultaneously corporeally understood through judging how movement is felt, not only after the rep is completed but while it is still in process, through formation of habit over time. Feelings of a successful repetition are conveyed to others such as training partners or clients who are being personally trained in relation to establishing the ‘correct’ technique (Wellard, 2018). Furthermore, as Greif (2017) ascertains, the whole endeavour of using a gym is also to feel different (i.e. better) through the development of a ‘superior’ corporeality: Exercise does make you, as a statistical person, part of different aggregate categories that die with less frequency at successive ages. It furnishes a gain in odds. This is the main public rationale for those billions of man­-​­and woman­-​­hours in the gym. The truth, however, is also that being healthy makes you feel radically different. For a segment of its most ardent practitioners, exercise in its contemporary form is largely a quest for certain states of feeling. (pp. 8–9) The ‘feels’ experienced during working out are therefore not exclusively functional but are pleasurable, hedonistic, erotic and sometimes painful. Perhaps the most mythologised and transcendent pleasure craved for in the

Conceptualising gym bodies   29 gym has come to be known as ‘the pump’, the term famously used by legendary bodybuilder Arnold Schwarzenegger in the film Pumping Iron to denote the feeling when a muscle is engorged with blood as a result of repetitively lifting weights. As Andreasson and Johansson (2014: 80) reflect on their interaction with Maya, a female bodybuilding, the pump is a multi­-​ ­sensual, all­-​­consuming, deeply embodied pleasurable feeling: [Maya can] … almost hear/feel/see how the sensation, like electrical signals, crackles through her body while it pulsates and changes. She feels electrified. She describes an impression and a bodily sensation that she has learned to crave and enjoy in her workouts. She talks about the muscles that swell, become hard, thick, and feverish because of the blood flowing to the part of the body being exerted. She talks about some kind of extension or effect of the established contact, namely “the pump”. (p. 80) Given the potency of these excesses of energy and their immersive qualities, the pump has been described as ecstatic. As a form of ecstasy (literal meaning ‘ek stasis’ or standing outside of oneself), the pump witnesses the collapse of the self­-reflective ​­ capacity into animality, akin to what Bataille (2014) describes as the animal existence of ‘water in water’ and what Csikszentmihalyi (1990), using another liquid metaphor, calls the ‘flow experience’. As a form of ‘intense embodiment’ the pleasures of the pump transcend conscious thought as gym users move beyond counting ‘reps’, cognitive attendance to routinised programmes, and surveillance from others – and instead lose themselves outside of themselves. It is this physical transcendence that allows individuals to escape the stresses and pressures of everyday life and the social and cultural inscriptions placed upon them (Pronger, 1998; Heywood, 2012). The overwhelming senses of pleasure experienced alongside synonymous engorgement of muscle – likened to the swelling that takes place in the sexual organs during arousal – has resulted in the pump becoming eroticised and compared to feelings of orgasm. As Schwarzenegger articulates in Pumping Iron, the pump and its acute lasting effects provide feelings of “cumming day and night”. Gym bodies are therefore also orgasmic bodies who continually remember themselves from rep to rep and body part to body part with a reason for being in the gym to “come and come and come, to swell again and again” (Freuh, 2012: 226). Aching for the pump, Andreasson and Johansson (2014) illustrate how bodybuilders share their emotions and strategies for achieving the high, and often experience it together collectively as they work out next to and with each other. For them therefore, like sexual encounters, feelings of the pump are physically experienced, but how we make sense of them involves constant interaction between the body, social process and cultural context. In this regard, the

30  James Brighton et al. pump can be a deemed as a ‘body­ -reflexive ​­ pleasure’ as described by Wellard (2013) in which pleasurable experiences of sport are remembered and made sense of in particular social contexts that inform our relationship to the activities in which we engage, shaping future participation. The pleasures of the pump can only be experienced through the toil of lifting weight repetitively. Buying a ticket to pump city is both euphoric in response to strains and pains the body is placed under, and meritocratic, as the pleasure has been earned. Like BDSM (bondage, discipline, domination, submission, sadism, masochism) practices, gym practices destabilise hegemonic binary understandings of pain and pleasure as users distinguish between ‘good’ or ‘bad’, or ‘pleasant’ or ‘unpleasant’ pain. As Howe (2004) highlights, pain is a highly subjective social phenomenon dependent on cultural context and is better understood in non­-​­dualistic ways from within the ‘habitus’ or systems of lasting, durable, localised social dispositions (Bourdieu, 1977) in which it is experienced. In gym habitus ‘pain’ is often reconfigured from hegemonic cultural understandings. For example, powerlifters and bodybuilders are reported to punch each other in order to ‘psyche’ each other up and to feel a rush of adrenaline before lifting a weight (Fussell, 1992). As Klein (1993) identifies, what might be deemed extreme or painful under common sense understandings is reimagined amongst bodybuilders, instead providing the opiate through which feelings of excitement and exhilaration are channelled positively in lifting weight: On one occasion, I watched as Don was bench­-​­pressing 400 pounds. His cousin psyched him up by calling him a long string of nasty names. Failing to get the desired response, Phil popped his work boot against his cousin’s throat. The adrenaline rush that Don felt as he lay there gagging enabled him to get out another repetition. “Training in the fifth dimension,” they called it. Now it is known throughout the subculture as “heightened arousal mode”. (p. 73) For bodybuilders, powerlifters and CrossFitters, for example, pushing oneself to physical limits in training: vomiting, sustaining nose bleeds, experiencing DOMS (delayed onset of muscle soreness), and adhering to arduous calorie surplus or deficit diets, are all considered meritocratic performances of personal commitment and dedication required be known as a ‘legitimate’ with associated sensations attributed to as a ‘culture of pain’ (e.g. Klein, 1993; Bunsell, 2013; Herz, 2015). Whilst deemed unpleasant for many, these embodied experiences are often re­-articulated ​­ as pleasurable, shared and experienced communally. Amongst bodybuilders for example DOMS is an important corporeal marker of muscle rebuilding stronger and larger and is therefore enjoyed as it provides a measure of the effectiveness of previous workouts (Bunsell, 2013). According to Andreasson and Johansson (2014: 82) this ‘logic of pain’ is representative of exploring and

Conceptualising gym bodies   31 pushing the limits of one’s carnality and “a manifestation of a socially embodied structure that is nourished, discussed, and idealised during the time they [bodybuilders] spend together”. Experiences of pain and pleasure amongst gym users should therefore be seen as non­-​­binary, experienced corporeally and socially, and imbued with multiple cultural meanings. Sensuous scholarship, then, is an important part of an embodied approach taken in this book by emphasising the fleshy experiences of gym bodies. As Sparkes (2017a) suggests, acknowledgement of the senses in research enlightens interpretations of phenomena, moving beyond constructionist or symbolic analysis and (re)connecting with primal ways of knowing: … the structural, political, historically specific and socially situated nature of human embodiment and experience are revealed in rich and raw detail. All of which not only provides an important corrective to disembodied and distanced perspectives that conceptualise the moving body in physical culture settings as nothing but a signifying vehicle of cultural codes, but also calls on researchers in physical culture to re­-​ ­think, re­-​­feel, and re­-​­engage with the senses and the sensing body as a way of knowing, and a way of being, in the sporting, leisure and recreational activities that people engage with throughout their lives. (p. 16) In order to enter sensual dimensions of knowing, we incorporate sensuous forms of ethnography that locate our sentient bodies in the field during research (Chapter 4) and sensuous representations of how our biographies have been saturated in, and structured through, various gym cultures throughout the course of our lives.

Sensuous autoethnography According to Hockey (2019: 221), autoethnography provides an ethnographic perspective on the “researcher’s own personal, lived experience as a member of a (sub)cultural group, directly linking the micro level with the interactional and structural levels”. These approaches offer a shift from interactionism to focus their analysis on the ‘self’ and the ‘body’ through which meaning is revealed. In doing so, the dialectics of subjectivity and culture, body and self can be explored over time (Ellis & Bochner, 2000). Rather than be critiqued as tales of ‘self­-​­indulgence’, autoethnography is uniquely placed to use personal experience to evoke, provoke and problematise important cultural issues (Sparkes, 2017b). For Holman Jones, Adams and Ellis (2013), autoethnography is distinguished from other personal forms of writing by i) consciously critiquing cultural practice; ii) contributing to existing research; iii) purposely embracing vulnerability; and iv) developing a reciprocal relationship with the reader in order to

32  James Brighton et al. evoke a response. For example, important, or ‘epiphanal’ moments experienced in the life course of individuals (Denzin, 1989) can critique and provide counter narratives of culturally dominant storylines forcing us to think the ‘natural’ order of things. Autoethnography is becoming well established in sport and physical cultures (e.g. Owton  & Allen­-​­Collinson, 2014; Allen­-​­Collinson & Owton, 2015) but with a few notable exceptions (e.g. Heywood, 1998; Sparkes, 2010; Wellard, 2015) is largely absent in analysis of gym and fitness cultures. Within the discipline of autoethnography, a distinctive sub­ -​­ genre of sensuous autoethnography has emerged in recent times that specifically focuses on the sensory dynamics of study (e.g. Sparkes, 2009; Allen­ -​ ­Collinson  & Hockey, 2011). This approach encourages researchers to tell stories about themselves through and out of their bodies in all their sensuality. This is important, as Frank (1995) underlines, since the body is simultaneously cause, topic and instrument of any story told and so should figure centrally. Sensual autoethnography is therefore one way of grounding the carnality of lived, contextualised, individual storytelling providing cultural critique. To this end, whilst not claiming to present autoethnographies, we do present personal and sensual embodied vignettes detailing our lived experiences of inhabiting different bodies at different times in alternative gym spaces and fitness cultures. Along with our differing ‘gym stories’, we hope that taking this multi­ -​­ theoretical approach reduces the risk of providing universalising totalising narratives of gym experience. Whilst these theories are not exhaustive of those employed in our analyses, we hope attending to them ‘sets the scene’ to how we have attempted an embodied approach. Having provided a conceptual overview of gym bodies, our attentions now turn to providing a historical, social and cultural backdrop upon which gym bodies can be contextualised.

Note 1 We acknowledge here that in addition to the well established five senses, further senses exist such as nociception, proprioception and thermoperception (see Vannini, Waskul & Gottschalk, 2013).

References Allen­-​­Collinson, J. (2009) Sporting embodiment: Sports studies and the (continuing) promise of phenomenology. Qualitative Research in Sport, Exercise and Health, 1(3), 279–296. Allen­ -​­ Collinson, J. (2010) Running embodiment, power and vulnerability: Notes towards a feminist phenomenology of female running. In: E. Kennedy  & P. Markula (eds.), Women and Exercise: The Body, Health and Consumerism. London: Routledge, pp. 280–298. Allen­-​­Collinson, J. & Hockey, J. (2011) Feeling the way: Notes toward a haptic phenomenology of scuba diving and distance running. International Review for the Sociology of Sport, 46 (3), 330–345.

Conceptualising gym bodies   33 Allen­-​­Collinson, J. & Hockey, J. (2015) From a certain point of view: sensory phenomenological envisionings of running space and place. Journal of Contemporary Ethnography, 44 (1), 63–83. Allen­-​­Collinson, J. & Hockey, J. (2017) Intercorporeal enaction and synchrony: The case of distance­-​­running together. In: C. Meyer  & U. van Wedelstaedt (eds.), Moving Bodies in Interaction  – Interacting Bodies in Motion: Intercorporeality, Interkinesthesia, and enaction in sports. Amsterdam: John Benjamins Publishing, pp. 173–192. Allen­-​­Collinson, J. & Leledaki, A. (2015) Sensing the outdoors: A visual and haptic phenomenology of outdoor exercise embodiment. Leisure Studies, 34 (4), 457–470. Allen­-​­Collinson, J.  & Owton, H. (2015) Intense embodiment: Senses of heat in women’s running and boxing. Body and Society, 21 (2), 245–268. Andreasson, J.  & Johansson, T. (2014) The Global Gym: Gender, Health and Pedagogies. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Atkinson, M. (2017) Ethnoaesthesia: Ashtanga yoga and the sensuality of sweat. In: A.C. Sparkes (ed.), Seeking the Senses in Physical Culture: Sensuous Scholarship in Action. London & New York: Routledge. Bataille, G. (2014) Inner Experience. New York: State University of New York Press. Bourdieu, P. (1977) Outline of a Theory of Practice. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Bunsell, T. (2013) Strong and Hard Women: An Ethnography of Female Bodybuilding. London & New York: Routledge. Cherrington, J. (2014) “It’s just superstition I suppose … I’ve always done something on game day”: The construction of everyday life on a university basketball team. International Review for the Sociology of Sport, 49 (5), 509–525. Available at: https://doi.org/10.1177/1012690212461632 Cherrington, J. & Watson, B. (2010) Shooting a diary not just a hoop: Using video dairies to explore the embodied everyday contexts of a University basketball team. Qualitative Research in Sport, Exercise and Health, 2 (2), 267–281. Classen, C. (1993) Worlds of Sense: Exploring the Senses in History and Across Cultures. London & New York: Routledge. Connell (1995) Masculinities, 1st ed. Cambridge: Polity. Csikszentmihalyi, M. (1990) Flow: The Psychology of Optimal Experience. New York: Harper and Row. Curtis, B. (2008) “I can tell by the way you smell”: Dietetics, smell, social theory. The Senses and Society, 3 (1), 5–22. de Beauvoir, S. (1972) The Second Sex. Harmondsworth: Penguin Books. Denzin, N. (1989) Interpretive Biography. London: Sage. Dworkin, S.L. (2003) A woman’s place is in the … cardiovascular room? In: A. Bolin & J. Granskog (eds.), Athletic Intruders: Ethnographic Research on Women, Culture and Exercise. Albany: State University of New York Press. Ellis, V. & Bochner, A.P. (2000) Autoethnography, personal narrative, reflexivity. In: Denzin, N.K.  & Lincoln, Y.S. (eds.), Handbook of Qualitative Research, 2nd edn. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage, pp. 733–768. Falk, P. (1994) The Consuming Body. London: Sage. Frank, A. (1991) For a sociology of the body: An analytical review. In: M. Featherstone, M. Hepworth and B. Turner (eds.), The Body: Social Process and Cultural Theory. London: Sage. Frank, A.W. (1995) The Wounded Storyteller. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

34  James Brighton et al. Freuh, J. (2012) Monster/Beauty: Building the Body of Love. London: University of California Press. Fussell, S.W. (1992) Muscle: Confessions of an Unlikely Bodybuilder. New York: Poseidon Press. Giddens, A. (1984) The Constitution of Society: Outline of the Theory of Structuration. London: University of California Press. Giorgi, A.  & Giorgi, B. (2003) The descriptive phenomenological psychological method. In: Camic, P.M., Rhodes, J.E. and Yardley, L. (eds.), Qualitative Research in Psychology: Expanding Perspectives in Methodology and Design. Washington DC: American Psychological Association, pp. 243–273. Greif, M. (2017) Against Everything: On Dishonest Times. London  & New York: Verso Publishers. Herz, J.C. (2015) Learning to Breathe Fire: The Rise of CrossFit and the Primal Future of Fitness. New York: Three Rivers Press. Heywood, L. (1998) Bodymakers: a Cultural Anatomy of Women’s Bodybuilding. London: Rutgers University Press. Heywood, L. (2012) Building otherwise: Bodybuilding as immersive practice. In: Locks, A. & Richardson, N. (eds.), Critical Readings in Bodybuilding. New York & London: Routledge, pp. 122–140. Highmore, B. (2002) Introduction: Questioning everyday life. In: Highmore, B. (ed.), The Everyday Life Reader. London: Routledge, pp. 1–37. Hockey, J. (2006) Sensing the run: The senses and distance running. The Senses and Society, 1 (2), 183–201. Hockey, J. (2013) Knowing the “going”: The sensory evaluation of distance running. Qualitative Research in Sport, Exercise and Health, 5 (1), 127–141. Hockey, J. (2019) Everyday routines as transformative processes: A sporting case. Sociological Research Online, 24 (2), 219–234. Hockey, J.  & Allen­-​­Collinson, J. (2006) Seeing the way: Visual sociology and the distance runner’s perspective. Visual Studies, Journal of the International Visual Sociology Association, 21 (1), 70–81. Hockey, J.  & Allen­ -​­ Collinson, J. (2007) Grasping the phenomenology of the sporting body. International Review for the Sociology of Sport, 42 (2), 115–131. Hockey, J. & Allen­-​­Collinson, J. (2009) The sensorium at work: The sensory phenomenology of the working body. The Sociological Review, 57 (2), 217–239. Holman Jones, S.L., Adams, T.E.  & Ellis, C. (2013) Handbook of Autoethnography. Left Coast Press. Howe, D. (2004) Sport, Professionalism and Pain: Ethnographies of Injury and Risk. London: Routledge. Howes, D. (2003) Sensual Relations: Engaging the Senses in Culture and Social Theory. Michigan: University of Michigan Press. Howes, D. (ed.) (2005) Empire of the Senses. London: Berg. Howes, D. & Classen, C. (2014) Ways of Sensing: Understanding the Senses in Society. Abingdon: Routledge. Kerr, G., Stirling, A., Heron, A., MacPherson, E. & Banwell, J. (2015) The importance of touch in sport: Athletes’ and coaches’ reflections. International Journal of Social Science Studies, 3 (4), 56–68. Inckle, K. (2010) Telling tales? Using ethnographic fictions to speak embodied “truth”. Qualitative Research, 10 (1), 27–47.

Conceptualising gym bodies   35 Klein, A. (1993) Little Big Men: Bodybuilding Subculture and Gender Construction. New York: State University of New York Press. Leder, D. (1990) The Absent Body. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. McNarry, G., Allen­-​­Collinson, J., & Evans, A.B. (2018) Reflexivity and bracketing in sociological phenomenological research: researching the competitive swimming lifeworld. Qualitative Research in Sport, Exercise and Health, 8 (3), 1–14. McTavish, L. (2015) Feminist Figure Girl. Albany: SUNY Press. Mellor, P.  & Shilling, C. (1997) Re­-​­Forming the Body: Religion, Community  & Modernity. London: Sage Publications. Merleau­-​­Ponty, M. (1962) Phenomenology of Perception. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul. Monaghan, L. (2001) Bodybuilding, Drugs and Risk. London: Routledge. Owton, H.  & Allen­ -​­ Collinson, J. (2014) Conformers, contesters, and creators: vignettes of asthma identities and sporting embodiment. International Review for the Sociology of Sport, 51 (6), 699–714. Available at: https://doi.org/10.1177/​10126​ 90214548494 Petersen, A. (2007) The Body in Question: A Socio­ -​­ cultural Approach. London: Routledge. Pronger, B. (1998) Post­-​­sport: Transgressing boundaries in physical culture. In: Rail, G. (ed.), Sport and Postmodern Times. Albany: State University of New York Press, pp. 277–298. Pumping Iron (1977) [Film] George Butler  & Robert Fiore dirs. Los Angeles, USA & South Africa. White Mountain Films. Sassatelli, R. (2010) Fitness Culture: Gyms and the Commercialisation of Discipline and Fun. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Shilling, C. (1993) The Body and Social Theory: 1st edn. London: Sage Publications. Sinclair, A. (2005) Body and management pedagogy. Gender, Work and Organization, 12 (1), 89–104. Sokolowski, R. (2000) Introduction to Phenomenology. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Sparkes, A.C. (2009) Ethnography and the senses: challenges and possibilities. Qualitative Research in Sport, Exercise and Health 1 (1), 21–35. Sparkes, A.C. (2010) Myth 94: Qualitative health researchers will agree about validity. In: Bryman, A. (ed.), Qualitative Research 2 (Part of the SAGE Benchmark in Social Research Methods Series). London: Sage. Sparkes, A.C. (2017a) Seeking the Senses in Physical Culture: Sensuous Scholarship in Action. London & New York: Routledge. Sparkes, A.C. (2017b) Autoethnography comes of age: Consequences, comforts, and concerns. In: Beach, D., Bagley, C.  & da Silva, S.M. (eds.), Handbook of Ethnography of Education. London: Wiley. Spencer, D. (2012) Ultimate Fighting and Embodiment: Violence, Gender and Mixed Martial Arts. London & New York: Routledge. Stoller, P. (1989) The Taste of Ethnographic Things. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. Stoller, P. (1997) Sensuous Scholarship. Philadelphia, PA: University of Pennsylvania Press. Synnott, A. (1991) A sociology of smell. Canadian Review of Sociology, 28 (4), 437–459. Turner, B. (1989) The Body and Society: Explorations in Social Theory. Oxford: Blackwell.

36  James Brighton et al. Vannini, P. Waskul, D.  & Gottschalk, S. (2013) The Senses in Self, Society and Culture: A Sociology of the Senses. New York and London: Routledge. Wellard I. (2013) Sport, Fun and Enjoyment: An Embodied Approach. London: Routledge. Wellard, I. (2015) Researching Embodied Sport: Exploring Movement Cultures. London: Routledge. Wellard, I. (2018) Whose Body is it Anyway? A Sociological Reflection upon Fitness and Wellbeing. Abingdon, Oxon: Routledge. Williams, S.J. & Bendelow, G. (1998) The Lived Body: Sociological Themes, Embodied Issues. London: Routledge. Young, I.M. (1980) Throwing like a girl: A phenomenology of feminine body comportment motility and spatiality. Human Studies, 3 (2), 137–156. Young, I.M. (2005) On Female Body Experience: “Throwing Like a Girl and Other Essays”. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

3 A history of gyms and the evolvement of contemporary fitness James Brighton, Ian Wellard and Amy Clark We have always worked upon our bodies in different ways using specialised exercise facilities. However, cultural body work has intensified for many people, with gyms providing one customised solution to achieve these ends. Within this chapter, we trace the evolvement of gyms and how their shifts in focus are intimately tied to current notions of health, fitness and bodily perfectionism. In doing so, we acknowledge the rise and diversification of gyms and lifestyles in contemporary Western cultures, providing the context for our investigations into different gym spaces and gym practices in Chapters 5–8.

A history of modern fitness The original function of the gym was militaristic, to create citizens and soldiers ‘fit’ for the purpose of protecting national sovereignty (Chaline, 2015).1 Alternatively, for the ancient Greeks, gyms were incorporated more virtuously in the pursuit of arete, the attainment of an individual’s full physical, moral, social and intellectual potential (Reid & Holowchak, 2011). Within the Renaissance period, as demonstrated by Da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man, forms of exercise centred on contributing to physical beauty and symmetry as signifiers are the embodiment of purity, virtue and morality (Synnott, 1993). Subsequently, the rise of imperialism in Western Europe in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries increased the importance once again of the fit and healthy body as a reflection of a nation’s power, military preparedness, and promotion of ‘muscular Christianity’ re­-​­establishing the gym’s utilitarian function (Whitson, 1990). By the middle of the twentieth century, however, with the symbolic importance of muscularity and its association with hegemonic forms of masculinity and changing consumer trends in post­-​ ­industrialist society, gyms diversified more aggressively. In his book The Temple of Perfection, Chaline (2015) earnestly documents the emergence and development of gyms and ideologies of physical fitness throughout time. He outlines how the first gymnasia date back to the sixth century BC in which they existed in many Greek cities. As with gyms today, classical gymnasia did not follow a particular plan. They shared a number of

38  James Brighton et al. basic facilities. However, the size and layout were affected by the date of their construction, the wealth of the city, the geography of the site, and the availability of space and proximity of nearby buildings. One of the major differences between a classical and modern gymnasium was the lack of permanent equipment on display. Most of the training was performed either without equipment, or with small pieces of portable equipment, such as the javelin and discus. Other activities included practising in the ‘Turnplatz’ consisting of ropes, yokes, pegs, strings and skipping ropes and poles for vaulting, lances and balls, saddle cushions, and dumbbells and weights. It also included a circular running track, to leap, throw, skip, wrestle and complete warm­-up ​­ exercises and gymnastic games. As Chaline further deciphers, the first commercial gymnasia were opened in Brussels and Paris by Hippolyte Triat (1813–1881) and Eugen Sandow (1867–1925) respectively. Triat developed the first set of graduated metal dumbbells and barbells, and concentrated on what is now known as ‘group exercise classes’ in his gymnastique de planches (floor gymnastics) which are among the oldest forms of gym­-​­based exercise. By the 1860s there were 20 commercial gymnasia in Paris, including several women­ -only ​­ establishments. The nineteenth century gym still looked very different from the modern gym, with most gymnasia still essentially remaining as indoor versions of the Turnplatz. Although they were furnished with barbells and dumbbells, it closely resembled a large exercise studio or a performance space where exercisers took part in synchronised gymnastic displays. The nineteenth and early twentieth century gymnasium remained a short­-​­lived fad that quickly became outdated by other health and fitness pursuits, such as outdoor sports, group callisthenics and naturism. Alternatively, as discussed by Liokaftos (2017), the ‘early period’ of organised bodybuilding culture emerged in the 1880s–1930s, taking place in what were termed ‘institutes’, ‘colleges’ or ‘schools’ of physical culture. Within these educational spaces, the blueprint for the perfected body was provided by works of classical art that offered timeless aesthetic standards of an unsurpassable natural order and form for shaping and displaying the male body. As Liokaftos continues, early (male) bodybuilding associated itself with a discourse and fields of practice that had been become culturally legitimate and ‘respectable’ by the end of the nineteenth century (Foucault, 1978), promoting methods and displays of physical culture as scientific products of the expert knowledge they were assembling and practising. Authors of key publications were labelled ‘teachers’ or ‘professors’ of physical culture and a vision of the ‘body as machine’ was adopted, discursively constructed through medico­-​­scientific discourses which produce the body as a knowable, and thereby controllable, entity, regulated by the experts that authoritatively represent this knowledge. These classical roots of bodybuilding were replaced in the ‘middle period’ (1940s–1970s) which represented a shift towards a celebration of muscle for muscle’s sake and perceptions that big is good but bigger is

A history of gyms and fitness   39 better. Liokaftos (2017: 91) argues here that there was movement from a post­-​­war model of ideal manhood and amateur competition to one of pure bodybuilding that embraced “professional competition, performance specialisation, and a technologically enabled aesthetic of unlimited growth whereby perfection is imagined no longer as a return to a set, objective ideal but as an open­-​­ended project”. During this time, ‘spit and sawdust’ gyms (re)emerged from the working class boxing gyms of the 1930s (Wacquant, 2006). These were “low­-​­rent, bare­-​­bones, smoke­-​­and­-​­sweat­-​ ­saturated hangout for boxers and bodybuilders” such as Gold’s Gym which appeared in the mid­-​­1960s (Luciano, 2001: 88–89), constructed with aspirations to accomplish and arouse the desire of men to achieve aesthetic development, to keep fit, improve themselves and have fun by enhancing their muscularity (Sassatelli, 2010). In more contemporary times, Smith Maguire (2007) highlights how privately run gyms commercialised health, leisure and lifestyle choice. As consumers, gym goers were required to shape and perform with their bodies in relation to given socially and culturally valued consumer trends. Specifically, she discusses how three particular commodities have shaped the fitness industry. First, in the 1970s, a new kind of exercise site emerged, the commercial ‘health club’ which combined old forms of exercise equipment into a service orientated leisure and lifestyle business. More luxurious than ‘spit and sawdust’ gyms, these spaces provided for a more middle­-​­class and female clientele2 (Crossley, 2006). Second, in the 1980s and 1990s, as the health club industry expanded and consolidated, fitness was represented through the growing genre of lifestyle media. In addition to exercise manuals, consumers could turn to fitness magazines to advise them on the latest tips and techniques of the fitness lifestyle. Third, in the 1990s, a new kind of fitness service emerged in commercial health clubs – personal training. Available to the affluent middle classes, personal trainers are groups of service professionals, providing exercise expertise in one­-​­on­-​­one sessions with clients. Around the same time, with political activist Jane Fonda as its spearhead, there was the aerobics revolution which brought millions of women into gyms in the 1980s (Chaline, 2015), further distinguishing the ‘modern gym’ as distinct from boxing and spit and sawdust gyms and changing the space and social relations of contemporary gyms in ways that reflected the changes in attitudes towards the body (Bolitho & Conway, 2014). As Millington (2016) highlights, these movements in fitness, chara­ cterised by increasingly available facilities, equipment, clothing and media and the pursuit of a ‘fit’ lifestyle as a personal responsibility, constituted what has become known as ‘the first boom’ of fitness. Once sedentary individuals were now participating in simple and regulated forms of exercise in customised settings. Resultantly, contemporary fitness facilities, including the range of large chains that proliferate today, started springing up in the 1990s alongside the emergence of the fully­-​­fledged

40  James Brighton et al. Western individual, whose civil rights were guaranteed by a democratic state. Increasingly, under neoliberal economic agendas in which individual responsibility for one’s own condition is paramount, fitness and health became commodities sold under a free market choice. As demonstrated by Wiest, Andrews and Giardina (2015), health, fitness and appearance are here often conflated: … health and healthiness are evermore entangled with discourses surrounding (and glorifying) fitness, as well as the growing acceptance (and, in fact, commercializing) of corporeal practices required to achieve this condition  – if we can indeed speak of fitness as a condition to be achieved. Put differently, in the current moment … we cannot investi­ gate such a shift (i.e., the responsibilization of health, conceivably, from a right to a duty) without examining the socialized and medicalized implications of what it means to be and look fit. (p. 22) Consequently, discourses within gyms that promote the value of exercise as positive for health are tangibly associated with virtuous personal qualities. As Skrabanek (1994) highlights, being healthy is connected with purity, patriotism, morality and autonomy, whereas being unhealthy is deemed as polluted and foreign. Under these conceptualisations, health is used as a legitimate marker of difference, segregation and control. For him, the term healthism can be understood when the pursuit of health is “no longer a personal yearning but part of state ideology” (p. 15) in which the government uses various forms of propaganda and coercion to validate the norms through which a ‘‘healthy lifestyle’’ should be cultivated. Resultantly, the activities we engage in are subject to binary divisions of “approved and disapproved, healthy and unhealthy, prescribed and proscribed, responsible and irresponsible” (p. 15). Gyms are therefore sites at which the virtuous qualities of health can be practised and a moral, desirable and ‘healthy lifestyle’ established and performed. Accordingly, gyms are also becoming important institutions in the prescription of ‘exercise as medicine’ (e.g.  Cairney, McGannon  & Atkinson, 2018) as evidenced through links with General Practitioner (GP) referral schemes (e.g. Henderson et al., 2018) and the wide promotion of the therapeutic (e.g. Nicholls et al., 2018) and psychological (e.g. Edwards, 2002) benefits of participation on overall wellbeing. With increasing individual responsibility comes increasing choice. The fitness industry has aggressively variegated in recent times with a growth in low cost gyms, specialist strength and conditioning gyms aimed at enhancing sports performance, powerlifting gyms, ultra­-​­exclusive boutique gyms such as Soul Cycle, CrossFit ‘boxes’, yoga and Pilates studios and spaces for private personal training entering the market. Increasing choice has, for some, been accompanied by more extreme gym practices and a focus on

A history of gyms and fitness   41 contemporary forms of bodily perfectionism as society has become more aggressively aestheticised (Featherstone, 2010). These trends can be reflected by bodybuilding’s ‘late period’ (1980s–present) which, as Liokaftos (2017) suggests, is fuelled by a paradigm of elite sport performance, a breaking of physical boundaries, redefinitions of what is considered possible in terms of muscular development and the production and celebration of a contemporary, hardcore, freaky body. Movement towards extreme physical practices has also been characterised by, for example, the upsurge in CrossFit (Nash, 2018), high intensity interval training (HIIT) (e.g. Jiménez­-​ ­Pavón  & Lavie, 2017), ultra­-distance ​­ events and a return to primordialism and survivalism. Furthermore, as Millington (2016: 1185) discusses, there has been a proliferation of technologies for measuring the body and fitness activities. For him, this points towards a ‘second boom’ in fitness which is characterised by: i) socio­-​­technical networks in which humans and non­-​ ­humans are entangled; ii) an emphasis on the interaction between human and technology; iii) data­-​­intensiveness; iv) the customisation of fitness in the interest of ‘optimisation’; v) individual participation in wider online communities; and vi) the inclusion of ‘new’ and ‘old’ forms of commodification. Resultantly, gym users engage in processes of ‘prosumption’ in which consumers are both producers and consumers of fitness and are increasingly responsible for the surveillance over one another’s ‘fit’ bodies. Given the mapping of the evolvement of gyms above, it is clear that any study of the gym must also consider the meaning of fitness under specific historical and cultural conditions. Accordingly, as Chaline (2015: 7–8) evokes, the history of the gym “is also a history of the human body: its real and idealised forms, artistic representation, shaping and public and private presentation”. Contemporary understandings of fitness, motivations for gym usage and notions of bodily perfectionism are therefore discussed below.

Contemporary gyms and constructing the ‘fit’ body More people than ever are using gyms in their various forms. According to the 2018 State of the United Kingdom (UK) Fitness Industry Report the number of people in the UK who are members at ‘gyms’ exceeded 9.9  million people. That’s equal to one in every sixth person or 16% of the population. In economic terms, this represents a market value of over £4.9  billion spread over 7,038 gyms in the UK. This is reinforced by findings of the 2018 Active Lives Survey conducted by Sport England that measures the activity levels of people across England, indicating that fitness activities are increasing year on year. Along with growth in specialist nutrition, supplements, clothing and equipment, fitness is now a major global business and lifestyle choice (Andreasson  & Johansson, 2014a; 2014b). Indeed, ‘going to the gym’ has become so engrained in our embodied daily routines that society is deemed to operate in binaries of

42  James Brighton et al. gym user and non­-​­gym user. The reasons proposed for this steady and continuous growth in participation are diverse and include an increasing emphasis on developing fitness and health, social and mental wellbeing, and, increasingly, pressures to sculpt perfected forms of embodiment. Empirical sociological research into gym practices helps to reveal individual motivations into using gyms within these broader social, cultural and political conditions. Rationales for engaging in bodybuilding, for example, have included responses to ontological (Klein, 1993), class (Wacquant, 1995; 2006) and gender (Faludi, 1999) insecurities, the desire to develop valued forms of physical capital in consumer culture (Featherstone, 2010) and self­-​ transformation (Fussell, 1992). The most common motivation for body­ ­ building amongst men is a response to ‘masculinity in crisis’, where gaining muscle is seen as an enfleshment of hegemonic masculinity (Fussell, 1992; Monaghan, 1999). As Klein (1993) highlights: In particular the erosion of men’s traditionally occupationally derived privileges in a post­-​­industrial order prompts some to compensate for their feelings of powerlessness by embodying the physical trappings of “hegemonic masculinity”. Accordingly, “the muscular body” becomes synonymous with the culturally idealised masculine/powerful self/self­-​ ­assured body. (p. 242) Alternatively, in her ethnographic study of female bodybuilders, Bunsell (2013) investigates reasons for women engaging in resistance training which included rehabilitation from injury; offering salvation from alcohol and drug addiction; recovering from anorexia; dealing with destructive familial and personal relationships; provision of structure and routine; and for therapeutic benefit. Thus many female bodybuilders indicated that taking control back of their bodies in various ways was the catalyst to using gyms. These explorations offer nuanced insights into the motivations for beginning and maintaining specific forms of gym routines and how weight training, bodyshaping and definition training more generally is on the rise (Richardson & Locks, 2012). This popularisation and intensification of cultural body work, it could be argued, has arisen in response to the increasing emphasis on bodily perfectionism in contemporary consumerist culture. The body, long established as the prime symbol of the self (Synnott, 1993), is increasingly seen as the object of consumption to be worked at as part of an individual’s self­-​ reflexive project in the affluent West (Giddens, 1991; Shilling, 1993). ­ According to Shilling (2003), bodies are conceptualised as malleable objects, their appearance, size, shape, comportment and constitution open to (re)construction and modification in line with the desires of their ‘owners’. Honed through vigilance and hard work, the body reflects an individual’s identity and their personal and moral choices. As Fussell (1994) articulates, body projects allow individuals to “make strong, public and personal

A history of gyms and fitness   43 statements about who and what they are within a multitude of social contexts” and are increasingly associated with, and symbolic of, our attractive­ ness, successfulness and virility (Bauman, 1990). Contemporary body projects are influenced by ocularcentric and superficial cultures relentlessly promoting the body beautiful. On a daily basis we are aggressively presented with images of perfectly formed models, celebrities, athletes and film and television stars to aspire to (Grogan, 2008; Dworkin  & Wachs, 2009; Orbach, 2010). Social media platforms such as Instagram, Snapchat, Facebook and Twitter are saturated with visions of individuals with finely tuned bodies preaching how we can all obtain ideals of body perfectionism as long as we are willing to put the work in; “Don’t wish for it, work for it”, we are told. According to Bourdieu (1991), developing a body that relates well amongst contemporary ideologies of physical perfectionism imbues the owner with ‘physical capital’ which in turn can be transferred into ‘cultural’ and ‘economic’ capital enhancing one’s status and distinction in a given ‘social field’. Amongst contemporary aesthetic social and cultural relations, sculpted bodies are used as units of currency in building physical capital as individuals become social media ‘models’, ‘fitness influencers’ or reality TV stars. Notions of perfectionism are distinctly gendered, raced, classed, aged and able­-​­bodied. In relation to hegemonic gender configurations, for example, for men, current bodily ideals are best understood as ‘muscularity in moderation’. Muscle size, definition and low levels of body fat are primary signifiers of health, independence, athleticism, and success but only within given parameters of normalcy. As Dworkin and Wachs (2009) establish in their analysis of male models on the cover of men’s health and fitness magazines: Usually he is white, has a “healthy” tan, and his vascular, cut form implies the successful engagement in and cumulative repetition of a variety of bodily practices. Bulging biceps, defined broad shoulders with rippling striations, cut six­-​­or eight­-pack ​­ abs, and wide pumped chests merge into a singular ideal. (p. 1) For Simpson (2014), this twenty­-​­first century version of male physicality is best termed as a ‘spornosexual’ who, “buffed, ripped, groomed, and selfie­-​ ­adoring” is a gym­-​­built, narcissistic, hyper­-​­sexual male whose physique is central in self­-​­definition and unashamedly used as a commodity: With their painstakingly pumped and chiselled bodies, muscle­ -​ ­enhancing tattoos, piercings, adorable beards and plunging necklines it’s eye­-​­catchingly clear that second­-​­generation metrosexuality is less about clothes than it was for the first. Eagerly self­ -​­ objectifying, second­ -​ ­generation metrosexuality is totally tarty. Their own bodies (more than

44  James Brighton et al. clobber and product) have become the ultimate accessories, fashioning them at the gym into a hot commodity  – one that they share and compare in an online marketplace. This new wave puts the “sexual” into metrosexuality. In fact, a new term is needed to describe them, these pumped­-​­up offspring of those Ronaldo and Beckham lunch­-box ​­ ads, where sport got into bed with porn while Mr Armani took pictures. Let’s call them “spornosexuals” (italics in original). (online)

As Greif (2017: 10) discerns, “The body itself becomes the location of sexiness, rather than clothes or wit or charisma”. With increased importance placed on the body, deviations from these ideals are seen as failing to embody the ideal male physique, risking one’s attractiveness and worth. Equally, although valorised in the bodybuilding habitus, being too muscled is deemed as being ‘freakish’ through the transgression of physiological norms (Fussell, 1992; Klein, 1993; Monaghan, 2001; Sparkes, Brighton  & Inckle, 2017). Alternatively, for women, the ‘perfect’ body is policed by patriarchal ideology. Feminist scholars have addressed how women’s perceptions of their bodies and what is deemed attractive or imperfect are often informed by the ‘male gaze’ for the purposes of gaining pleasure (Mulvey, 1975). Consequently, current feminine ideals are being slender, toned, petite and sexy, as Dworkin and Wachs (2009) establish in representations of women in health and fitness magazines: She is “perky” and inviting with a coy smile, she leans, lilts or languishes, displays a lean, tight, compact body beneath monochromatic smooth skin, in tight, revealing clothing. Frequently she wears a bikini. Also usually white, she is tight and toned, but lacks visible rips or cuts. Her muscles are long and lean, and certainly not “too big”, while her body possesses a subtle dose of curvaceousness. (p. 1) Several feminist researchers have demonstrated that a ‘perfect body’ is closely connected to fitness and ideal femininity, such as body shape emphasising thinness and tightly toned muscle (e.g. Bordo, 1993; Markula, 1995, 2001a; 2003; Krane et al., 2001; Krane et al., 2004). As Markula (2001b: 237) highlights, in participating in fitness activities, women are presented with the task of managing a host of contradictory ideological continuums which dictates the female body should be “firm but shapely, fit but sexy, strong but thin”. This negotiation is made more problematic as women have historically been more defined by their bodies, and as a result, objectified in a number of ways. For example, female athletes are often infantilised or sexualised based on their physical appearance regardless of their sporting accomplishments

A history of gyms and fitness   45 (Hargreaves, 1994). This has contributed to girls and women choosing to participate in non­-​­competitive, ‘cosmetic’ forms of fitness which prioritise appearance and fashion, so enabling the development of physical attractiveness (Coakley  & Pike, 2009). Furthermore, women are also required to perform a strict range of bodily gestures, postures and movements that emphasises grace and a “certain eroticism restrained by modesty” (Bartky, 1988: 68). Gendered exercises are often promoted as a means to perform and achieve the feminine ideal, and bodies being deemed flawed and subject to stigmatisation and derision when falling outside of the accepted boundaries of ‘femininity’ (McGannon, Johnson & Spence, 2011). The narrowing ideals of bodily perfectionism described above have become so engrained in Western society that the term “body fascism” has arisen in popular culture to express the oppressiveness and pressures inherent in constructing an ideal body (Hughes, 1999: 155). These strict bodily boundaries limit how the body may be imagined and experienced at the expense of alternative expressions of embodiment. According to Pronger (2002) the ubiquity of the fit, slender, muscular body creates a ‘panoptic effect’ as individuals watch over themselves for any deviations from these norms. Non­-​­normative or less valued bodies such as ‘old’, ‘fat’, ‘disabled’, ‘short’, ‘tall’ bodies or bodies that transgress accepted norms (e.g. female bodybuilders who transgress traditional ideals of femininity) are therefore oppressed or excluded altogether. Indeed, as Hughes (1999) points out, some bodies, for example the disabled body, are placed as a binary opposite to fascist ideologies of body perfectionism, and used for the very construction of the ‘perfect’ body.

Gyms as sites for corporeal self­-​­transformation Gyms offer a simple, accessible and customised solution for individuals to work towards realising their idealised bodies. Once a realm of fantasy for the privileged few, the gym makes the physiques endowed by athletes, movie stars, action heroes and social media icons achievable by the masses with hard work and discipline. Through offering a range of physical practices, knowledge and ‘expertise’, gyms are promoted as social spaces where individuals can transform body–self identities as ‘reinventive institutions’ (Dawson, 2017). As Fussell (1994: 57) summarises, the “muscular body, the picture of eternal adolescence” is the dream and the gym is the “nightly launching pad”. Through the reproduction of manual physical labour, the fit, strong, powerful, functional, independent, virile, desirable body is crafted as symbolical of transforming the self. The gym has once again, therefore, become a quasi­ -​­ religious space, a temple dedicated to perfectibility of the body and personal identity, where members follow and attain their individual arete. The ‘freedom’ which individuals are really afforded in these practices is however subject to debate. For Foucault (1981), there is less choice of what

46  James Brighton et al. we do with our bodies than we are conscious of as we are placed under multiple cultural confines of perfectionism and normalcy. Engaging in a gym body project is therefore not exclusively an expression of individual agency, but is policed through the adherence and docility to dominant cultural discourses. As Bourdieu (1990: 63) asserts, there is a causal relationship between the social and the corporeal, and so accordingly we must see “society written into the body, into the biological individual” and vice versa. Consequently, as disciplinary dupes to dominant discourses of fitness, bodies become cloned versions of one another. This is established by Monaghan (2001) amongst bodybuilders whose motives for trans­ mogrifying the body are not pre­-​­envisioned, but emerge during submer­ gence in bodybuilding subcultures over time. Monaghan reveals how bodybuilders learn a sense of what Bourdieu (1991) terms ‘pictorial competence’ through habit and exercise in making particular choices on what types of body are meaningful inside and outside bodybuilding ‘habitus’. Thus, it is the habitus that structures choice and preference, not the individual actor. The increasing consciousness of the body and perceived inability to embody ideals of perfectionism has also been linked with self­-​­dissatisfaction, anxiety, depression and negative wellbeing (Grogan, 2008) and identified as a contributory factor to compulsory and obsessive behavioural ‘disorders’ such as anorexia nervosa, bulimia nervosa, body dysmorphia, and most recently the so­-​­called phenomena of ‘bigorexia’ (e.g. Mosely, 2009; Ahmad, Rotherham  & Talwar, 2015) and ‘megarexia’ (Monaghan  & Atkinson, 2014). The terms athletica­-​­nervosa (Matejek et al., 1999), anorexia athletica (Herbrich et al., 2011) or hypergymnasia have also arisen in popular culture to denote excessive exercise addiction as an attempt to control bodily weight and sports performance. Rather than being essentialised and medicalised as individual conditions, these phenomena can better be seen as corporeal evidence of entering the gym habitus and an aggressive need for muscular hypertrophy or making ‘gains’. As Mazzetti (2016: 14) highlights, “You will never be the same again, because the day you started lifting is the day you became forever small”. This might help explain why people are taking more risks to achieve ‘perfect’ bodies including ingesting supplements and dietary pharmaceuticals (Atkinson, 2007) and taking image and performance enhancing (IPED) drugs (Monaghan, 2001). According to the National Image and Performance Enhancing Drugs Information Survey 2017 (Begley, McVeigh & Hope, 2017) for example, up to 1 million people in the UK are taking anabolic steroids and IPEDs with aesthetic improvement rather than sporting performance indicated as the main reason for their use. Embarking on body–self transformation amongst socially and culturally constructed visions of perfectionism is therefore clearly problematic and potentially risky. As Shilling (2003) reminds us, bodies are always doomed to fail anyway as they inevitably age and decay, become sick and injured, and are not malleable in the ways that we desire. Furthermore as the end

A history of gyms and fitness   47 product of our ‘projects’, the ‘perfect’ body, remains elusive, feelings of inadequacy and incompleteness perpetuate regardless of how much corporeal work is undertaken. For Monaghan (2001) one way of overcoming this never­ -​­ ending pursuit is to develop ‘variable body projects’ which emphasise the importance of recognising multiple forms of perfectionism for long term engagement and fulfilment in gym work.3 In order to legitimately claim to develop self­-​­reflexion, variable body projects must be agentic in the face of the gym habitus and broader discourses of fitness and health and shape our own versions of the ideal. The gym may provide a seductive solution to transform the body and self therefore, yet our engagement with it simultaneously exposes us to its control. This is perhaps one reason that explains the growth of the ‘anti­-​ ­fitness’ movement in which rather than surrender to accepted discourses of health, fitness and the body, individuals challenge and resist their coercion. Greif (2017) for example discusses that whilst health, exercise and food have become central preoccupations of our time, going to the gym and engaging in fitness for fitness’ sake threatens our freedom  – ruining the point of living. According to him we have become increasingly concerned with preserving the “living corpse in an optimal state” (2017: 3) not so we may be functional with our bodies, but for the feeling of optimisation itself. As specialised spaces for the reproduction of manual labour redundant in post­-​ ­industrialist society, gyms are disciplinary institutions that remove us from our liberty as the body endures work driven by contemporary discourses of health and fitness: Modern exercise makes you acknowledge the machine operating inside yourself. Nothing can make you believe we harbor nostalgia for factory work but a modern gym. The lever of the die press no longer commands us at work. But with the gym we import vestiges of the leftover equipment of industry into our leisure. We leave the office, and put the conveyor belt under our feet, and run as if chased by devils. We willingly submit our legs to the mangle, and put our stiffening arms to the press. It is crucial that the machines are simple. The inclined planes, pins, levers, pulleys, locks, winches, racks, and belts of the Nautilus and aerobic machines put earlier stages of technical progress at our disposal in miniature. The elements are visible and intelligible for our use but not dangerous to us. Displaced, neutralized, they are traces of a necessity which no longer need be met with forethought or ingenuity. A farmer once used a pulley, cable, and bar to lift his roofbeam; you now use the same means to work your lats. (Greif, 2017, p. 3) As Greif elucidates, exercise in gyms is dominated by numbers, breeding a ‘quantified self’ (Till, 2014; Hoy, 2016) in which measuring, counting and testing are the central means through which one’s capabilities are

48  James Brighton et al. represented. By demonstrating willpower and discipline in committing to exercise, individuals therefore buy into the narrative of continual linear self­-​ ­improvement (Becker, 1997), or as Greif (2017: 7) puts it, “You discover what high numbers you can become, and how immortal. For you, high roller, will live forever. You are eternally maintained.” Similarly, to being ‘against exercise’, in their book, The Wellness Syndrome, Cederstrom and Spicer (2015) argue how the omnipresent pressure to optimise ‘wellness’ has in fact had the converse effect, making us feel inadequate, restrained and withdrawn. Through various moral rationalisations for engaging in excessive exercise and restricted diets, feeling good has become indistinguishable from being good. Under these understandings, gyms are disciplinary and ascetic spaces in which individuals sacrifice the pleasure gained from other areas of their lives. Having ‘set the scene’ of contemporary fitness in this chapter, we now address how we explored gym bodies through outlining the methodologies employed.

Notes 1 Chaline (2015) highlights how the first gyms appeared in many ancient Greek cities dating back to the sixth century bce. The ancient Greeks were known for training and competing naked (Greek: gymnos). Male nudity and exercise were so closely linked that the Greek verb ‘to exercise’, gymnazein, translates literally as ‘to exercise’. The word ‘gymnasium’ derives from the word ‘gymnasion’, which can be abbreviated as ‘gym’ which became known as a ‘place where athletic exercises are performed naked’ (Chaline, 2015: 24). 2 Stern (2008) highlights that one in three female gym goers indicated they favoured same­-​­sex workout sites. In response, women­-​­only clubs emerged in the 1960s, with many owners of fitness clubs noting that this attributed towards the goals of mainly older and married women. Consequently over five hundred Gold’s Gym franchises established women­-​­only areas due to the demand for privacy. 3 Having outlined this, previous research into ‘body projects’ has been critiqued due to assumptions of able­-​­bodiedness (Thomas, 2007), a failure to take into account the influence of dominant discourses (Gill, Henwood & McClean, 2005), and not adequately acknowledging corporeal (Sweetman, 2012) or psychological (Lemma, 2010) dimensions of experience.

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4 Embodied methodological considerations James Brighton

In this chapter, methodological acknowledgement of the processes through which we came to know our own and others’ gym bodies is provided. Whilst we do not present a comprehensive overview, we aim to outline the key considerations taken in developing an embodied methodological approach. Importantly in interpretative research, as gym bodies and qualitative researchers, we reveal our positionality and reflexive standpoints through empirical reflections from our relations in the field.

Collecting embodied data on gym bodies Officially, our commentary of gyms has emerged from four years of fieldwork at the point at which this book was conceptualised. Given our lifelong engagement in gym and fitness cultures and our enduring and physical, psychological and emotive relationships with gyms, however, our analysis is far more deep­-​­rooted. This prolonged submergence of our own bodies in fitness cultures was of primary importance, as we acted as embodied ‘instruments’ (Denzin & Lincoln, 2000) through which principled, informed decisions were made on where to locate our study, whose stories to include, approaches to methods of data collection and analysis, and how to represent and offer justification for our research (Sparkes & Smith, 2014). In order to embrace the felt and sentient nature of embodied experience amongst gym bodies we adopted qualities of ‘sensual ethnography’ (Pink, 2009; Sparkes, 2009). This was cultivated by attending not only to what was seen, but by developing ‘sensory ethnographic sensitivity’ in becoming what Thorpe (2012; 2014; 2016) defines as ‘material corporeal sociologists’. This meant attuning to more sensorial and visceral embodied knowledge such as what was felt, smelled, heard and tasted in the field. This can be demonstrated by James’s notes on the routinised everyday ritual of unpacking a gym bag: Inevitably I didn’t get around to emptying my gym bag last night which means it has had overnight to fester. As I undo the zip, the rancidity of its contents seeps into the air. I check each item before hastily re­-​­stashing them back in the depths of the bag; I haven’t got time to

54  James Brighton wash anything now. Neoprene knee sleeves, saturated in yesterday’s sweat, are wet to touch and reek of dankness. Cotton wrist straps, although not so pungent, are musty. The worst offender however is the empty protein shaker. Unscrewing the top, I prepare myself for its familiar putridity to assault my nose. The lid pops off. It doesn’t disappoint. So repugnant is its odour, I throw it in the kitchen sink. I take a fresh shaker out of the cupboard and re­-​­fill it with the sweet chocolate tasting powder that once combined with water, will provide the potion that will bring me to life again after the workout. I pick up my leather lifting belt, smooth and shiny on one side, roughly textured on the other, and have a compulsion to bring it to my face to inhale its luxuriousness. I check the rest of the bag filled with what Merleau­-​ ­Ponty (1945: 173) calls “body auxiliaries”, objects that become incorporated into our bodies that we feel and act through, that will be used in the training session ahead. Wire ‘speed’ skipping rope. Check. Chalk to assist grip. Check. Sticky tape to wrap around thumbs to protect in the ‘hook grip’. Check. Specialist lifting shoes with a raised heel. Check. Let’s gooooooo! Given that gyms were, and continue to be, constant in our lives, and have become implicit in understandings of self and identity, we demonstrate characteristics of being ‘experiential ethnographers’ (Sands, 2002). As part of this participatory engagement in the field, we have been immersed in gym cultures over a prolonged time and adopted alternative ‘roles’ at different stages in research that offered unique insights. These included being an overt/covert observer and/or participant observer as a ‘gym user’, a member of a CrossFit class (James), a leader of an exercise class (Amy) and being a client that is personally trained (Ian). Given our professional fitness qualifications,1 at varying times we undertook formally recognised roles in the field. Adopting alternative roles enabled us to integrate ourselves into the settings, legitimise our contribution and increase physical and cultural capital within gym settings. In doing so, we developed particular knowledge, expertise, body techniques, and familiarised ourselves with gym ‘linguistics’ (Bunsell, 2013) assisting our access, submergence and acceptance in alternative fitness spaces. Demonstrating a commitment to an inductive approach to research, decisions were made on where to observe based on how research unfolded. Field work covered multiple sites including commercial ‘globogym’ chains, more upmarket MLCs and smaller privately owned gyms including ‘spit and sawdust’ gyms as well as corporate and educational gyms and CrossFit ‘boxes’. Here, we would immerse ourselves in gym cultures through participating in activities, using gym facilities and taking an active role in gym life. For example, in completing a 5 pm CrossFit class, James would arrive early and stay afterwards to stretch and mobilise, as well as attend social events and support at local competitions. This peripheral engagement

Embodied methodological considerations   55 provided opportunities to share embodied experiences and to get up close and personal to conversations and actions as well as being able to check preliminary interpretations of the data. Notes were taken in research journals, with reflections offered on the embodiedness of particular events. Combined, this helped us develop a self­ -​­ reflexive position within gym fields. Such extended corporeal immersion in various gym settings therefore allowed us to engage with the multi­-​­sensorial and inter­-​­sensorial experiences of our participants and explore how this shaped participants body– self–culture relationships over time. Although our analysis is focused in the UK, we also visited gyms in Western Europe, America, Canada, Australia and Asia as ‘fitness tourists’ (Figure 4.1). Whilst we acknowledge that gym use is expanding globally (International Health, Racquet  & Sportsclub

Figure 4.1 Being a fitness tourist at CrossFit 813, Tampa, Florida (author on the left).

56  James Brighton Association Global Report, 2017), and there is value in cross­ -​­ cultural comparison, such analysis is beyond the boundaries of this book. We therefore base our analysis of gym bodies and movement cultures within the ‘metropole’ and our position within it, focusing on Western heritages and ideals of the body and fitness. In­-​­depth analysis on the globalisation of fitness cultures can be found elsewhere (e.g. Andreasson  & Johansson, 2014a; b; Johansson & Andreasson, 2016; 2017).

Sample, data gathering and field relationships Our own bodies provide the primary instruments through which our analyses of movement cultures are made. However, as part of the inductive and experiential methodology employed for James’s analysis of CrossFit in Chapter 7 and Amy’s analysis of Spinning in Chapter 8, participants emerged within naturalistic terrains (Gubrium & Holstein, 2009) playing more formal roles in contributing to our interpretations. In such cases, in addition to our observations, ethnographic interviews were undertaken in the field and a selection of participants relevant to emerging phenomena invited for semi­-​ ­structured interviews as part of a purposeful sampling strategy (Patton, 2002). Given that within ethnography relationships are complex and sample numbers are small, questions of ‘how long’ were as important as ‘how many’ (Wolcott, 2005). Our samples are therefore not broad, but represent long term and meaningful relationships built up over time. As Wolcott (2005: 60) reinforces, for ethnographers “intimate, long term acquaintance” is essential in building deep emotional and affective bonds and fostering a rich “depth of human understanding” during field work. Although it was not possible to obtain consent from everyone involved (Murphy & Dingwall, 2001) across all gyms, measures were employed in the dominant site fields we inhabited. On our initial visits to places of long term study, we introduced ourselves to the members and explained the nature of our academic interest and outlined the ethical principles involved. Importantly, we gained permission to take field notes about the events, interactions and conversations that took place. Given that ethics is not a static phenomenon, but a fluid process, we regularly sought such permission throughout the fieldwork as our roles and the constitution of gym members changed over time. Additionally, small notices were put up on gym walls outlining our presence and the purpose of our research intentions. Although we have different reasons and interests for using gyms, we all deem ourselves ‘serious’ gym users who work out more often and more vigorously than health would demand and are committed to structured, routinised and lifelong gym participation (Smith, 2000). The gym is an important part of our lives and central in the construction and performance of our amateur athletic identities (Hockey, 2019) which we fit in alongside our professional roles as university lecturers in the United Kingdom. As differently gendered, sexed, aged and abled bodies with alternative gym

Embodied methodological considerations   57 experiences, motivations and interests, we developed individual strategies for access and continuously and reflexively navigated the presentation and performance of our bodies in unique ways throughout a variety of gym terrains. For example, as a white, middle­-​­class, 30 something, ‘straight’, male, my (James’s) integration into mainstream fitness cultures was relatively straightforward. The ease of my normative and culturally privileged body was made even smoother by CrossFit’s underpinning belief in becoming part of a ‘community’ as the following journal extract reveals: One of the most striking things about going to a CrossFit box, wherever that be in Miami or Malmo, is how new members are introduced to the rest of the group and established members are encouraged to interact with them and support them. Most CrossFitters appear to genuinely embrace these beliefs and make a point of saying “Hi” at some point in the class, or at least smiling and making eye contact. Inevitably, as with all social groups, there are some established cliques and hushed conversations, but I can’t help but feel warmed by how welcome I am made to feel. This reception often extends beyond the box. Members invite each other to complete pre­-​­class workouts, go for brunch and coffee after weekend classes, support each other at competitions, share encouragement on online Facebook forums and wear personalised clothing that distinguishes their identity as part of a group providing a sense of belonging and ‘community’ (Figure 4.2). Within these social arrangements, the construction, comportment and performance of my body provided safe yet privileged access within CrossFit cultures: The years of gym training have sedimented themselves into my body, which portrays, at least outwardly, a hyper­-​­masculine­-​­self. In spite of these signifiers of athleticism and masculine ability, my performances on the WOD (Workout of the Day) were poor. As I was not challenging the best times, I was seen as non­-​­threatening to the elite CrossFitters. Coupled with my lacking mastery of key movements, I did not have a good ‘engine’. This became derided by the group and I was quickly referred to as ‘Just Bench’ after my initials (JB) by the male members of the group. I understood that this was in reference to the previous bodybuilding work and bench­-​­pressing I had engaged in prior to starting CrossFit and the deemed inferiority of this from of unsophisticated, aesthetically driven, superficial ‘bro training’ (Mazzetti, 2016) in CrossFit cultures. The appearance and performance of my body allowed me to inhabit a uniquely liminal position. I was able to lift heavy weight on the barbell, granting a certain level of kudos and physical capital, signifying my legitimacy

58  James Brighton

Figure 4.2 The CrossFit ‘community’ (author back centre). Photograph courtesy of Aaron Septimo.

in the group. However, as I was not a real challenger I was not going to destabilise the established masculine hierarchies of ability (Wellard, 2002; 2009) within the group and so was seen as ‘safe’. Coupled with understandings of appropriate humour, this served to maintain open channels of communication, gain acceptance into the group and enable me to be seen as less of an interloper (Wolcott, 2005). I was therefore able to use my knowledge from lifelong saturation in masculine subcultures as described by Sparkes, Partington and Brown (2007) to build rapport and intimacy through reciprocally engaging in masculine ‘banter’ and heterosexual performance in gym contexts. As Wolcott (2005: 75) suggests, not only can appropriate jokes validate the “adequacy of accumulated knowledge” but also demonstrate closeness and acceptance into the ‘inner circle’ of a sporting subculture (Donnelly  & Young, 1999). Although effective in developing relationships with other males and establishing myself in masculine subcultures, this was a

Embodied methodological considerations   59 dangerous strategy. Even though I was critical of ‘rules’ of the ‘jock habitus’ such as misogyny, implicit heteronormativity and ableism, by performing in the field as part of the masculine hierarchy I risked reproducing these forms of symbolic violence and ostracising other CrossFit members. Alternatively, for Amy, maintaining an overtly critical feminist perspective in the field was important. As a woman, she shared experiences, including experiences of oppression and abuse in gyms, with other women in empathetic and reciprocal ways through her own gendered and sexed body. In revealing her own vulnerabilities, women were able to relate to her and were more inclined to share their own experiences of their own bodies. As Wolcott (2005: 59) suggests, giving some of her physical, emotional and political self away in the field was used an “ally, not a sign of weakness” and was influential in developing an ‘embodied standpoint’. According to Frank (2000: 356), this is “a political and ethical act of self­-​­reflection” requiring self­-​­conscious thought into your fate, the choices you have made in the world, and the people with whom you have been positioned. Thus for Amy, revealing some of her own embodied fragilities assisted rapport and self­ -​­ reflexive reflection on her positionality in relation to her female participants. As a white, athletic, twenty­-​­something female, Amy was presented with far more volatile relations within patriarchal structures in the field. This can be chillingly illustrated in the following example in which she describes the abuse she encountered by transgressing the sacred masculine free weight area of the gym in research: “What have we said about wearing big panties?” The hairs on the back of my neck tingle as his warm breath reaches my ear. I feel the sensation of his unwanted hand run over the contours of my bum. I look around to see who has violated my personal boundaries; who has forced their body onto mine. He stands close, sweaty, hulking and ominous in the middle of his workout. I’m outnumbered. I’m the only female in the free weights area. Mustering the courage to project my disgust, I glare at him. Heart pulsating. Breathing short. “What have we said about being an asshole and touching people without their permission?” Fearing what may happen next, I stand firm. His lips curve into a faint smile and an arrogant chortle escapes from the side of his mouth. He turns around and continues with his workout. I can still feel the pressure of his hand on my flesh. I feel violated. This rapidly occurring situation was difficult and potentially dangerous for Amy to negotiate as a neophyte researcher. Going into the field, she wanted to manage relations smoothly and without conflict in order to maintain open to all relationships and avenues of communication. Through her lifelong submergence and employment in fitness cultures, however, she continuously experienced everyday sexually objectifying behaviour such as being the

60  James Brighton

Figure 4.3 Building relationships in the gym.

recipient of wolf whistles and explicit sexual comments and being touched inappropriately. Such abuse and the projection of masculine symbolic violence, often disguised as ‘banter’, became normalised. However, through developing an understanding of gym spaces, she was able to distinguish that such misogyny would be heightened within particular gyms and times and consequently, she was able to prepare herself to develop strategies for resolutely maintaining a feminist self in the field. On this occasion, this was achieved by rejecting the moral justification for violation as ‘banter’ and unwaveringly establishing physical boundaries of engagement in the gym. These examples of “bodily tensions” (Thorpe, 2012: 72) experienced in the field empirically demonstrate how we consider our situatedness and posi­ tionality in relation to our participants and how we use reflexivity as an analytical tool by acknowledging and revealing the ways through which knowledge is generated not in isolation to, but with and through ourselves as researchers.

Embodied methodological considerations   61 In doing so, we recognise the individually located social processes at play through which people experience their lives, thereby challenging objective norms in the production of masculine, heteronormative and able­-​­bodied knowledge. Knowledge presented in this book is therefore jointly produced and connected to the meanings we hold of the world, the interpretations we make of the other, and our embodied presence as researchers in the field (Inckle, 2007). As part of this reflexive approach, we became increasingly conscious of the ‘selves’ we presented in the field. As such, as experiential ethnographers we became relatively efficient at managing and manipulating impressions within alternative gym terrains and across different gym spaces (Goffman, 1959). Over time, although not always complicit in them, we became naturalised into gym cultures and “accepted as part of the social landscape” (Sands, 2002: 22), becoming embedded in the production of social behaviour itself. In doing so, we developed trusting and enduring relationships with our participants – demonstrated by working out together, changing together, engaging in various body-to-body greetings and motivational rituals such as high fiving, hugging or slapping each other on the back, and taking post workout photographs to celebrate and remember the occasion. (Figure 4.3). Fostering a sense of rapport is crucial in exploring the lives of others and is particularly important when collecting sensitive data on the body (Inckle, 2007). Dyadic and emotive relationships that were built up with participants over time were therefore managed sensitively and considered as a serious and morally responsible matter.

Analysis, judgement and representation We each interpreted findings relevant to the phenomena focused on for a given chapter. For sections in which interview data was collected (e.g.  Chapter  7 and 8) thematic analyses as described by Riessman (2008) were conducted in which importance is given to the content of what is said rather than ‘how’, ‘to whom’, or ‘for what purposes’. For Braun, Clarke and Weate (2016) this is central in identifying patterns of meaning across qualitative data and establishing their importance. Subsequently, these interpretations were discussed with the rest of the research team. Field notes and interview transcripts were shared and themes agreed on helping make sense of data and fostering more encompassing interpretations. For example, Ian’s experiences of CrossFit in a university box in which he often completed workouts by himself were significantly different to James’s who completed classes in a commercial setting with other paying members. Resultantly, Ian and James often met up to check and compare interpretations of individual experiences. In terms of judging our research, we acknowledge that whilst quantitative research is often based on judgements of objectivity, reliability, validity and truth, alternative philosophical assumptions inform qualitative inquiry (Denzin & Lincoln, 1994; 2000; Sparkes, 2001; 2002). Rather than

62  James Brighton make attempts to replicate or parallel these criteria we employ what has been called a ‘letting go’ approach by abandoning the word ‘validity’ and replacing it with alternative criteria (Sparkes, 1998; 2001). Specifically we adapt Richardson’s (2000) judgement criteria for ethnography and call on our study to be judged through these ways (Appendix 1). Finally, in writing Gym Bodies we aim to provide a representation style that appropriately allows for a more embodied sociological approach. Whilst rich, fleshy experiences of gym users are mainly represented in what is likened to a ‘realist tale’ (Van Maanen, 1988; Sparkes, 2002) promoting participants’ point of view and assuming interpretative omnipotence, we also heavily employ autoethnographic vignettes to give personal experience of participating in the field as an experiencing ‘gym body’. As recommended by Vannini, Waskul and Gottschalk (2013), sensual accounts are predominantly situated at the beginning of chapters in order to hone the reader’s attention to the carnality of the sensing fleshy bodies we inhabit and research through. Here, our varying self­-​­reflexive positions as gendered, sexed, raced, aged, classed and able bodies are established and reflected on as we embark on our research journeys. Combining our voices with our participants in subsequent analysis provides polyvocal, thick, textured accounts of gym experiences and the importance of gyms in the fabric of our lives and the lives of other individuals. Having acknowledged the embodied approaches we have taken in exploring gym bodies and movement cultures, we now turn our attention to analysis of the spaces in which fitness activities occur.

Note 1 James: fitness instructor/personal trainer; Ian: fitness instructor and Level 2 CrossFit coach; Amy: fitness instructor, personal trainer, spin instructor.

References Andreasson, J.  & Johansson, T. (2014a) The fitness revolution: Historical transformations in the global gym and fitness culture. Sports Science Review, 23 (3–4), 91–112. Andreasson, J.  & Johansson, T. (2014b) The Global Gym: Gender, Health and Pedagogies. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Braun, V., Clarke, V.  & Weate, P. (2016) Using thematic analysis in sport and exercise research. In: Smith, B.  & Sparkes, A.C. (eds.), Routledge Handbook of Qualitative Research in Sport and Exercise. London: Routledge, pp. 191–205. Bunsell, T. (2013) Strong and Hard Women: An Ethnography of Female Bodybuilding. London: Routledge. Denzin, N.K.  & Lincoln, Y.S. (1994) Handbook of Qualitative Research. London: Sage Publications Ltd. Denzin, N.K.  & Lincoln, Y.S. (2000) Handbook of Qualitative Research. 2nd edn. London: Sage Publications Ltd.

Embodied methodological considerations   63 Donnelly, P.  & Young, K. (1999) Rock climbers and rugby players: identity construction and confirmation. In: Coakley, J. & Donnelly, P. (eds.), Inside Sport. London and New York: Routledge, pp. 67–76. Frank, A.W. (2000) The standpoint of storyteller. Qualitative Health Research, 10 (3), 354–365. Goffman, E. (1959) The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life. New York: Anchor. Gubrium, J. & Holstein, J. (2009) Analysing Narrative Reality. London: Sage. Hockey, J. (2019) Everyday routines as transformative processes: A sporting case. Sociological Research Online, 24 (2), 219–234. Inckle, K. (2007) Writing On the Body? Thinking Through Gendered Embodiment and Marked Flesh. Newcastle­-​­Upon­-​­Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing. International Health, Racquet & Sportsclub Association (IRHRSA) Global Report (2017) Available at: www.ihrsa.org/publications/the­-​­2017­-​­ihrsa­-​­global­-​­report/ (Accessed: 1st March 2020). Johansson, T. & Andreasson, J. (2016) The gym and the beach: Globalisation, situated bodies, and Australian fitness. Journal of Contemporary Ethnography, 45 (2), 143–167. Johansson, T. & Andreasson, J. (2017) The new fitness geography: The globalisation of Japanese gym and fitness culture. Leisure Studies, 36 (3), 383–394. Mazzetti, D. (2016) The Swoly Bible: The Bro Science Way of Life. New York: Plume. Merleau­-​­Ponty, M. [1945] (1997) Kroppens femonelogi [Phenomenology of Perception. An Introduction]. Uddevalla: Daidalos. Murphy, E.  & Dingwall, R. (2001) The ethics of ethnography. In: Atkinson, P., Coffey, A., Delemont, A., Lofland, J.  & Lofland, L. (eds.), Handbook of Ethnography. London: Sage, pp. 339–351. Patton, M.Q. (2002) Qualitative Evaluation and Research Methods. Newbury Park, CA: Sage Publications. Pink, S. (2009) Doing Sensory Ethnography. London: Sage Publications. Riessman, K. (2008) Narrative Methods for the Human Sciences. London: Sage. Sands, R. (2002) Sports Ethnography. Champaign, IL: Human Kinetics. Smith, S.L. (2000) British non­ -​­ elite road running and masculinity: A case of “running repairs”? Men and Masculinities, 3 (2), 187–208. Sparkes, A.C. (1998) Validity in qualitative inquiry and the problem of criteria: implications for sport psychology. The Sport Psychologist, 12 (4), 363–386. Sparkes, A.C. (2001) Myth 94: qualitative researchers will agree about validity. Qualitative Health Research, 11 (4), 538–552. Sparkes, A.C. (2002) Telling Tales in Sport and Physical Activity: A Qualitative Journey. Champaign, IL: Human Kinetics. Sparkes, A.C. (2009) Ethnography and the senses: challenges and possibilities. Qualitative Research in Sport, Exercise and Health, 1 (1), 21–35. Sparkes, A.C., Partington, E. & Brown, D.H.K. (2007) Bodies as bearers of value: the transmission of jock culture via the “Twelve Commandments”. Sport, Education and Society, 12 (3), 295–316. Sparkes, A.C. & Smith, B. (2014) Qualitative Research Methods in Sport, Exercise and Health: From Process to Product. Abingdon, UK: Routledge. Thorpe, H. (2012) The ethnographic (i)nterview in the sports field: Towards a postmodern sensibility. In Young, K.  & Atkinson, M. (eds.), Qualitative Research on Sport and Physical Culture. Bingley, UK: Emerald Group Publishing Ltd, pp. 51–78. Thorpe, H. (2014) Moving bodies beyond the social/biological divide: Toward theoretical and transdisciplinary adventures. Sport, Education and Society, 19 (5), 666–686.

64  James Brighton Thorpe, H. (2016) Athletic women’s experiences of amenorrhea: Biomedical technologies, somatic ethics and embodied subjectivities. Sociology of Sport Journal, 33 (1), 1–13. Van Maanen, J. (1988) Tales From the Field: On Writing Ethnography. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Vannini, P., Waskul, D.  & Gottschalk, S. (2013) The Senses in Self, Society and Culture: A Sociology of the Senses. New York and London: Routledge. Wellard, I. (2002) Men, sport, body performance and the maintenance of “exclusive masculinity”. Leisure Studies, 21 (3–4), 235–247. Wellard, I. (2009) Sport, Masculinities and the Body. London: Routledge. Wolcott, H. (2005) The Art of Fieldwork. 2nd ed. Lanham, MD: Alta Mira Press.

5 Gym spaces James Brighton, Ian Wellard and Amy Clark

It’s 5.30pm on a bitterly cold early February evening. Lethargic from the day’s sedentary academic work, I pull into the car park, grab my oversized gym bag from my boot and throw it over my shoulder. I make my way through the drizzle and darkness, passing various industrial units until, like a beacon, I see light shining through the glass fronted gym door. Clang – clang – clan­-​­clan­-​­clang. As I get closer I can hear the familiar sound of weighted Olympic bars being dropped and reverberating off the floor in unison and the high­-​­energy beats of the latest dance track escaping into the grainy night sky. The 5 pm CrossFit class must be in full swing, I think to myself. Heart speeds, skin tingles, muscles crackle and electricity pulsates through my body. I experience a visceral re­ -​­ awakening. “JB!” Entering the gym I am enthusiastically greeted from behind the desk by three twenty­ -​­ something muscled personal trainers with Men’s Fitness magazine good looks. There is a particularly potent atmosphere tonight. The place is buzzing, dusted in human effervescence. To my right, men in tight fitting vest tops and loose fitting jogging bottoms are busily lifting dumbbells and barbells whilst sat on benches. Beyond that, Olympic and power lifters clad in tight lycra and oversized belts are throwing impossibly huge weights above their heads atop of wooden platforms. Directly in front me, there is a swarm of near naked sweat saturated CrossFitters jumping up onto wooden boxes with breakneck speed before deadlifting heavy weighted bars and dropping them again in unison. Against the back wall, the whir of cardiovascular machines provides a low background hum. Bodies are everywhere. Moving. Sweating. Groaning. Talking. Laughing. Flirting. I breathe in the atmosphere, stash my bag, and step forward and join them. (James – reflections on the daily routine of ‘going to the gym’) Waiting in line to pay at the front desk, a guy wearing a snapback cap, muscles bulging out of his top and shorts, asks the receptionist when the least busy time to attend is. “It used to be full of the hardcore guys down here, now it’s just full of fucking tourists,” he bemoans. The

66  James Brighton et al. receptionist agrees, and together they grumble about ‘outsiders’ and mourn the golden days of yesteryear. Keeping my head down, I stare at the floor. I keep quiet, not wanting to give my ‘tourist’ status away, which inevitably will be as soon as I open my excited mouth exposing my British accent. As I’m at Gold’s Gym in California, I’m wearing a bright pink top and shorts. I never usually wear pink shorts back home at my gym; they are too garish and stereotypically feminine, but they fit in here and blend in with the other brightly coloured, tight fitting clothing that adorns other gym users’ bodies. I pay $25 for a day pass, which includes unlimited use of the gym and exercise classes, and sign myself in.   In order to get to the spin room, I need to navigate myself across the gym floor. It’s HUGE. Coming from a small home town gym, I am overwhelmed by the vastness of it. There are hundreds of fixed resistance machines all designed to isolate differing body parts, encircled by mirrors that give the illusion that the gym is the centre of its own universe. Aware of eyes on me, I shyly make my way to the door that leads to the next room. I notice how toned and tanned the bodies are around me, thinking how skinny and pale I am in comparison. I had been hoping that I might actually look like I was a frequent gym goer in the eyes of the Gold’s Gym members, but on surveillance of my body I realise I will not. Creeping into the next room I pop my head around the corner. Holy shit! I cannot believe the size of this place. Shelves of barbells and dumbbells are stacked against the walls and in the middle, wave after wave of inflated buffed muscular bodies fill every available space. I tiptoe my way through them and take the stairs up to the next level. I am confronted by yet another huge room, this time with long lines of static elliptical machines, torture devices to strain cardiovascular systems. I pass alongside them to the Spinning studio. “I’ve made it,” I think to myself, “I’m just about to work out in Gold’s Gym!” (Amy – extract from experience of visiting Gold’s Gym, Venice, California)

Introduction The extracts above demonstrate how, as part of our daily embodied routines, gyms affect our corporealness as we enter their distinctly different spaces and undertake fitness practices within them. Importantly, our identities are intricately connected to the social and cultural contexts and places in which these experiences occur (Taylor, 2010). As Sparkes (2010: 29) suggests then, further attention should focus on the intimate and shifting relationships between body, self and social context over time by “examining where and when certain contexts are produced, who these are produced by, and the implications this has for experiencing and expectations of individuals”. Whilst Chapter 3 outlined the historical evolvement of gyms and

Gym spaces   67 ideologies of contemporary fitness, within this chapter we therefore acknowledge gym spaces and how spatial arrangements within them affects behaviours, interactions, subjectivities, embodied experiences and identity constructions, contributing to Edmonds (2019: 13) call to more critically attend to the “spatial locations of everyday fitness”. Although we recognise the relentless diversification of contemporary gyms we focus our attention on: i) ‘spit and sawdust’ gyms, utilitarian often industrial fitness spaces with basic facilities and; ii) modern lifestyle clubs (MLCs), lavish and opulent health clubs, and their budget reincarnations, ‘globogyms’. In doing so, we distinguish how these spaces have served to discipline knowledge of fitness and the body. After providing distinctions of these fitness facilities, our analysis subsequently explores how the spaces within gym spaces such as the ‘front desk’, the ‘gym floor’ and the ‘changing rooms’ are socially and culturally constructed in ways that enable or constrain individuals through the creation of formal and informal boundaries and distinctions which serve to privilege some bodies and separate, order and exclude others (Lefebvre, 1991). Defined as ‘reverential spaces’ due to their “informal and formal rules and procedures according to a logic that is only perceptible to members” (Spencer, 2012: 37), active participation in these sections of the gym is dependent on types of fitness practice and knowledge, performances of physical, cultural and social ‘gym capital’, and the embodiment of ability, gender, race and class. Finally, in response to the arrangement of spaces within spit and sawdust gyms, MLCs and globogyms, specific attention is given to CrossFit and the ‘boxes’ in which it is undertaken which in many ways resemble the original Turnplatz described in Chapter 3. Acknowledging this recent return to functional forms of fitness and what has been deemed the “biggest global fitness movement in the 21st Century” (Dawson, 2017: 361) provides an example of a challenge to normative gym spaces whilst concurrently ‘setting the scene’ for a more thorough analysis of this phenomenon by James in Chapter 8.

‘Spit and sawdust’ gyms To the uninitiated, this gym might resemble a torture chamber or a BDSM dungeon. Racks upon racks of hexagonal black dumbbells are stacked against the far wall, starting at 5 kilograms escalating in weight to a huge 50 kilograms. Olympic, powerlifting, straight and E­-​­ Z bars (to isolate the biceps muscles) stand erect in holders. There are piles of green 10 kg, yellow 15 kg, blue 20 kg and red 25 kg plates in the corner. Other plates are left lying around on the chalk and dust covered floor along with ancillary equipment like chains, ropes, belts, clips, boxes, benches and various Machiavellian looking adaptations for the high and low pulleys. Squat racks and lifting platforms are arranged side by side. There are a few minimalist resistance machines, such as a leg

68  James Brighton et al. press, that focus on harnessing powerful movement rather than iso­ lating particular muscle groups. This whole gym is the reserve for Olympic lifters, power lifters and strong(wo)men. Knowledge on how to lift weight and use these contraptions must be learned before gaining access into this space. I feel excited. This is my playground; the weights are my toys. Yet to others it must be a somewhat intimidating set­-​­up in which one must find it difficult to know where to start. As described by James above, a ‘spit and sawdust’ gym can be conceptua­lised as a ‘hardcore gym’ which historically has been considered a space for bodybuilders, powerlifters and Olympic weightlifters. These are raw, functional, utilitarian gyms that do not endorse the luxuries of plush facilities, changing rooms or décor, as described by Murray (1980) in his description of an early spit and sawdust gym: A descending staircase at the sidewalk entrance led to a huge, somewhat dirty, equipment­ -​­ filled room. One small iron­ -​­ grated window gave a tiny view of the sidewalk above. There were holes in the floor, of various sizes, because guys has dropped weights, and some of them would gather water when it rained, due to leakage in the walls and ceilings. Rats lived in the gym, and muscleniks, too, from time to time. (p. 47) This depiction is not dissimilar to spit and sawdust gyms that exist today which continue to take pride in their utilitarianism. Where the primal focus is given to making the body bigger and stronger, there is no need for facilities to possess aesthetic appeal, cleanliness or cultivate a sense of comfort (Figure 5.1, Figure 5.2). Indeed, doing so is deemed antithetical to achieving gains in strength, power and size  – the crudeness of the surroundings encourages hard work which becomes absorbed into the body. This can be demonstrated by Frankie, a 23­-​­year­-​­old personal trainer who recalls entering a gym reserved for hardcore resistance trainers for the first time: I was 17. I remember loud music, gangster music, loads of people lifting a lot of weight, making a lot of noise. Not many girls in here, it was pretty dark. We came here, I think it was the winter, paid cash on the door, a big guy greeted us and then it was like you’re in the jungle with all the big boys. It was really exciting at the time. We used to love it coming down here; we never went back to [globogym chain] again; it took our training to the next level. It was a typical gainers’ gym, associated with steroids, who was strongest, who was biggest, and who was the baddest. Just lads basically, all the people on the desk, the people training, were using [­steroids]. It was a free weights gym, and that’s all there was. There was a

Gym spaces   69 couple of cardio machines, two treadmills, and the rest was just weights, benches and racks. There was a dumbbell area, some free weights machines, and then a 20 × 20 metre ‘bear pit’ of concrete with tyres in, [lifting] platforms and more weights. People just used to load stuff up. No form, no regard for health. Just get right after it.

Figure 5.1 Entrance to a typical spit and sawdust gym.

70  James Brighton et al.

Figure 5.2 Interior of a typical spit and sawdust gym.

According to Frankie, gaining access to these hardcore gyms requires the development of knowledge of lifting free weights and demonstration of a commitment and dedication to “take their training to the next level”. Consequently, as Steve, an ex­-​­strongman who has managed a spit and sawdust gym for 20 years suggests, individuals often first undergo initiations within commercial gyms, and only once this corporeal grounding has been established are they permitted to ‘graduate’ into their ranks: I call them [commercial gyms] feeder gyms. It’s like getting into Oxford University. You’ve got a kid that went to nursery and he shone a little bit. Then he went to a good primary school, shone a little bit more, that meant that he went to a better secondary school. Then, because of his results at secondary school he got into a good college instead of a shit college. Then, that good college gave him a good chance to go to a good university. So, it happens across the board with any kind of development. Most people go to the gym just to get a little bit of muscle, and they go to a comfortable gym, which would be a like a commercial gym. Then a few people from that aspire to want more, you know, they’ve read a basic guide to physics or basic guide to fucking bodybuilding, then they’re like, “I want to get an advanced guide to bodybuilding, I want to get Jedi level

Gym spaces   71 bodybuilding”. You can work out in commercial gym, but you get all sorts of trainers in there. But you have to generate your own energy and motivation. Whereas you come to a hardcore gym, you’re surrounded by fucking lions. You’re all working hard to achieve something. I use the analogy of a gun factory with a gym. One factory might produce thousands of hand guns, whereas the other might produce a sniper gun which requires precision engineering. People make choice on what gyms to go to dependent on the precision of their needs. In order to gain access to these fitness spaces, individuals must embrace the ethos and training methods. Once established, membership within unique gym habitus is maintained through exchanging corporeal knowledge on technique, programming, nutrition and supplementation, all of which contribute in shaping and reshaping an individual’s fitness goals over time (Sassatelli, 2010; Millington 2016; 2018). In many hardcore spit and sawdust gyms, this extends to taking risks including lifting heavy weights, adhering to extreme diets and engaging in ‘ethnopharmaceutical’ drug use (Monaghan, 2001). Thus, embodied gym practices are informed not just by the type of gym, but the people who are attracted to them, constitute them and own them, as Frankie continues: One thing that’s massively noticeable is the characters that were in there … The guy that worked the desk was massively into weightlifting, he was also pretty loud, pretty strong, knew everyone, talked to everyone about weightlifting, ran a weightlifters’ course in here, so everyone was pressured towards weightlifting … So yes, 100% coming to this gym has influenced what I do. For me, when I came here I started weightlifting, because back then that was what it was, everyone was weightlifting. I made friends with weightlifters; it was cool to be strong. I’d say when I was at my old gym and did my own thing, I was doing bodybuilding training, trying to look good. Then came here, met the guys that were older and I thought cool, lifting big weights, and I was like, “I want to do that”. Definitely. I even went away from playing sport, stopped playing rugby so I could weightlift … when you’re young and you come to the gym, surrounded by a load of people lifting weights then you want to do that. I used to come here and lift all the time, I even used to skip school and come here in the day. In spite of the enthusiasm of serious resistance trainers, however, the changing social, cultural, commercial and political milieus of fitness and health have threatened the existence of spit and sawdust gyms in their original form. For Steve, changing consumer trends, increasing population, aggressive urban development and the relentless corporatisation of fitness has led to the ‘gentrification’ of original spit and sawdust gyms and with it the transmission of knowledge between gym owners and members:

72  James Brighton et al. The problem is a lot of small private gyms are the ones that hold some of the best and most knowledgeable people are being forced to close down or being bought up by property developers. The gym only functions with everybody going there, the general populace; you can’t just wait for the one person to come from a [commercial] after using it for five years to pay your bills, so the gym goes under. Commercial gyms have took the good money out of the industry. Everybody is going there, and the other gyms have been left for the few to go to once they fancy a little bit more. So normally they’ve run out of business or they’ve gone under and as a result we’ve lost the industry, we’ve lost the people who’ve taught the next generation and the next generation, we haven’t got that skillset no more. Also, property development has killed bodybuilding. When I lived in Brixton there wasn’t any bodybuilding gyms from Crystal Palace inwards, and I could never understand why, but then I saw what was happening. As properties’ prices increased as these towns and cities grew, you know, they developed. Prices of houses went up through the roof, so people that had little gyms and little warehouses, they was all knocked down and developed. So, the actual space to have a gym, a low income, a low finance, low maintenance space went. Property development spoilt it, killed off a lot of gyms. Echoing the Gold’s Gym member described by Amy in opening this chapter, Steve reminisces about the authenticity of fitness places and forms of training he deems superior with a sense of nostalgia for bodybuilding’s ‘golden’ ‘middle era’ (Liokaftos, 2017), a period in which hardcore resistance training gained more widespread social acceptance and the hyper­-​­muscled body impregnated mainstream culture. His comments are however intimately tied to previous senses of body, self and ‘community’ which he perhaps longs for. As Blackshaw (2011: 145) highlights, being nostalgic is full of ache and melancholy for “what will always be, yet never quite was” with an “unappeased yearning to return” causing perpetual anguish. Furthermore, in taking backward­-​­looking gazes at special times and places of being together, we forget things we’d rather not remember. Being conscious of nostalgic longing for previous places, times and bodies challenges the assertion that there ever was a golden era of bodybuilding and perhaps restricts a willingness to change with contemporary fitness trends and dynamics of commercialisation. For example, in response to the market demands elucidated by Steve, many contemporary spit and sawdust gyms have evolved into ‘specialised’ fitness spaces and in some cases rebranded as strength and conditioning facilities in order to meet the rising interest in developing amateur athletic identities. Once the only forms of privatised gyms available, small, independent gyms now compete with commercial gyms through meeting the needs of more advanced or serious resistance trainers such as elite and amateur athletes and individuals wishing to recover from injury or improve

Gym spaces   73 postural alignment and mobility in addition their original clientele of bodybuilders, powerlifters and strong(wo)men. Resultantly, small scale specialised gyms have experienced a resurgence in some locations in recent times. In spite of these trends, few educational pathways are available for individuals to develop the corporeal knowledge to enter these gym spaces directly, resulting in them remaining the reserve of the knowledgeable or affluent few who are able to afford a personal trainer to provide tuition and guidance (see Chapter 6).

Modern lifestyle clubs (MLCs) As outlined in Chapter 3, the MLC arose in response to the commerciali­ sation of health, leisure and lifestyle choice and an increasing pressure to work towards corporate ideals of bodily perfectionism. ‘Going to the gym’ became an extension of social life for an urban, affluent population with an increasing interest in health, active leisure, and development of a positive work/life balance. Accordingly, MLCs evolved as sleek, sanitised, seductive, exclusive places within which the currency of physical capital was worked on and exchanged. In addition to the ‘gym floor’ these large, com­mercial, corporatised gym spaces now house group fitness studios, ‘Spinning’ rooms, neon­ -​­ lit swimming pools, steam rooms, saunas, Jacuzzis, therapy rooms, tennis courts, crèches, cafés, juice and supplement bars, tanning rooms, hair­ dressing and beauty therapy salons, physiotherapists and plush lounges to relax and socialise in after a strenuous workout. Although these develop­ ments made gyms more inclusive to women (Smith Maguire, 2007; 2008; Millington, 2016; 2018), MLCs, like other fitness facilities such as CrossFit (see below), remain predominantly white, able­ -​­ bodied, affluent, young, corporate fitness spaces (Sparkes, 2010). The organisation of memberships at MLCs reflects Western neoliberal individualism. For a sign-up fee and a monthly direct debit, access is provided to the gym as well as a multitude of other fitness and exercise activities and classes including bodypump, bodyattack, bodybalance, bodycombat, and bodystep (all by Les Mills), indoor cycling, step aerobics and zumba, to name a few. Newcomers to the club are given inductions in which they are told how to operate cardiovascular (CV) and fixed resistance machines safely and encouraged to undergo sequential routinised programmes usually involving: i)  a warm­-​­up to raise heart rate and some basic mobility; ii) a circuit of 6–8 exercises on fixed resistance machines (3 sets of 8–10 reps each); iii) completion of CV exercise on elliptical machines; iv) a cool down and stretching. Over time, these programmes become engrained as embodied routine, often completed mindlessly and privately – yet within public space. As Greif (2017) observes, social interactions in MLCs are structured around these regimens; whilst members engage in the same rhythms and rituals alongside one another, social etiquette determines that we do not interfere with others:

74  James Brighton et al. Our gym is better named a “health club,” except that it is no club for equal meetings of members. It is the atomized space in which one does formerly private things, before others’ eyes, with the lonely solitude of a body acting as if it were still in private. One tries out these contortions to undo and remake a private self; and if the watching others aren’t entitled to approve, some imagined aggregate “other” does. Modern gym exercise moves biology into the nonsocial company of strangers. You are supposed to coexist but not look closely, wipe down the metal of handlebars and the rubber of mats as if you had not left a trace. As in the elevator, you are expected to face forward. (pp. 5–6) Within these ‘clubs’, ‘going to the gym’ remained a solo pastime, a private boundary further demarked by users listening to music through headphones or increasingly, plugging into high tech, individualised CV machines inclusive of LCD screens showing the latest television and film as forms of ‘extertainment’ (Dale et al., 2009). In recent times the upmarket MLC has diversified to include more affordable reincarnations that appeal to a broader range of gym users – ‘globogyms’. These low cost gyms retain many of the same organising principles of exclusive health clubs, but offer no frills equipment, minimal staff and 24/7 opening times to cater for alternative blue collar jobs with irregular shift patterns. These cheaper gyms are more inclusive in terms of the broader range of people that are able to enter and gain membership. This is reflected by the 2016 State of the UK Fitness Industry Report, which highlights that low cost gyms have now become the market leader in the UK and are growing aggressively, accounting for 12% of the total number of private clubs and 32% of the private sector membership. Having outlined the historical emergence of spit and sawdust, MLCs and globogyms on the contemporary gym scene, we now provide in­ -depth ​­ embodied analysis through exploring the specific construction of spaces within them, namely: i) front desks; ii) changing rooms and iii) gym floors. In doing so, we highlight how gyms should not be seen as monolithic static spaces, but comprise of clearly distinguished sections which are policed through strict social relations, cultural codes and bodily performances that serve to separate particular fitness practices and users, and profoundly influence the embodied experiences of ‘going to the gym’.

The front desk The front desk is the first point of contact with the ‘inside world’ of the gym, a liminal space through which people sign in and pass through before entering its exclusive sphere and becoming ‘part of the club’. Front desks act as the ‘overseeing eye’ (Foucault, 1981) through which bodies and their performances are placed under surveillance. Within spit and sawdust gyms,

Gym spaces   75 for example, front desks have historically doubled up as a meeting place and a ‘boardroom’ amongst established members in which information on training, diet and supplementation and ‘ethnopharmaceutical’ drug use is shared and transmitted between members (Monaghan, 2001). These meeting places are not open to everyone, but exclusive to predominantly male members who have adequate levels of gym capital, a bank of corporeal fitness knowledge and a willingness to take risks – all of which are evidenced through a developed physique. As Steve discusses, the ‘court’ held at the front desk is hierarchical, with novice trainers or those not willing to adhere to these strict cultural codes having no right to even get “fucking close” to the desk until they have paid their dues and learned the rules of engagement: When I went to gyms you walked in, [you] didn’t say nothing, you just went and trained. A year later you walked in and you might hang about in reception a little bit and listen to what was being said and no one stared at you too much. Two, three years you could stand at the counter like that, you could probably stand there all day drinking your drink. Then we started getting to that rare atmosphere of six or seven years, you can start putting your two pence worth in, putting your opinions in and getting a bit of banter going. And then for a very few lucky individuals after about 10 or 12 years you could actually stand round the other side of the counter and be the one that was holding court. And that’s how it worked basically, because you did your apprenticeship, you shut up when the masters talked, then eventually you got cocky enough to say something to the master and he either slapped you down or he went, “Oh, that’s quite good, that boy shows a bit of promise,” and you learn, you learn, you learn. Feminist scholars have long addressed the dynamics of gendered spatial segregation and how binary division legitimatises oppression and dependence based on gender whilst also serving to regulate sexuality (e.g. Scott & Keates, 2004; Brown, 2006). The inferior binary positioning of women at the front desk, evident in Andy’s comments above, is further elucidated in Amy’s reflections below in which she recalls her experiences of working on the front desk in a spit and sawdust gym: Whenever I walk into the ‘front desk’, the first thing I notice is the skyscraper of shelving, towering from floor to ceiling full of various supplements and proteins, all available to purchase. Glitzy and colourful, their packaging is covered in large attractive letters … MUSCLE MASS  … MUSCLE GAINER … PURE WHEY, all aiding in the ‘growth’ of the (male) body. “Alright Princess” musters the muscle head behind the desk. He isn’t employed by the gym but seems to spend all his time either training or becoming part of the furniture in

76  James Brighton et al. this supposedly staff only area. Jostling past him, I remind him of that he is not permitted in this area. Taking my seat behind the desk, I can smell the damp stench of used gym clothes shoved under the counter. The thumping of music penetrates through the makeshift MDF walls. ‘Smack My Bitch Up’ by the Prodigy, AGAIN. I suspect that the music choice has been made by the hardcore trainers who have helped themselves to the CDs behind the desk without asking for permission. The front desk, which is really just a wooden work surface, also doubles up as the ‘gym bar’. Stools are aligned on the opposite side to where I sit, usually filled with the most serious of male gym goers, mixing, blending and gulping down their shakes. Stacks of bodybuilding and powerlifting magazines, usually with hyped and pumped­ -​­ up bodies adorning their covers, are strewn across the counter. This is a male domain; large male muscular bodies dominate and challenge the very space my body is occupying. Loud, boisterous, misogynistic and heteronormative banter dominates the air waves. “Alright sweetheart, feed me some protein,” one of them lewdly suggests. I feel uneasy and threatened, but equally I am used to this and know how to snap back when I need to in order to hold my own and assert my legitimacy in this space. I hand him a shake and infer I will throw it over him if he asks so rudely in the future. I imagine how intimidating their presence must be for new gym members who enter the door, or members who are not deemed as ‘hardcore’ as them and feel inferior under their judging eye. Similar to Amy who locates the front desk as an exclusive and male dominated area, Swan (1999) reflects on how the ‘welcome’ received at front desks in an MLC is not welcoming at all. Rather, a corporeal order of bodily acceptance exists based on gender, age, ability and class, maintained through instantaneous hierarchical surveillance. Deemed an ageing male, Swan is not granted access to, or even acknowledged by staff at the front desk in taking his membership card from him “without recognising, or looking at me at all. Not even a pause in their conversation” (p. 38). This reflection hints at how the evolvement of gyms have led to sanitisation and diminishing importance of front desks in larger commercial gyms and health clubs. Instead, these spaces have become corporatised, with owners who were often serious resistance trainers themselves being replaced with ‘receptionists’ with limited fitness knowledge whose expertise focus on sales and operational maintenance. Interestingly, cheaper 24/7 globogyms do not have front desks at all, but operate though pin entry systems, effectively negating many of the problems of negotiating the front desk and the social barriers of access. Nevertheless, Steve claims that the changing dynamics or eradication of front desks irrevocably destroyed the ‘atmosphere’, sociality and knowledge transmission hub of the gym:

Gym spaces   77 The world’s changed a lot, there is no real place in these [commercial gyms] for standing at the counter listening to men talking about training and diet and some of the dark side of things that they do with chemicals and taking this and taking that, because it is wrong. You know, if any kid ever walked in here and asked me for advice, I’m not going to tell them. I’m only going to talk to people of my own age and experience, and I only talk about my experiences. I don’t advise anyone to do anything, but it would be considered inappropriate if I sat in [commercial gym] talking like this now, it would be considered wrong, wouldn’t it? It would be frowned upon. It’s sad. We’ve lost knowledge and the kind of focal point for the gym. With an emphasis on corporate objectives, Steve’s fear is that the essence of the front desk has been lost, and with the forces of commercialisation, the behaviours of gym users themselves have been controlled and regulated, for example, in relation to IPED use. Whilst on the surface this may be deemed positive as part of ‘cleaning up’ gyms, it is Steve’s opinion that this is dangerous as gym members obtain drugs from the ‘underground’ and use them without the insight of tried and tested corporeal knowledge in becoming what Monaghan (2001) terms ‘ethnopharmacologists’. The suggestion here, although contentious, is that historically, spit and sawdust gyms were better placed to regulate safe drug use. A seemingly trivial gym space then, the front desk holds significant meaning in enabling and constraining gym members, constructing and transmitting particular forms of fitness knowledge, reinforcing heterosexual masculine order and privilege and marginalising others through carnal surveillance.

Changing rooms Changing rooms provide a functional place for gym members to take off and put on clothing, wash and undertake bodily maintenance. They are however not merely utilitarian spaces, but experienced alternatively in different gym settings and are important liminal, public and private spaces in which various body techniques and embodied forms of action, maintenance and ritual are displayed, performed and disciplined through unique spatial, social and cultural dynamics (Crossley, 1995; Swan, 1999). For example, the layout, facilities and cleanliness of changing rooms spaces differ between spit and sawdust gyms and MLCs as distinguished by Amy and James below: I am struck by the darkness and stale musky odour as I walk into the female changing rooms. There is no natural lighting or air flow and the deep putrid smell from a blocked drain mixed with the ammonic aroma of urine from the single toilet lingers, unable to escape. A couple of small dirty mirrors are placed randomly on the walls, one full length and the other head height, ready for the next selfie and Instagram

78  James Brighton et al. update. There is a small row of metal lockers with blue doors, most of which are dented and the locking mechanisms broken. Next to the lockers is an old stained cream sink covered in hair, above which a little travel hairdryer is attached to the wall. It’s cold. There’s a little heater that is releasing a burning smell, but it offers little warmth. A couple of blue plastic chairs are thrown in the corner. The toilet cubicle is open and I notice that the lock in the toilet door has been broken off. To many this might seem like a festering cesspit, but for me this is part and package of how this gym makes you feel. It’s basic and functional, yet I find it comforting, not too showy. I don’t worry about how I should be looking or what I should be doing. I just change and leave and get on with what I came here for. (Amy – reflection from a ‘spit and sawdust’ gym changing room) The changing room exudes luxuriousness, like something out of a country club or a five star hotel. Bespoke made sturdy wooden seating arranges space into privatised sections, each with their own large backlit mirror, hairdryer and selection of premium body lotions. The sleek lockers are made out of rich walnut wood, covered in a shiny veneer. Modern looking vertical sunbeds are seamlessly built into the cavities. There is a separate toilet and shower room, always fresh, clean and sweet smelling. Shower cubicles are distinguished from each other through misted glass with the corporate logo of the gym chain emblazed upon them. Branded shampoo and conditioner dispensers are attached to the walls. Pristine shiny white sinks are sunk into marble tops. A pile of fresh, fluffy lavender smelling towels are rolled and stacked up in the corner for members to use to dry themselves before depositing in a linen basket to be washed. The lighting is bright yet soft. I feel warm and comfortable. I want to take my time in here, enjoy the process, I think to myself. After changing and stowing my belongings in the spacious lockers, I pause for a second to choose the appropriate exit. One heads to the pool and spa area, whilst I need to take the other that heads to the gym floor. I head out feeling more relaxed than pumped up and ready for the strenuous workout I had planned. (James – reflection from a modern lifestyle club changing room) Amy’s experience of a spit and sawdust changing room was fleeting, a liminal space which she passed through quickly to get on with the purpose of going to the gym – her workout. This offers stark contrast with the opulence of James’s experiences in an MLC which provided a sense of escape, comfort and serenity, all of which contribute to the feelings of exclusivity of being in a ‘health club’. Changing room spaces therefore constitute an important part of the ‘whole package’ of the experience of going to the gym, changing ones mood before even stepping foot on the gym floor.

Gym spaces   79 Basic or lavish, within changing rooms people remove their clothes and transition into their amateur athletic roles, leaving behind their professional and domestic ‘realities’ outside of the gym (Hockey, 2019). The change into a purpose­-​­made, gym­-​­specific outfit from everyday clothing is a requirement of training and acts as a crucial symbol of ‘tuning in’ to the gym (Ingold, 2014). Changing also has an affective call on the body. Putting on light, tight fitting, sweat wicking gym attire awakens the body into being in the right spirit to work out, preparing it for the serious work to ensue. (Sassatelli, 1999a; b). In this regard, changing rooms operate as a ‘segmentation mark’, acting as spaces through which the external identities of its users are stripped, turning bodies into experiencing objects that can be moulded by personalised and serial training (Sassatelli, 1999a; b; 2010). In order to make these transitions, undressing is required, exposing the body to others. Within this private (the changing space is concealed and distinguished by sex) and public (members change together) space, gym users are granted intimate insight into others’ bodies and the rituals through which they maintain them. As Probyn (2000) distinguishes: … the locker room is one of the only legitimate spaces in which same­-​ ­sex naked bodies parade in intimate anonymity. Protected by a welter of codes about how and where to look, nonetheless strangers dress and undress, wash themselves, lathering breasts and bums in close proximity. (p. 20) Bereft of clothes, the messiness of real bodies, their markings, insecurities and vulnerabilities are revealed to the other, laid bare to admiration or ridicule. Usually undertaken in more privatised settings within the home, bodily rituals such as showering, urinating, excrementing, are exposed to scrutiny. Through these practices, individuals display their cultural competence to maintain various aspects of their bodies and identities (Sassatelli, 1999a; b), for example, by cleaning, moisturising, scenting, adorning and styling the body and its surfaces in acceptable ways. Revelations of the ‘body on display’ (Goffman, 1959), and an increasing importance of the perfectible body, invite gym users to undertake surveillance of their own and others’ gendered, sexed, raced, classed and disabled bodies. Ian has previously commented on the complexities of body presentation in regulating gendered and sexed behaviours in the changing rooms of MLCs (Wellard, 2009). Although one of the few social spaces deemed acceptable for same sexes to be naked together, the experiences of one’s body and the corporeal analyses of other naked bodies results in differing reflections and social displays. Alternative to a traditional sports changing room which occupies a seemingly mythological status, gym changing spaces present various gendered dilemmas due to the differing purpose of the activity: The main problem for the men using the changing room at the health club, however, was that they had to undress and, to an extent, display

80  James Brighton et al. their bodies for other men in a context which was not that of a sports team together before or after a match. It was not a musty, team changing room where a group of men could talk about the events of the match in an environment of exclusive maleness and team camaraderie. At the health club, the member, although attending under the auspices of keeping fit, was also taking part in an individual experience aimed primarily at the narcissistic pursuit of bodily enhancement. Consequently, there was something suspiciously ‘feminine’ about the health club that had to be countered and this was made all the more threatening by the need to expose the body to the gaze of other men. (Wellard, 2009, p. 58) Likewise, Swan (1999: 37) writes about the ‘wondrous’ worlds of male gym changing rooms as claustrophobic masculine and masculinising spaces. For him, gym changing rooms continue to evoke “the same feelings of sick stomach, dry mouth and muscular weakness” (p. 39) experienced in sporting changing rooms as he prepares his body for exercise. Observing the changing room practices of boys and men, he identifies three ‘ages of changing’: i) ‘Mervyns’ are older male bodies who unapologetically expose their nudity and are seemingly unaware or simply don’t care about acceptable rituals and codes of masculinising behaviour; ii) ‘Cocoons’ are young school age pubescent bodies in liminal stages of manhood who are conscious of surveil­ lance and physical judgement so cocoon their lower bodies in towels through fear of judgement and reprisal; and iii) ‘Mirror seekers’ are generally aged 18–30 years of age and are pre­-​­occupied with appearance of their bodies belittling other expressions of masculinity. In desperate need of a ‘mirror fix’, these changers revel in their own idealised forms of masculinity and project their nudity onto others, as observed by James in the following reflection: As I finish towelling my wet skin, three lads in their early twenties bustle in through the door with little regards for others and peel off their sweaty t­-​­shirts exposing their ripped, tanned and perspiring bodies. They laugh and joke about how much a “pussy” one was for not completing a heavy rep, before quickly turning their attention to the crass analysis of a female gym user’s bum. Such chat takes me back to my footballing days, in which changing rooms were ‘performative stages’ (Goffman, 1968) in demonstrating masculine bodily capability and heterosexuality. Whilst still hyper­-​­masculine, my experiences of gym changing rooms are different. I was not in danger of being pissed on in the showers by one of my team mates, having my appendage commented on or required to down a can of beer. Nevertheless I felt exposed to scrutiny under the wandering judging eye. At the time I use the gym (around 5–7 pm), the changing room is usually full of ‘mirror seekers’, jostling for position to demonstrate who is the biggest, buffest and most cut. “How was your workout?” asks one of them. “Pretty good, but still struggling with injury,” I reply. “Doesn’t

Gym spaces   81 really matter, you can still get fucking massive,” he empathised whilst dousing his skin in woody citrusy aftershave. “Too right!” I reply. “Can always do some curls for the girls!” The acceptability of my hetero­ normative response was met with a fist bump and a confirmation: “Better that than tri’s (triceps) for the guys!” As I turn around I notice a younger gym member in the corner absorbing the hyper­-​­sporno­-​­hetero­-​­sexual parade being enacted in front of him. (James – reflection from a gym changing room) Shaped by experiences of sporting changing rooms, James was able to respond appropriately to the cultural and embodied codes that were required to perform particular heteronormative, hegemonic forms of masculinity. Such performances granted acceptance and affirmation of (hetero)masculine competence, yet they were dangerous in transmitting exclusionary heterosexual ‘rules of changing’ to other members in becoming socialised into gym environments. Conversely, Ian has previously identified the ‘tabooness’ of (homo)sexual bodily performances within gym changing rooms (Wellard, 2009). Male gym changers are required to develop appropriate understandings of (hetero)masculinity in public spaces, regulating their gendered and sexed bodily performances and negotiating physical sensations (e.g. of showering or being naked) within the specific context and social surroundings of the changing room. As Ian further points out, although forms of capital could be achieved through masculine bodily performance in the gym (e.g. lifting heavy weights) and evidence of a developed physique (e.g. large biceps muscles), nudity in the changing room still risks exposing the body to embarrassment, by risking shame and the fear of presenting ‘unmasculine’ characteristics as evidence of homosexuality. Adding further complexity to heteronormative dynamics of bodily presentation in changing rooms in contemporary digitised times, is that what once remained within the localised private world of gym changing rooms is now broadcast through hyperspace onto the screens of phones and tablets to a global audience for comment through social media platforms as a form of prosumption (Millington, 2016; 2018). The post workout, engorged, sudoriferous body is in prime condition to capture and publicise to gain praise and acceptance. As Mazzetti (2016) observes after completing a ‘swole’ session in which muscles become engorged: After you have completed a swole session, what is the first thing you do? Drink a protein shake? Wrong. You unholster your iPhone and take a fucking selfie. Listen, if you do not post at least one selfie within thirty minutes of achieving a nasty pump, you will immediately and unmercifully lose all your gains. (pp. 60–61) Selfies proliferate in gym changing rooms as the body is fully pumped and full­-length ​­ mirrors and downlighting provide perfect conditions to capture

82  James Brighton et al. the moment and receive corporeal adulation. Self­-​­fashioned (re)presentations of the gym body are subsequently subjected to modification through adding filters. As Mazzetti (2016: 62) reminds us, the presentation of the ‘fit’ body “is 98% lighting; the other 2% is the sun effect on Instagram”. Reminiscent of the bodybuilder on stage in which surveillance is achieved through lighting, tanning and the ability to represent the body favourably through a series of poses (Richardson, 2012), post­ -​­ gym selfies are also fleeting and illusory. The picture of the body painted exists in hyperreal space in which distinctions between ‘real’ and simulation have collapsed (Baudrillard, 1994). This appears to matter little though as long as the illusion is supported with hashtags inviting the broader fitness community to buy into the masquerade and show their support and appreciation though ‘likes’ legitimising such performances. According to Hakim (2015), fitness related selfies have been termed ‘healthies’ and are aggressively accompanied with hashtags such as: #fitness, #fitspo and #muscle. Many of these tags refer to sexualised images of both men and women displaying their bodies in tight clothing or semi­-​ ­nude in various states of undress. For him, the rise in popularity in both the fashioning of muscular bodies and sharing images of them on social networking sites amongst men can partly be attributed to continued neoliberal austerity in which masculine privilege and gendered roles have eroded, leaving men to use gyms to work on their bodies in order to imbue them with physical forms of capital which are then communicated through self­ -​­ represen­ tations on social media platforms. Thus rather than the working class, mainly black men with limited opportunities for employment who became professional boxers as the only means of production that they truly owned, as was the case in Wacquant’s (2006) study, it is the visual (re)presentation of the body made through selfies or ‘healthies’ that predominates in the acquisition of bodily capital in contemporary ocularcentric times. In doing so, the private worlds of gym changing rooms are transgressed and insight given into important gym spaces in which fitness identities are imagined and constructed. Changing rooms are therefore important liminal, public/private spaces in gym cultures. Far from just a functional place to change, preparing individuals for exercise and enabling transition back into everyday domestic and professional roles, they inform embodied experiences as part of the ‘whole package’ of using the gym. Importantly, changing rooms act as panoptic and disciplinary spaces within which dominant constructions of gender, sexuality, age, class and physical attractiveness are learned, presented and performed. In doing so, idealised forms of physical perfectionism are enabled and promoted through (re)presentations of the body on social media made through changing room ‘healthies’ as a means to acquire social and cultural capital. However, other marginalised forms of physicality and bodily displays continue to be restricted and constrained in the face of these norms within these mystical gym spaces.

Gym spaces   83

The gym floor The gym floor can be defined as the main space in which gym practices take place. Like front desks and changing rooms, the rules of membership, knowledge shared on the body, and embodied fitness practices undertaken upon them are uniquely dependent on the type, geographical location and membership of the gym. The layout of the gym floor is important. Effective spatial organisation is essential in fostering inclusivity and creating an atmosphere in which users are able to concentrate on working out and able to forget about the normal duties and rules of their everyday social lives (Sassatelli, 2010). As discussed below, however, the layout of the gym can restrict participation through compartmentalisation and granting or denying access to particular forms of gym user who are required to make choices on what spaces of the gym floor to use. Traditionally, MLCs and globogyms are segregated into cardiovascular, free weight, fixed resistance, stretching and group exercise areas as demarked by the type and positioning of equipment, flooring and decoration. Alter­ natively, spit and sawdust gyms are predominated by free weights with little cardiovascular equipment. Spatial segregation is also delineated without physical boundaries, distinguished through the senses as ‘reverential spaces’ through which strict socio­-​­cultural dynamics operate, including gendered, sexed, raced, classed and aged bodily performances and demonstration of appropriate levels of fitness, knowledge and ability (Andrews, Sudwell  & Sparkes, 2005). This can be further elucidated by James’s visit to an MLC. Stepping out of the private/public confines of the changing rooms required entering the gym floor, joining a ‘social occasion’ (Goffman, 1963) and the requirement of the negotiation of these complex spaces: I always feel a pang of nerves as I step out into the gym. I’m not sure if this is my body’s response for preparing for exercise, or if I am aware that the eyes of others will be on me. This is especially the case in any new gym I attend as I can feel the inquisitive gaze positioning me as the ‘newbie’, ripe for additional scrutiny. My apprehension is further compounded as I will not be able to navigate my way around the gym environment as effectively as I would in my ‘home gym’ in which my bodily movements have been engrained by embodied routine over time. In more comfortable sur­ roundings my body ‘dis­ -appears’ ​­ (Leder, 1990), whereas here in these unfamiliar settings and in front of strangers I become aware of my bodily presence. I am reminded that bodily dys­-appearance ​­ is not only experienced materially as an ‘intracorporeal phenomenon’ but through social processes as part of an ‘intercorporeal phenomenon’ by sharing the same spaces and fields of perception of other gym users (Merleau­-​­Ponty, 1962). The display and performance of my body will determine if I am accepted or ostracised and afforded contribution to this social world. (James – reflection from a visit to an MLC)

84  James Brighton et al. In becoming subjected to division based on surveillance from others, on entering the internal world of the gym members enter ‘panoptic’ (Foucault, 1975) institutions under which boundaries are policed and fitness behaviours disciplined. Within spaces in which working on the body is the primary purpose, the panoptic reach is often extended from gym floors into other delineated areas, for example by having windows that overlook spin and dance studios and swimming pools maximising surveillance. Whilst some gym members seek to hide from inspection, others seek it through displaying their bodies by ‘peacocking’ their perfected bodies, attracting the admiring gaze of the other. To return to James’s reflection above, under surveillance he was conscious of the privileged body afforded to him as a white, ‘straight’ experienced male gym user in his mid­-​­thirties and how this enabled access into the masculine circle of weight trainers in this MLC: Within this high tech, civilised and civilising health club I am perfectly aware of what is deemed acceptable and unacceptable within certain spaces. However, I am here as I am working away from home and I still really need to work on my clean and jerk technique for the forthcoming CrossFit Open (described in detail later in this chapter). As I head to one of multiple water fountains, I lift my head up and survey the space. There is no designated platform on which to practise Olympic weightlifting movements, so I head over to the bench press and remove the bar, carve some room on the gym floor and load it with two 20 kg plates. They are not ‘bumper’ plates though so I know I will not be able to drop them or else they will break. I also recall how the last time I attempted clean and jerks in an MLC I was told that what I was doing was dangerous and that under no circumstances should I let the bar hit the floor. Conscious that there is no platform to mark my territory and that I cannot go too heavy and risk losing my balance, I pick the bar up. It does not feel right in my hands or rotate freely. Nevertheless I do a few hang power jerks to warm up.   As I complete a few reps I become aware that others are looking at me, wondering what I am doing. This isn’t a lifting gym and the movements I am running through differ from those being executed around me. I do a few more reps, this time getting progressively deeper in the hold position. I notice a few glances from some younger, more muscular ‘body shapers’ to my left. They are big guys, but I make the assumption that they are not competitive bodybuilders, but the big men on this ‘gym campus’ as their upper bodies are disproportionately developed in relation to their legs. They are following programmes which are handwritten in notebooks, enacted out within the confines of space and equipment available at the gym. As I head to the weights rack, one of this group affirms to me that this is his space. Refusing to move or acknowledge my presence, he stands still with his lats spread, dominating his territory, making me detour around his huge frame.

Gym spaces   85   I should know better than to play this masculine game I think, but I still can’t help myself. I need to prove my worth, and anyway it’s competition like this that makes me work harder and lift heavier. I might not be able to lift as much as these guys anymore, but I can legitimise my masculine physical prowess through the correct execution of complex movement demonstrating my lifting knowledge. I add some more weight to the bar and do a few heavier sets, this time purposely projecting out a few grunts into the air, thereby providing a sonic presence letting them know I am here and I am serious. After a few more sets, one of the big guys approaches me. “What are they, mate? They look fun. Can you teach me?” (James – reflection from a workout in an MLC) Typical of an MLC setting, spatial organisation was delineated through the type and arrangement of equipment. Within these arrangements, gym members became docile in their movements and programmes, which over time became embodied. That is, gym users fashioned their bodies and fitness through the space and equipment available in given gyms, their everyday ritualistic engagement structuring embodied practices as they learned to move across them via the development of habit over time (Merleau­-​­Ponty, 1962). Alternatively, without a specific lifting area available, I was required to forge space on the gym floor in order to complete my workout, in doing so disrupting material and socio­-​­cultural divisions and unique rules within the gym habitus (Bourdieu, 1977). By performing technical exercises that were uncommon in these settings, I accrued a sense of masculine physical capital through proving myself as an experienced weight trainer, legitimising my inclusion in the male hierarchy. These observations contribute to previous research on fitness cultures which has demonstrated how gym spaces are drawn through lines based on idealised gendered body work undertaken (e.g. Johnston, 1996; Sassatelli, 1999a; b; Craig & Liberti, 2007). Dworkin (2003: 132) for example identifies that the proportion of men to women in the ‘weight room’ is approximately 80/20 or 90/10. Distinctions of male dominance in these areas can further be made through tuning in to the sensory landscape, as Amy experiences in a spit and sawdust gym: Whilst not impossible, female gym members are required to negotiate their presence in far more complex ways in gaining access to free weight areas and in general, remain as ‘intruders’ (Bolin  & Granskog, 2003). You can sense that this is a male space. Many of the men are training in their work boots, high visibility jackets and torn tracksuit bottoms covered with paint or dust, having come straight to the gym from a day of manual work. The odours perspiring from their bodies are a mixture of festering stale sweat, earthy concrete, and sweet smelling pine residue. Their musty smell gets stuck in my throat; I can taste it on my

86  James Brighton et al. tongue. In addition to this olfactory terrain, the aural landscape is dominated by ‘banter’ which is also straight off the building site. This isn’t like an MLC; you don’t have to cover up, and you don’t have to make an effort to smell nice or conceal grunts of effort. For many, this is exactly what distinguishes it as an authentic gym; it’s not sanitised, just real bodies working hard. (Amy – Reflection from a free weights area) Gendered membership of free weights areas conveys the message that these spatial territories are reserved for men and processes of masculinisation. Boundaries are governed by strict gendered binary divisions, experienced through all of our senses, with female gym members’ participation restricted by the presence and behaviour of male gym members. Alternatively, research has also demonstrated how female gym users who possess adequate strength, lifting knowledge and muscularity are able to transgress free weight spaces – gaining respect and a sense of empowerment. (Bunsell, 2013). As discussed by two female gym members interviewed by Amy, however, even if female gym users are admired in participating in hardcore masculine dominated free weight spaces, they are still subjected to, and required to negotiate the oppressive ‘voye­uristic gaze’ (Mulvey, 1975) of male gym members: Being a girl lifting heavier weights, men don’t tend to, they just stay away, but they do tend to stare. There is definitely stares, and you do, like, feel them. The guys I’ve known since being in here will like come over and say “Well done” and you’ll just get the other guys that just kind of look and stare, which if I was a bit younger it would have bothered me but not anymore. (Charlie) You notice times when they [male gym members] are looking at your arse or something, so I just stare back, it’s that sort of look (pfft, raises eyebrow) which says “Yeah, come on then”. They normally back off … It’s knowing the person but when it’s a stranger you definitely have to be very assertive so they know where they stand. (Alex) As experienced gym users with strong, able bodies Charlie and Alex were able to gain membership to the free weight area and draw admiration from male members they had previously developed a sense of rapport with. However, they remained subject to gazes that served to sexualise and trivialise their achievement and repress their involvement within these spaces. The examples offered by James and Amy above highlight that although gym spaces are arranged along gender lines, they are also influenced by knowledge on fitness, ability, class and physical strength all of which are conveyed through display and performance of the body.

Gym spaces   87 It is interesting, then, that in response to recent stratifying fitness trends such as powerlifting, Olympic lifting and CrossFit (see below), lifting platforms and ‘rigs’ (apparatus to hang the body off and complete pull-ups and other gymnastic movements on), are being added to existing floor spaces as gym chains seek to ‘cover all the bases’ in attracting members. Whilst the segregation of these specialist spaces might appear progressive, without adequate knowledge or education on how to use equipment, such spaces often remain empty, or worse, used unsafely, foster dangerous movement practices. This is further exacerbated by the erosion of ‘fitness instructors’ who once imparted free advice being replaced with ‘expert personal trainers’, who under neoliberal arrangements operate individual profit generating businesses in which clients pay for the privilege of the transmission of fitness knowledge (Wellard, 2018). Consequently, without prior fitness knowledge, new gym users can be left daunted by gym space and equipment, especially in hardcore gyms that consist mostly of free weights. Analysis of the gym floor would not be complete without considering how these spaces are decorated, adorned and illuminated. As indicated by Amy’s reflection in the introduction to this chapter, mirrors are meaningful in gyms. By reflecting light, they are used to create illusions of space, making gyms appear vaster, brighter and more open than they actually are. Primarily, however, mirrors are important apparatus through which gym members enter processes of self­-surveillance ​­ by checking correct lifting techniques, admiring muscular ‘gains’ and revelling in the narcissistic voyeuristic pleasures from observing reflections of their own pumped­-​­up bodies. As Haelyon  & Levy (2012) discuss, mirrors in fitness spaces are dictated by institutional and corporate guidelines, with the underlying assumption that their placement will encourage effort and increase performance by reflecting the ‘body as machine’ and provide important visual feedback that will help ‘it’ become more efficient. Mirrors are particularly important as part of the ‘process’ of bodybuilding in establishing optimum size, proportion, symmetry and vascularity of musculature and the fluidity of posing routines (Richardson, 2012). Likening a good bodybuilder to a good sculptor in the film Pumping Iron (1977), Arnold Schwarzenegger indicates the key role of mirrors in the gym in establishing progress: “You look in the mirror and you say, okay, I need a bit more deltoids, so that the proportion’s right, and you exercise and put those deltoids on, whereas an artist would just slap on some clay on each side”. Like bodybuilders, gym members use mirrors to develop ‘pictorial competence’ (Bourdieu, 1991) by making particular choices on what types of body are meaningful within the ‘habitus’ of particular gyms (Monaghan, 2001). In providing visual evidence of the progression made towards one’s self­-​­reflexive body project, the reflection seen in the mirror is emotive, influencing body– self relationships over time and influencing self­ -esteem, ​­ motivation and adherence to training. As Haelyon  & Levy (2012) illuminate, however, mirrors are not just glass fragments that reflect objective reality but produce reflections that

88  James Brighton et al. distinguish how the gaze shapes the body and the subject in the gym. They demonstrate how female gym users present and re­ -​­ present their bodies under the gaze of the self and become aware of the surveillance of the other over private mirror gazing. Consciousness of ‘gazing on the gaze’ serves to regulate behaviour and distinguish bodies as perfect or imperfect through stigmatising the very act of gazing which is deemed as ‘physical narcissism’, or as one of their interviewees described it, “a forbidden affair between me and the mirror” (p. 1204). Given the above importance placed on self­-​ ­reflection in gyms, it is unsurprising then that within some chains, mirror arrangements and conditions are manipulated to make the body look favourable, which depending on the area of the gym, involves making bodies look bigger (free weights area) or smaller (cardiovascular areas). Assisted with downlighting creating shadows over ripples of muscle, these illusions have an important influence in how individuals experience the gym floor and develop relationships with their bodies and training. Finally, the décor in gyms conveys particular discourses influencing our experience. In MLCs and globogyms, decoration is mainly drab, dull, consistent and corporate. Glass encased posters are hung on walls, usually offering personal training or promoting other profit generating services. Most of the images are of young, able­ -​­ bodied, mainly white, subtly muscled, ideally gendered bodies covered in sheens of sweat, coyly smiling whilst they exercise moderately, covered in branded clothing. There is little in terms of knowledge or education, other than instructions on how to use machines or notices demanding users put their weights away. You could enter one of the gyms in the chain across the country and aesthetically, at least, it would feel very similar. Alternatively, in privately owned gyms, there was a lot more freedom, creativity and individuality in decoration as demonstrated in the observation by James below: This was a hardcore gym and a shrine to the golden ages of bodybuilding. Walls were covered with posters of the ‘mecca’ (Muscle beach in Venice, California), past and present Mr Olympias and superheroes. The stars and stripes hung from the ceilings. A celebratory homage to the roots of bodybuilding, here you can work on your body in the pursuit of hope, liberation and economic success and join the American dream. Whilst I am in here, I too enjoy buying into this sense of hope. In particular, murals of hyper­ -​­ muscled, hyper­ -​­ virile superheroes such as Superman, Spiderman, Batman and Captain America dominated the walls of many independent gyms (Figure 5.3). These larger than life, indes­tructible, eternally young, fictional characters reflect the impregnation of bodybuilding on Western imaginations of masculinity and strength. As Taylor (2007: 354) discusses, superheros’ “glistening musculature, their glorious, anguished contortions, their endless posing … are preening bodybuilders in capes and spandex” – their presence on gym walls reinforcing the desirability of

Gym spaces   89

Figure 5.3 Working out and hanging about with superheroes. Photograph courtesy of Fiona Cole Photography.

engendered, sexualised, fetishised bodies. In being “excessive and disruptive to the acceptable physiological norm” (p. 357) they promise transmogrification and feed the illusion of gym bodies being able join the realms of being ‘super’ through development of a imperial sense corporeality. In working out alongside their heroes therefore, gym members are encouraged to join this fantasy world, harnessing strength and indestructibility of characters emblazoned on the walls. Having discussed the spaces within MLC and ‘spit and sawdust’ gyms, the focus of analysis will now switch to a contemporary fitness phenomenon, CrossFit, in which spatial arrangement and knowledge on fitness and the body that predominate is challenged. In doing so, CrossFit is positioned as a good example of a reaction to the broader expansion of gyms and the lack of a clear identity by offering a tangible fitness ‘identity’ for gym goers and also a claim to returning to an ‘authentic’ version of fitness training.

CrossFit spaces In opposition to the forms of controlled and regulated fitness promoted in MLCs and globogyms, there has been a recent resurgence in minimalist primordial functional training in which the body moves more freely and organically as ‘it was intended to’. These fitness movements are undertaken in outdoor green spaces as well as purpose built indoor facilities and include,

90  James Brighton et al. for example, British Military Fitness (Mansfield, 2009) and bootcamps (Gimlin & Buckingham, 2019). Perhaps the most prevalent example of these modern primitivist forms of fitness is CrossFit and the ‘boxes’ in which it is undertaken, which at first impression can be seen to have emerged as a reaction to the forms of controlled and regulated fitness promoted in MLCs. As reinforced by Edmonds (2019: 8), “Central in definition of the CrossFit box, is in its relation to what it is not, a modern commercial (globo) gym.” As will be discussed, CrossFit has emerged most successfully amongst activities in the second boom of fitness because it is highly organised and offers a tangible form of fitness training with a recognisable identity. Established in 2000 by Greg and Lauren Glassman1 in Santa Cruz, California, CrossFit is an interdisciplinary approach to fitness combining elements of multiple sports including Olympic weightlifting, gymnastics and athletics. In creating CrossFit, Glassman (2002), a former gymnast and personal trainer, sought to re­-​­address ‘fitness’ and provide logical ways of measuring it. He found that ‘fitness’ was a contested and multifaceted term, often constructed through established and essentialist understandings of who was deemed ‘fit’ for a given sport or activity in alternative spaces as a result of social and cultural constructions over time. Central to these observations were how modern MLCs and globogyms did not produce ‘fit’ people. Rather, gym users were being restricted in reaching their fitness potential through the forms of equipment available, spatial organisation and the docility of movement routines and programmes that were engrained within them. As ascertained by Herz (2015) in her commentary of CrossFit, gym goers had become accustomed to low intensity exercise and diluted movement patterns completed on fixed resistance machines, becoming docile to dominant fitness discourses: … the way we allow health club machines to stabilise and limit our range of movement, to literally keep us on track, leaves us less purposeful. The abandonment of complex movement and physical intensity has rendered us, in some fundamental way, less intelligent. We have been kinaesthetically brainwashed by the machines that are supposed to make us fit. (p. 33) Glassman sought to challenge these institutions and the fitness practices undertaken within them by developing exercise intensity and movement patterns that represented a return to ‘primordial’ methods such as lifting of free weights, moving body weight in alternative ways and completing maximal all­ -​­ out efforts to physical failure. Within the mediated sur­ roundings of MLCs, Glassman’s new methods were met with hostility. Weights clanged to the floor, grunts cut through the air, and movements transgressed structured gym spaces (Murphy, 2012). The intensity at which Glassman’s clients worked appeared to pollute the civilised setting, acting as

Gym spaces   91 an intercorporeal signifier to other gym goers of their unwillingness to move beyond the comfort of their own practices. He therefore opened his first CrossFit specialist space in Santa Cruz, California in 1995, which he termed a ‘box’. In comparison to the well­-​­equipped MLC, the box was a mini­ malist, boundary­-​­less, largely empty fitness space. It was here that Glassman honed his methods and aimed to legitimise an all­-​­encompassing definition of fitness that was informed through bio­-​­scientific principles, a ‘truer’ test of fitness based on certain physical skills and physiological determinants (see Chapter 7 for discussion). Glassman figured that a more efficient way of experiencing his new fitness methodology was for two or more clients to join together to form a group training session. Clients would pay less and he could charge a higher hourly rate. Experiencing success, in 2002 Glassman began to preach his ‘new’ version of fitness and health, providing the knowledge to others who were then able to open up their own boxes under an ‘affiliate’ system. This decentralised approach allowed box owners to pay an annual fee for the CrossFit brand2 rather than profit sharing as would be the case in a franchise. With no central coordination or top down management (Herz, 2015), freedom was afforded to owners to interpret CrossFit’s values as they wished, resulting in boxes varying in personality, equipment, quality of coaching, class size and emphasis (Murphy, 2012). Believing that the free market provides adequate quality control, under this neoliberal position emphasis centred on the risk and hard work of owners and coaches to provide internal quality and brand integrity. Glassman reasoned that boxes that have lazy owners, poor coaching and fail to follow the CrossFit ethos will inevitably lose members and close. Today, in order to gain affiliation, owners must gain a Level One CrossFit Coaching Qualification which covers the essentials of CrossFit over the duration of a single weekend at a price of US$1000. Once this certificate is issued, all that is required is liability insurance, an affiliate website and payment of the annual fee.3 Since 2002, there has been a meteoric rise in CrossFit box ownership. By the end of 2005, 13 affiliates had opened. In 2012 there were over 4000, and in 2018 there are almost 13,500 affiliates (https://map.crossfit.com). Due to this stratospheric and unparalleled growth in the fitness sector in the last decade, CrossFit can make a legitimate claim to be the “biggest global fitness movement in the 21st Century” (Dawson, 2017: 361). CrossFit is commonly completed in a mixed sex class setting supervised by a coach, or coaches depending on the size of the class (1:10 coach­-​­athlete or less recommended). Individuals can also undertake CrossFit inde­ pendently of a box by completing the prescribed workout of the day (WOD) placed on CrossFit.com4 in home gyms or remote fitness spaces. WODs vary in length of time (1–60 minutes) and are usually completed against the clock and incorporate a staggering range of movements including body weight exercises (e.g. push­-​­ups, sits­-​­ups, burpees), lifts (e.g.  deadlift,

92  James Brighton et al. squat, push press, shoulder press, chest press), Olympic lifts (clean, jerk, snatch) and gymnastics (e.g. toes to bar, handstand press­-​­ups, muscle­-​­ups). These movements are often interspersed with cardiovascular stimulus from running, rowing or skiing on an ergometer, to cycling on an aerodyne bike so that they are performed under intense cardiovascular duress. Boxes reflect these needs and are characterised by open spaces with large metal pull up rigs attached to the floor, gymnastic rings and climbing ropes hanging from the roof, wooden boxes (often splattered in blood) lining the walls and Olympic lifting bars, kettlebells, dumbbells, bumper plates, medicine balls and skipping ropes stored in corners (Figure 5.4, Figure 5.5). Mirroring the “spartan beginnings” of Glassman’s first garage box (Washington & Economides, 2016: 144), in many ways CrossFit boxes are therefore reincarnations of the original Turnplatz. Some early boxes even opened in empty shipping containers, represented by the original packaging of the legendary Reebok Nano CrossFit trainer. Partly due to the size, low rents and noise ‘pollution’ (loud music, dropping weights and corporeal emissions), historically boxes have tended to materialise in repurposed industrial and commercial premises on the outskirts of cities and towns. As Edmonds (2019: 5) recognises in his analysis of the spatial location of CrossFit, each box is therefore “uniquely designed and adapted to the space within which it is housed” and is characterised by a rejection of certain

Figure 5.4 Typical CrossFit Spaces (CrossFit P10, England). Photograph courtesy of Nicole Vanner Photography.

Gym spaces   93

Figure 5.5 Typical CrossFit Spaces (CrossFit Café, Virginia Beach, USA).

forms of technology as they do not conform to the minimalist aesthetic of the nostalgic garage gym. As Edmonds (2019: 6) further highlights, mirrors do not adorn box walls as they do in MLCs and globogyms, shifting focus from “the aesthetic self­-​­gaze” and re­-​­directing it onto the coach who helps develop kinaesthetic awareness and being present in the movement and

94  James Brighton et al. moment. Importantly, members are encouraged to develop an ownership of both the space, for example by taking out equipment, cleaning it and returning it, and caring for members’ fitness as part of a ‘community’. Embodied experiences of ‘doing’ CrossFit are explored in detail by James in Chapter 7; here, however, we hope to have presented an oppositional emerging fitness space to more established spit and sawdust, MLCs and globogyms.

Summary In this chapter, MLCs and spit and sawdust gyms were identified as predominant gym spaces. Within them, boundaries existed in material senses (e.g. through equipment and layout) but were also constructed as ‘reverential spaces’ constructed through and policed by socio­-​­cultural norms of gender, class, age, race and able­-​­bodiedness serving to separate and distinguish bodies. Accordingly, gyms structured and regulated fitness practices and enabled and constrained gym users in a number of ways. Although resistance and transgression of these divisive spaces are possible, individuals require adequate fitness knowledge and to display and perform the body in appropriate ways. Offering a challenge to traditionally organised gym space, CrossFit was introduced as an expanding fitness phenomenon with potential to transgress engrained spatial arrangements and (re)imagine contemporary notions of fitness and the body. In providing this spatial analysis, gyms are positioned as heterogeneous and evolving with unique social and cultural dynamics consisting of a complex mixture of public and private, material and imagined, intimate and exposed, inclusive and exclusive spaces uniquely structuring embodied experience. Whilst we recognise that gym experience is clearly simultaneously ordered through the temporal, and that the atmosphere, crowd and fitness practices undertaken are all subject to the time at which one enters and exits the gym, thereby distinguishing and including and excluding bodies, such discussion is beyond the boundaries of this chapter. Such exploration warrants further analysis, especially approaches that are made through visual, olfactory, acoustic and kinaesthetic sensorial terrains available to us as sentient gym bodies (Sparkes, 2010). Now that we have conceptualised gym bodies, provided historical context, and provided analysis of contemporary gym spaces, we each offer one example of ‘doing’ a gym­ -​­ based practice, starting with Ian’s experiences of being personally trained.

Notes 1 CrossFit was created by Greg and Lauren Glassman, but they subsequently divorced and Greg took over the company. Further references in this chapter relate to Greg Glassman. 2 $500 for the first boxes; currently $3000 in 2018.

Gym spaces   95 3 Unless the box is non­-​­profit making (e.g. educational and/or military), in which case the fee is waived. 4 A WOD has been posted on CrossFit.com every day since 10th February 2001.

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96  James Brighton et al. Goffman, E. (1968) Asylums: Essays on the Social Situation of Mental Patients and Other Inmates. Penguin, Harmondsworth. Greif, M. (2017) Against Everything: On Dishonest Times. London  & New York: Verso. Haelyon, H.  & Levy, M. (2012) Mirror, mirror on the wall: the women, the gaze and the fitness room. Sport and Society, 15 (9), 1196–1208. Hakim, Jamie (2015) “Fit is the new rich”: male embodiment in the age of austerity. Soundings: A Journal of Politics and Culture, 61 (Winter), 84–94. Herz, J.C. (2015) Learning to Breathe Fire: The Rise of CrossFit and the Primal Future of Fitness. New York: Penguin Random House. Hockey, J. (2019) Everyday routines as transformative processes: A sporting case. Sociological Research Online, 24 (2), 219–234. Ingold, T. (2014) That’s enough about ethnography! Journal of Ethnographic Theory, 4 (1), 383–395. Johnston, L. (1996) Flexing femininity: Female bodybuilders refiguring “the body”. Gender, Place and Culture, 3 (3), 327–340. Leder, D. (1990) The Absent Body. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Lefebvre, H. (1991) The Production of Space. Oxford: Blackwell. Liokaftos, D. (2017) A Genealogy of Male Bodybuilding: From Classical to Freaky. New York: Routledge. Mansfield, L. (2009) Fitness cultures and environmental (in) justice? International Review for the Sociology of Sport, 44 (4), 345–362. Mazzetti, D. (2016) The Swoly Bible: The Bro Science Way of Life. New York: Plume. Merleau­-​­Ponty, M. (1962) Phenomenology of Perception. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul. Millington, B. (2016) Fit for prosumption: Interactivity and the second fitness boom. Media, Culture & Society, 38 (8), 1184–1200. Millington, B. (2018) Fitness, Technology and the Body: Amusing Ourselves to Life. London: Routledge. Monaghan, L. (2001) Bodybuilding, Drugs and Risk. London: Routledge. Mulvey, L. (1975) Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema. Screen, 16 (3), 6–18. Murphy, J. (2012) Inside the Box: How CrossFit Shredded the Rules, Stripped Down the Gym and Rebuilt My Body. Boulder, Colorado: Velopress. Murray, E. (1980) Muscle Beach. London: Arrow Books. Pumping Iron (1977) [Film] George Butler  & Robert Fiore dirs. Los Angeles, USA & South Africa. White Mountain Films. Probyn, E. (2000) Sporting bodies: Dynamics of shame and pride. Body and Society, 6 (1), 13–28. Richardson, N. (2012) Strategies of enfreakment: Representations of contemporary bodybuilding. In: Locks A.  & Richardson, N. (eds.), Critical Readings in Bodybuilding. London: Routledge, pp. 181–198. Sassatelli, R. (1999a) Fitness gyms and the local organisation of experience. Sociological Research Online, 4 (3), 1–21. Sassatelli, R. (1999b) Interaction order and beyond: A field analysis of body culture within fitness gyms. Body and Society, 5 (2–3), 227–248. Sassatelli, R. (2010) Fitness Culture, Consumption and Everyday Life. London: Palgrave Macmillan. Scott, J.W. & Keates, D. (2004) Going Public: Feminism and the Shifting Boundaries of the Private Sphere. Urbana: University of Illinois Press.

Gym spaces   97 Smith Maguire, J. (2007) Fit For Consumption: Sociology and the Business of Fitness. London: Routledge. Smith Maguire, J. (2008) The personal is professional. International Journal of Cultural Studies, 11 (2), 211–229. Sparkes, A.C. (2010) Performing the ageing body and the importance of place: Some autoethnographic moments. In: Humberstone, B. (ed.), When I Grow Old: Third Age Leisure Research: Principles and Practice. Brighton: Leisure Studies Association. Spencer, D. (2012) Ultimate Fighting and Embodiment: Violence, Gender and Mixed Martial Arts. London & New York: Routledge. Swan, P. (1999) Three ages of changing. In: Sparkes, A.C.  & Silvennoinen, M. (eds.), Talking Bodies: Men’s Narratives of the Body and Sport. Jyvaskyla, Finland: SoPhi, pp. 37–47. State of the United Kingdom (UK) Fitness Industry Report (2016) London: The Leisure Database Company. Available at: www.leisuredb.com/publications (Accessed: 26th February 2020). Taylor, A. (2007) “He’s gotta be strong, and he’s gotta be fast, and he’s gotta be larger than life”: Investigating the engendered superhero body. Journal of Popular Culture, 40 (2), 344–360. Taylor, S. (2010) Narratives of Identity and Place. London: Routledge. Wacquant, L.J.D. (2006) Body and Soul: Notebooks of an Apprentice Boxer. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Washington, M.S.  & Economides, M. (2016) Strong is the new sexy: Women, CrossFit, and the postfeminist ideal. Journal of Sport and Social Issues, 40 (2), 43 –161. Wellard, I. (2009) Sport, Masculinities and the Body. London: Routledge. Wellard, I. (2018) Whose Body is it Anyway? A Sociological Reflection Upon Fitness and Wellbeing. Abingdon, Oxon: Routledge.

6 Being personally trained Ian Wellard

As outlined in the previous chapters, there has been a noticeable global increase in the presence of gyms and an accompanying ‘fitness industry’ eager to capitalise upon and encourage interest. It was also noted how the look and image of gyms has developed in an increasingly competitive market where crafting an identity that suggests an opportunity to experience something ‘different’ is considered important to remain successful. Indeed, there are a variety of spaces which might now be termed ‘gym’ with many far removed from the original hidden­-​­away spaces of the spit and sawdust (bodybuilding) gym. Consequently, the simple disclosure that one frequents a gym is now much more complex and can take on a variety of forms. Alongside the development of the gym in the twenty­-​­first century has been the growth of the personal trainer as a regular fixture of a gym (in whatever form it takes) (Figure 6.1). The personal trainer is presented as an ‘expert’ within the field and able to impart their assumed fitness knowledge on a (paying) client. In this chapter I will explore personal training as an increasingly ever­ -​­ present aspect of the contemporary gym and the subsequent embodied relationships that occur within the context of fitness training. Discussion is informed by my research conducted within the context of a sociological consideration of fitness and wellbeing (Wellard, 2018). Here the focus is upon the notion of being ‘trained’ by an expert and reflection upon the forms of knowledge generated within embodied social encounters such as these. The intention is that reflection upon my experiences of being personally trained will allow for discussion of the multiple embodied experiences of both personal trainer and ‘client’. Using the experience of personal training from the point of view of the participant allows for consideration of a particular relationship that is multi­-​­dimensional. However, the points raised are considered within a reflexive dialogue that recognises my own previous experiences of sport and fitness training so that acknowledgment of the contrasting ways in which individuals enter into the gym space can be made. Here, I am thinking of the variety of (fitness) backgrounds that one may have before entering into a personal training situation, such as a complete

Being personally trained   99

Figure 6.1 Personal training.

novice, a GP referral, a regular gym user or an athlete. The specific focus upon one­-​­to­-​­one training in this chapter can then be considered in relation to the following chapters (by James and Amy, respectively) which explore gym experience from the view of a participant in a group activity and that of the instructor in an exercise class.

Health knowledge and the fitness industry While the training of the physical body and engagement in sporting activities has an established presence in cultural history, albeit with varying interpretations and implementation at different historical stages, the notion of a fitness ‘industry’ is a relatively new phenomenon. As described in Chapter 2, the industry that is described today can be seen to emerge in its current form during the late twentieth century (Chaline, 2015) and is heavily influenced by consumption practices, to the extent that ‘going to a gym’ now appears compulsory in order to become a legitimate member of late modern, neoliberal, capitalist society (e.g. Sassatelli, 2010). An increased interest in the body, evident in twenty­-​­first century society, raises interesting questions about how knowledge relating to the ‘healthy’ or ‘fit’ body is generated and perpetuated. Shilling (2008) argues that social understandings of health and

100  Ian Wellard illness have changed over time. In particular, he explains how in Western society there has been a social transition from an initial understanding of a ‘sick role’ where being sick was understood in terms of the function it provided to society and how sickness was generated through a relationship to production and labour. In other words, how an ill person could be accommodated during a period of ill health and most effectively returned to the workplace. However, towards the end of the twentieth century the interpretation of sickness as a temporary deviation shifted towards a ‘focus on the imperative of maintaining health in order to conform to the values of an increasingly competitive and performative society’ (Shilling, 2008: 106). Drawing upon Frank (1991), Shilling describes how during the course of the twentieth century there was a gradual move towards a ‘health role’. This discourse of health differed from the sick role in that it was focused more upon ‘the maximisation of people’s productive capacities and the prevention of illness’ (2008: 106). This prioritisation of the prevention of illness and regarding healthy bodies primarily in terms of the capacity to work and their productiveness in relation to the economy can be seen to have influenced more contemporary understandings of healthy lifestyles. The emergence of forms of surveillance both at a social level and at a personal level have been detailed in more recent poststructural theorising, in particular Foucault (1978; 1979) and subsequent theorising of biopower (Rose, 2007). In addition, the emergence of broader political discourses that have eschewed neoliberal interpretations of consumerism maintaining the economy have also contributed to a particular form of a material body. Subsequently, the health role that Shilling speaks of can be seen as a significant aspect in the way that individuals understand and act upon their bodies. These changes in ‘thinking’ about the body and health can be seen to have created a greater emphasis upon individual responsibility for maintaining one’s body at its optimum level of fitness so that it can be most adaptable to ever demanding social roles and be able to seek out new opportunities for engaging in productive activities. Going hand in hand with a much more self­-​­interested focus is an increasing expectation that the health role is a ‘right’ which affords access “to a seemingly ever expanding quantity of health related products and services” (Shilling, 2008: 107). Within the context of sport it is interesting to note how both the notions of the sick role and the health role contribute to understandings of the sporting and fit body. However, these are not necessarily complementary but can be seen to operate in distinct parameters. In terms of the sick role, it might be argued that this still has resonance in the way that sickness is often understood alongside injury and in this way considered as a temporary interruption before getting back into productive sporting activity. The health role on the other hand applies itself within sport much more in the context of the contribution that physical activity and sporting activity can make towards an individual’s health and, consequently, their added productiveness within a broader work based economy.

Being personally trained   101 The increasing complexity of ‘health and fitness’ knowledge creates greater emphasis upon the individual to be in ‘control’ of their bodies (or health) and be informed about the most effective ways to gain or maintain fitness. Therefore, it becomes incumbent upon the individual to seek out knowledge that might provide access to achieving these goals. Bearing this in mind, the role of personal trainer can be seen to be a significant aspect in the process of gaining knowledge about the body. However, the relationships that emerge are not straightforward in terms of a more simplistic understanding of a one­ -​­ way process, like that of ‘jug and mug’ scenario, or, indeed, a buyer/seller relationship. These relationships are much more complicated precisely because of the conflicting forms of health knowledge operating in contemporary society. In my research into the experiences of undergoing a period of intensive fitness training (Wellard, 2018) I was able to reflect upon the physical, emotional and philosophical aspects of engaging in what might be considered an intimate personal training (power) relationship. While I acknowledge that the training I undertook was highly subjective, the process allowed for me to consider the notion of such a relationship and the many multi­-​­dimensional forms that such relationships generate. These reflections enabled further consideration about the ways in which knowledge about the body is interpreted and reiterated in particular ways. The process of being trained compelled me to embrace a range of physical and social experiences which allowed me to consider the implications of putting myself ‘in the hands’ of the trainer. It is important to note that in these circumstances, and within this context, I was complicit in this relationship of power and allowed myself to be at times subservient because I recognised that I had something to gain from this exchange. Being able to unpack my relationship to the training, in an acknowledged subjective context, assisted further consideration of the relationships that are forged within the context of many other gym spaces and settings where those engaging are entering with different expectations and motivations and where other factors might be more significant (such as losing weight, altering outward physical appearance or, from the perspective of the personal trainer, generating income from ‘clients’). However, before I go further, it is also important to acknowledge the competing forms of knowledge that operate outside of the relationships which develop during a one­-​ ­to­-​­one encounter, knowledge that, nevertheless, bears significance upon the initial shaping of the context. During my reflections upon fitness knowledge (Wellard, 2018) I created a simple diagram to help my thinking about the competing forms of relationships that are operating between groups that share at face value common goals. It is worth repeating it here (see Figure 6.2). The relationships that operate between these groups (as well as many others) are dynamic and constantly shifting. There are, however, forms of power that can be seen to be more beneficial to one group than another. These are indicated by the direction of the arrowheads in Figure 6.2. The diagram shows some of the competing forms of relationships and

102  Ian Wellard

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consequent knowledge that is existing before we even take into consideration the ‘client’ or person being trained. Consequently, placing myself in the position of ‘being personally trained’ helped me reflect upon the way in which I had previously perceived the role of personal trainer and, subsequently, how the role might be contemplated in various ways. My previous perceptions of personal training had been developed through making a comparison with established roles, such as a coach, teacher or doctor. These were understood in terms of my awareness of the social prestige that is conferred upon these identities and how the knowledge associated with ‘professional’ qualifications provides reassurance to the public that those claiming these titles have done so after going through a rigorous form of training and gaining nationally recognised qualifications. Smith Maguire (2008) explores the role of professionalism within the context of personal training. She sees this as a discursive construction which is particularly revealing because of the tensions between that of providing a professional, service­-​­based activity whilst also adopting more entrepreneurial aspects of selling a specific service. According to Smith Maguire, personal training is interesting in that personal trainers are paid to design and facilitate personal fitness programmes on a one­-​­to­-​­one basis. It is their position though within a consumerist discourse that places them as almost intermediaries between paying clients and the broader, larger fitness and exercise industry. She notes how “personal trainers help to educate consumers in a particular view of the body as a vehicle of self­-​­expression and a focal point for consumption” (Smith Maguire, 2008: 212). For Smith Maguire, in general, socio­-​­cultural research on fitness and aerobics has tended to focus upon the participants rather than the practitioners. This is an important point and may help to explain why understandings of personal trainer/client relationships are more often than not described in terms of a binary where the personal trainer ‘does’ things ‘to’ or ‘for’ a client. While this is relevant, the personal trainer can also

Being personally trained   103 be considered a participant in as much as they have invested the same values and ethos and discursive constructs that they are promoting. Motivations such as these might contrast with the notion of an entrepreneur who is interested in making profit rather than necessarily participating in or with the product that he or she promotes and sells. It could be claimed that, to a greater degree than a traditional teacher, the personal trainer needs to be seen to engage and practise what they preach. For it is the case that much of the knowledge they display is initially presented through a body that has been perfected and is identifiable as representing ‘fitness’. In contrast, a school teacher does not necessarily need to ‘demonstrate’ their authenticity in such obvious ways as the status of ‘teacher’ brings with it understanding of prior learning and legitimate qualifications. However, in more recent years it is noticeable that there has been a concerted shift within the fitness industry to establish training routes and standard qualifications. Through analysis of personal training texts, Smith Maguire incorporates Bourdieu’s (1986) theory of distinction and in particular the notion of cultural intermediaries who present and represent as institutions providing symbolic goods and services. While her arguments have relied upon more traditional discursive structures relating to forms of professionalisation that influence the way personal training has been developed, an important point she raises relates to the ways in which the industry of personal training has been characterised by normative codes “that place service before self­ -​ ­interest and justify the prestige of the profession by reference to a greater social cause” (2008: 217). The point here is that personal training tries to sell itself in terms of a public service. As such, its selling point is related to the idea that it is providing something that is of benefit to the public and, in doing so, attempts to align itself with other public services located within health. While Smith Maguire’s arguments adopt a Bourdieusian lens, they also suggest to me the relevance of Pronger’s (2002) discussion of the techno­ logies of fitness. He provides a detailed interpretation of the discursive con­ structs of the fitness industry. These discourses of knowledge or ‘techno­ logies of fitness’ (Pronger, 2002) are generated through what he describes as ‘five texts’: 1 Government fitness initiatives, policies, and position statements on health like recommended PA levels 2 Articles, textbooks and educational resource materials (such as Sport Science) 3 Popular magazines, books, and videos on fitness and health 4 Exercise prescriptions, health appraisals, sport and fitness equipment, the tools used to monitor, control, and increase fitness levels 5 Popular media representations of the ‘fit’ body (Pronger, 2002: 123)

104  Ian Wellard Personal trainers, as central representatives of health and fitness knowledge, are pivotal to the dissemination of this intertextual ensemble. It might also be suggested that they are in far less of a position to challenge or provide any level of academic ‘resistance’ as it is neither in their interests to do so nor included in their training as a form of critical reflection (although this may not be necessarily the case in current medical and teacher training). Consequently, the identity of the personal trainer is complex precisely because it is operating through a range of discourses relating to a healthy body, contemporary formulations of an attractive, desirable body as well as aspiring to be a public health promoter and entrepreneur. The increase in the popularity of fitness related pursuits provides further support to Shilling’s claims about the shift in thinking about health as well as a body that can be perfected (Shilling, 2008). The notion of a perfectible body has been explored extensively in post­-​­structuralist theory (Low  & Malacrida, 2008), but in the case of fitness, Pronger’s (2002) use of the work of Foucault in illuminating a form of body fascism where the ubiquity of the perfect body creates a panoptic effect as individuals watch over themselves for any deviations from these norms provides a compelling argument. For him, using a gym and committing to a ‘body project’ is therefore not exclusively an expression of individual agency, but is policed through the adherence, or docility, to dominant cultural discourses (Foucault, 1979). A focus on discourse is important in the process of recognising how understanding of the gym, or participating in a gym, has been socially constructed. However, it could be argued that such accounts are discur­ sively essentialist and fall short in representing the fleshiness of embodied experience. Indeed, as Pronger acknowledged, often it is the case that more embodied aspects of physical activity are overlooked. For instance, in the case of gym related practices, subjective aspects such as pleasure or desire are not featured in any discussions of how an individual might experience being active, except negatively where fitness is constructed as strategic in the control of desire (“the desire to indulge in delicious, fattening foods, for example”, Pronger, 2002: 8). Pronger therefore suggested that a positive sense of the body’s pleasure and desire could make a significant contribution to developing a greater understanding of the body.

Embodied approaches: filling in the gaps While the contribution of post­ -structuralism ​­ to our understanding of knowledge is obviously relevant, discussion about discourse is always going to be abstract and although the notion of the body as a focus of power relations has been established, there is still room for further discussion relating to embodied experience. The discussion above has been very much about knowledge and discourses of fitness and although some sociological ‘purists’ might baulk at incorporating theories derived from competing trajectories (for instance, Bourdieu and Pronger mentioned

Being personally trained   105 above), the knowledge that is available to me has influenced the way that I am able to approach and take part in sport and physical activity. However, rather than feeling compelled to adopt an exclusive specific theoretical pathway, recognising the prevailing knowledge structures is a starting point in my quest to understand in more depth fitness cultures and my desire to engage, and keep engaging. Consequently, our interpretation of embodi­ ment in this book is that of an ‘umbrella’ approach, as outlined in Researching Embodied Sport (Wellard, 2015). It is also relevant to note that we have no intention of making this book into some form of health promotion pamphlet. Indeed, there are many aspects of our engagement in physical activity that might be considered not necessarily conducive to overall physical health or wellbeing. The point being made is that the generalised messages about healthy, physical activity behaviours informed as they are through objective evidenced based research do not accommodate enough recognition (if any) of the subjective and experiential factors that play such a significant part in any form of engagement in social and physical activities. Consequently, while we admit that we love ‘doing’ sport and physical activity, there are still times when we do not want to engage as enthusiastically, or even at all. From a personal perspective, there are many factors which influence the way that I choose to engage or not, such as the time of day, the weather, how I am feeling (physically and mentally), whether I feel like being with other people and so on. Nevertheless, when I am in the right frame of mind and my body feels up to it (which is more often than not), I enjoy the experience in many ways (see Wellard, 2013). However, while I am an advocate of the ‘joys’ of taking part in physical activities, I remain sceptical about uncritical promoters of health related physical fitness who appear to believe physical activity is an unproblematic direct line to wellbeing and can be readily incorporated into everyday routines, regardless of the individual’s circumstances. Much of this suspicion about many of those who preach the (unproblematic) benefits of fitness is that they fail to acknowledge how an individual creates corporeal understandings of their own body and the significance that this plays in developing understandings of their own and others’ physical identities. For instance, when thinking about embodied experiences within the gym, I suggest that an embodied approach helps assist in developing a theoretical position which acknowledges the role of the body in shaping external practices. More specifically, a form of embodied understanding that incorporates a social constructionist approach, but also includes the lived, feeling body within social processes (Wellard, 2013; 2015). The embodied approach presented in this chapter draws upon Connell’s (2005) initial concept of a circuit of body­-​­reflexive practices which acts as a starting point for understanding how social and cultural factors entwine with individual bodily experiences. Body­-​­reflexive practices, for Connell,

106  Ian Wellard are formed through a circuit of bodily interactions and experiences via socially constructed understandings of the body, which lead to new bodily interactions. She argues that the corporeality of the body needs to be accounted for within social theory, and “through body­-​­reflexive practices, bodies are addressed by social process and drawn into history, without ceasing to be bodies … they do not turn into symbols, signs or positions in discourse” (2005: 64). This circuit enables a greater understanding as to how social and cultural factors entwine with individual bodily experiences. Body­-​­reflexive practices for Connell are formed through a circuit of bodily interactions and experiences via socially constructed understandings of the body, therefore leading to new bodily interactions. Connell developed this approach as a means to explore the ways in which the gendered body had (has) been constructed through a masculine lens. In order to apply this concept more specifically to the moving body, I developed the notion of a circuit of body­-​­reflexive pleasures which enabled the possibility of incorporating an embodied approach to other practices, such as physical activity. I initially applied Connell’s concept so that I could understand the notion of a circuit of body­ -reflexive ​­ pleasures (Wellard, 2013), located in the context of the body, sport and physical activities. Within this context, I was attempting to explore the complex range of factors which contribute towards an individual’s experiences of pleasure (or not) when engaging in physical activities. Here, the intention was to highlight that, in order to understand a person’s experience of sport, greater acknowledgement needs to be made of the social, psychological and physiological processes that occur in any situation, and how each may influence the experience in varying levels. In this case, a central part of this circuit was considered pleasure where the interconnected factors related to engaging in a physical activity determine an individual’s experience and these have varying degrees of influence upon an experience. I was, subsequently, able to make further claims that different ‘times’ and ‘spaces’ impact upon how a certain activity is experienced as enjoyable. Considering space enables the opportunity to approach space and place as more fluid, and by doing so, challenges the often­-​­immobile developments of this concept. The acknowledgement of spatial and temporal factors within the circuit was incorporated so that I could develop a deeper understanding of how pleasure is more than an insignificant or ‘one­ -off’ ​­ moment of self­ -​ ­grati­fication. Pleasure can be considered a process in terms of how an experi­ ence can become pleasurable as well as a moment. Consequently, this circuit describes pleasure as a continuously moving process, and incorporates the inclusion of anticipation, experience and reflection. An individual’s orientation towards thinking about pain and pleasure has often been contextualised as a necessary and an essential element in performance progress. Thinking about the body this way has filtered into amateur sports and broader health and fitness industries. An example of this is the motivational aspects used within fitness training, where the mantras of ‘no pain, no gain’

Being personally trained   107 and ‘feel the burn’ are accepted (and expected) practice. Therefore, a more complicated relationship between pleasure and pain is present due to physical pain being re­-​­articulated by an individual so the experience can be re­-​ ­evaluated as a more pleasurable and positive way. The social context of how an activity (such as those performed in a gym) can be regulated in different social spaces highlights the various ways in which an individual’s embodiedness is experienced, particularly within sport and physical activity contexts. Consequently, adopting an embodied approach helps to incorporate the discourses of knowledge that create an orientation to a particular activity, but also allows moving beyond the abstract discussions by including the physical experience as well as the spatial context and the temporal aspects. It helps us dig a little bit deeper and recognise the various ways in which the individual internalises ‘outside’ forms of knowledge and acts upon them. Therefore, the relationship of a personal trainer and client is a useful example to examine such complexities as the encounter necessitates interpretation and embodied experiences of pleasure and pain by both parties. This knowledge is drawn from previous experience, expectation and anticipation as well as physical sensation at the time of the encounter. The examples included in this chapter draw upon the material generated from my experiences taking part in an intensive programme of strength and conditioning training which required the services of a personal trainer or ‘coach’ over a period of six months (Wellard, 2018). In this case, I was the one ‘being trained’ although on many previous occasions, in different contexts, I have been the ‘trainer’. Consequently, in approaching this period of training, I had to remain alert to my own perceptions of a training process and the role of the trainer as well as recognising my own orientation to sport and physical activity in the first place. For most of my life, tennis and swimming contributed to the formation of my ‘sporting identity’. I have always liked doing other physical activities, but these two sports tended to take priority. However, throughout my life I have always trained in some way whether this has been in terms of going to the gym or doing training that involved drills, cardio and flexibility. I have never really thought of myself as a sports fanatic but then again I imagine a lot of my friends would say that I am. Nevertheless, it is clear that sport occupies a large part of my life. Or maybe I should qualify that by saying it is physical activity rather than sport per se that is a big part of my life. In recent years, however, health related problems with my eyesight have meant that I have not been able to play tennis in the way that I have done in the past or would like to continue to do so. This has meant that I have been playing less and have substituted other activities to fill the gap. Going to the gym has therefore become one of the ways in which I have been able to fill this gap and as a consequence I have actively sought to further my knowledge about gym­-​­based fitness related activities. Prior to contemplating personal training for Whose Body is it Anyway? (2018), I had always thought that gym­ -based ​­ personal training was an

108  Ian Wellard interesting phenomenon, particularly from a sociological perspective in terms of its relationship to a highly commercialised ‘fitness industry’ in the way that Brian Pronger (2002) describes. Because of this, I had formed an opinion that personal training was different to traditional sports coaching and it is only during the process of writing the book that I had cause to consider why I had developed these views. So, while I had always valued the coaching I received in tennis, either on a one­-to­ ​­ -​­one basis or as part of a team, this view was generated through my understanding of coaching and the respect that I held for the skills and expertise of the coaches who guided me. I had not always been so convinced about the capabilities of the personal trainers that I have seen at the many gyms I have attended in the past and this influenced subsequent deliberations about whether I could trust placing ‘my body in their hands’. In the case of the research described here, the coach who guided me through my training I knew to be a very capable trainer and educator, with a substantial background in sport and exercise training and strength and conditioning. Reflecting upon this highlighted that there are many important considerations one has to make even before getting to the stage of taking part in an activity like this. Here, the notion of trust and the recognition of the dynamics of a one­-​­to­-one ​­ encounter highlight some of the complex relationships that operate in such situations. It is not just a case of ‘going to the gym’ or ‘getting a personal trainer’ but rather negotiating a series of social encounters that offer a range of contrasting outcomes. These relationships are very much what Foucault (1978) talks about when he describes relationships of power. These are relationships that are not governed by forms of straightforward dominance where one individual has power over another, but are much more complex and dynamic. A session with a personal trainer provides a good example, precisely because it highlights the forms of power that are not only operating between the participants but are influenced by a range of competing social discourses generated about the body, health, fitness, age, ability, consumer culture and so much more. From the outset I found that I really enjoyed the sessions. They were a combination of instruction and practice, along with some intensive workouts. I liked being pushed physically and also relished the serious focus, in particular, being in a learning situation. I enjoyed learning more about the capabilities of my body and being guided in routines and exercises that I had subconsciously (or probably consciously) avoided when training on my own. At the same time, I enjoyed the subtle forms of power relationships that I mention above, where I was the one that had to follow the lead and be told what to do, in the same way that I enjoy having opportunities to listen to a lecture rather than presenting one. The sessions, therefore, embraced a range of physical and social experiences and allowed me to feel comfortable putting myself ‘in the hands’ of the trainer. The important point here is that in these circumstances, and within this context, I was

Being personally trained   109 complicit in this relationship of power and allowed myself to be at times subservient because I recognised that I had something to gain from this exchange. I was, however, aware of the subjectivity in these accounts of my experiences and I am sure this is not always the case in the relationships that are forged within the context of many other gym spaces and settings where those engaging are entering with different expectations and moti­ vations and where other factors might be more significant (such as losing weight or income from ‘clients’). The following three examples are extracts taken from the personal diary that I maintained throughout a period of intensive training (see Wellard, 2018). They are included to highlight the subjective ways that physical activity is experienced, but also to reveal the more complex ways in which the discourses of health and fitness knowledge are interpreted and acted upon. Indeed, while my experiences are acknowledged as being highly subjective, it is with this in mind that further questions can be raised about how others might experience and interpret such forms of health and fitness knowledge – and the effect these have upon their bodies. 1

Shared pain The session started pretty well. It was my regular Friday session with my coach and during the previous week he had been competing in a large competition and, after having experienced the events, had returned with a number of ideas about how to change both his training and mine. He had been quite surprised about the volume of training that was needed, especially after having spoken to other competitors about the amount of training that they were doing. When he had asked them about how much training they do most were doing several sessions a day, while my coach had been doing five sessions per week. Subsequently he felt that we needed to be doing more and so on his return he had revised my training schedule so that I could build more sessions during the week. I don’t really mind doing more and I like having a structure to follow. The sessions that I had completed by myself on Monday and Wednesday this week had been tougher, but I could see the benefit of gradually pushing the intensity.   The one on Wednesday was especially tough as I had to do a final workout which was a timed session consisting of 100×40 kg back squats, 50 push­-ups ​­ and 25 pull­-​­ups. I had initially thought the hundred back squats would be really challenging but when I did do them I found that by pacing myself and breaking them up strategically I could get through them without difficulty. The next day, however, my legs were really sore. They haven’t been like this for a long time and while it felt satisfying that I had really done something and the evidence of my effort was apparent in the soreness, I was fairly tired when it came to the session on Friday. I suppose the thing I have to realise as well is that

110  Ian Wellard when James was talking to these other competitors it is difficult to know what else they are during the day. Do they have full­-​­time jobs? If they do, how are they really able to do five sessions a day? So, although I was feeling tired as well as sore in my legs I was still thinking that it would be good to do the session and that I would feel better afterwards. Also, I had in the back of my mind that I would have the weekend free anyway to recover.   After the initial warm­-​­ups and practice we moved on to the main workout. This was going to be a timed activity which included rounds of cleans, deadlifts and box jumps. We had a practice of each of the exercises and this included some box jumps. I was quite pleased that I could do the 30inch box, especially after struggling over the last couple of years with a meniscus injury. However, for this workout, my coach thought the 24inch would be better as the jumps would get harder later on in the session. The workout started well. I completed the cleans and then the deadlifts. At this stage, I was probably a little too eager to complete the round and instead of moving to the box step and positioning myself for the jump, I cut that corner and went straight into the first jump. I think because I was too far away, my feet only touched the side of the box step and in doing so slipped back off the edge leaving me to do a belly flop onto the box. During the fall I managed to scrape every part of my body on the wooden edges as I wrapped myself round the box step.   At first I thought I would carry on until I noticed my legs bleeding. My reaction as well as James’s was to just have a quick break, mop up the blood and then continue. However, while he went off to get some plasters, I noticed more grazes on my thighs and arms. I sat down and attempted to mop up the blood on my legs with the t­-​­shirt I had discarded earlier in the session. By that time I started to feel a little shaky and when my coach returned with the first aid kit we realised that it wouldn’t be a good idea to carry on. Apart from the physical pain (signalling to me that my body had been hurt), I felt annoyed that I had fallen, as well as slightly cheated that I couldn’t continue the session. Falling over was just SO inconvenient!   It was interesting, however, the thoughts that went through my head while I was sitting there with bleeding legs. When my coach came back with the first aid kit, he also had some paper towels to wipe the blood away. It made me think about social attitudes to blood. In this case it was my blood and for James it was someone else’s blood. Obviously, these things happen all the time, but in this instance the body is transformed into something ‘other’ especially in relation to how it was understood only a few minutes previously. I’m thinking here about the transition from an able, performing body to an ‘injured’ one that is not able anymore. While, in this particular case, my injury is probably only considered by everyone involved in terms of being a temporary event,

Being personally trained   111 the presence of blood was a stark reminder of a corporeal body that is fragile and could be damaged. This fragile body is in total contrast to the perception of a strong, capable and almost ‘immortal’ body that is performed in the everyday routines of CrossFit and most sports for that matter.   My bleeding legs also made me think about the social context of blood and the places in which it is acceptable. I’ve seen the rhetoric used to promote CrossFit as an activity where blood and sweat are the bywords for anyone who is ‘serious’ about the sport. At this stage, I’m not really sure how I relate to this. Maybe I have passed some form of rite of passage, although it wasn’t intentional and if that is the case, once is enough for me, thank you. 2

Internal struggles There seem to be a range of games that are played out inside my head. Much of these are concerned with what could be considered moti­ vational talk and attempts to work out strategies that could help me complete a set workout. My mind plays a big part in convincing myself or my body that I can actually physically complete a session. These mind games end up becoming forms of operational strategies whereby I try to work out the best way to be able to complete the activity. For instance, if it is an activity where I have to do as many rounds as possible in a set period of time (such as 15 minutes) I have to work out in advance the best way that I can go about undertaking the challenge. This invariably means working out a rough estimate of how many rounds I might be able to do within the period and trying to work out a pacing strategy so that I am able to set out a realistic time plan.   These are all pretty much straightforward thinking action plans, however these mental strategies become much more important when a workout suggests to me that I might have difficulties doing it or something in my mind tells me that it is going to be hard or even impossible to do. These set up internal struggles whereby I have to evaluate and debate inside my head the best course of action. In some cases the internal turmoil about whether I can or not do the session is overridden when I actually get started. As it often seems to be the case that when I do get started the physical dimensions kick in and the mental aspects become much more related to a motivational role. However, over thinking before starting an activity can sometimes cause procrastination and added frustration. In a way it is like standing on the edge of a diving board and looking down and then hesitating. Rather than just getting on with it (and diving in), the delayed reaction and period of hesitation allows any (of the many) doubts to kick in. Being aware of this doesn’t really help and ends up generating another mind game based around working out ways in which I can sidestep those initial feelings of doubt, insecurity and fear of failure.

112  Ian Wellard 3 Others Within the context of the training sessions it has become apparent that I’m also playing mind games with others. I mentioned before that I had become aware of the way in which I had to moderate the feedback that I give to my coach. Although I try to be as honest as possible in terms of how I describe the way I’m feeling physically after a session or how I evaluate the amount of effort that I needed to put into an activity, I am aware that the information that I offer will be acted upon in various ways. So I have to decide whether the assessments I make of something like a routine which involves lifting heavy weights is actually a fair indication of what I can do and that my coach will have understood my description in the same way that I do. Thus if I say something was pretty easy I have to be really sure that it was really easy because otherwise the way that my coach would interpret my assessment would be that I could do more and the intensity level should be raised. While I really want to progress as much as I can, I still have to play around with the doubts and fears that I am pushing myself too much. Therefore, I am aware that there is an editing process, albeit a very fast one, when I do provide feedback. The same applies to my response to a question about how I am feeling in relation to whether I am sore after the previous day’s session or have any specific pain. If I am asked this, I immediately deliberate upon what constitutes pain and end up plunging into an abyss of ontological conundrums.   Constant surveillance of the information that I provide to my coach (apart from making me seem neurotic) is not only a result of the uncertainties that I have about my performances and whether I am ‘making the grade’, but also indicates an embodied awareness that is being informed by external technologies of (what) a ‘fit’ body (should look and act like). Therefore, while I consider that the levels of trust formed between the coach and myself within the context of a coach/athlete relationship are not in question, what is highlighted is the significance of forms of communication and the ways that meaning is interpreted. If I do not have a clear idea of how I am feeling and performing (physically and psychologically) then it becomes even more difficult for the coach to accurately understand progress. Maybe, a problem here is overthinking – but sometimes it is difficult not to. The examples above were included because they highlight contrasting, but important, ways in which the experience of ‘doing’ fitness related activities can be influenced. Often, the physical is considered the main contributing factor to the overall experience. However, the social context and psychological internalisation of the activity provides a significant aspect that needs to be considered alongside the physical manifestations. Indeed, the social and psychological effects contribute to the physical experience.

Being personally trained   113 In the first example, what became apparent was that while one may be able to theorise about the possible ways in which the body might ‘feel’ and respond to the various sensations, in the case of being injured during the activity the embodied experiences produced a range of unexpected reactions. The implication here is that although theoretical arguments need to include discourse and language, they cannot ignore the embodiedness of such experiences. My blood (and experience of pain) was not only symbolic, it was ‘felt’ in that my physiological response meant that the activity had to be stopped – despite both myself and my coach wanting to continue. At the same time, the experience was shared by both of us. While the seeping blood belonged to me, my coach had to react to my injury and attempt to assess the extent of the injuries in relation to my capability to continue as well as a range of other constructions of knowledge about pain, injury and blood that he had developed in his role as a coach – as well as an athlete and a fellow human being. The complicated forms of self­-​­analysis that are mentioned in the second example once again reveal the ways that a simple (on the face of it) physical activity becomes at the same time a strategic manoeuvre with one’s own psyche. Similarly in the third example, the notion that I felt the need to weigh up my own responses to my coach suggests the complex forms of relationships of power that operate between a coach and athlete/client. If it is the case that I needed to, albeit, double­-guess ​­ how my coach would interpret my assessments of my performance, the favoured method for many health and fitness professionals is the use of a self­-​­response survey, such as the McGill pain questionnaire or Rate of Perceived Effort (RPE). Nevertheless, it is reasonable to assert that there are complicated relationships of power that affect the way that individuals can interact with others and, indeed, ‘exist’. These operate through forms of knowledge, economic power and formal and informal structures that contribute to the management of bodies and society (Shilling, 1993). However, this is where a more cautious approach to the application of accepted theory is required. For instance, a Bourdieusian approach would draw upon a Marxist influence which argues that there are dominant forms of power, available to certain groups that are consciously oppressing other groups. Within the case of the personal trainer/client scenario, it is difficult to fully understand a relationship that is not necessarily one of dominance of one over another. Indeed, it is hard to make a valid claim about who is ‘doing’ the exploiting of the other. Consequently, the umbrella approach offered by an embodied perspective allows for consideration of these initial questions about dominance alongside other theories that explore the forms of power that are operating (or prevailing) in order to understand how they are being acted upon or reacted to. To this extent, Foucault’s interpretation of discourses of power provides an equally relevant argument within the context of sport and physical cultures (Andrews, 1993; Smith Maguire, 2002). By taking into consideration discourses of power, it is suggested that

114  Ian Wellard rather than attempting to eliminate oppressive power, we must consider power as omnipresent in every interaction and action (Andrews, 1993) and instead of omitting power altogether, we must investigate how it is used within physical activity, exercise and sport (Markula, 2003). Foucault’s interpretation of power is useful because when he refers to it he is not referring to a ‘substance’. Instead he discusses power as a particular form of relation between people. The distinctive aspect of power is that some individuals can shape the actions of others, but not necessarily in a coercive manner. Therefore, my assessment of an appropriate response (and the implications for such responses) was built upon knowledge that I had generated about the role of a coach, both prior to and during my interactions with my coach. Through ever­-​­present inequalities, power relations are always provoking positions of power, but these positions are specific in each location, and changeable. Power is omnipresent. In addition, power is always coupled with resistance; this resistance is not external to power relations. In a similar way to power relations, though, resistance is not regular; it is moveable and changeable within the complex network of power relations (Foucault, 1978). Put in another way, a relationship of power is not an act upon another individual but rather it is an action upon another action (Foucault, 1978; 1979). For power relations to exist, the ‘other’ has to be deemed as an individual who acts, and a number of reactions, results and responses must be possible when faced with this power relationship. Power relations are entrenched into the whole society and within social structures and are never stable or finite (Foucault, 1980). Consequently, despite the notion that dominant groups, governments and social institutions possess power, Foucault (1978) argues that they only symbolise power which can be ended (Markula & Pringle, 2006). Foucault refused to understand power as something that was owned by some, and used to control those with no power (Andrews, 1993; Smith Maguire, 2002). He explained that these dominant groups do not simply inherit their dominant positions because of the power they possess, but instead they gain their dominance because of the changeable working and strategic use of ‘discourses’ (Pringle & Markula, 2005). It takes the analysis of history and power in order to understand these workings and gain the opportunity to change them (Markula & Pringle, 2006). The continued utility of applying Foucault’s genealogical approach to relationships of power is neatly summarised by Phipps (2014), when she describes the reason for her use of this approach in her study of contemporary feminism and body politics was fuelled by a concern with how the discussions themselves are constructed: the concepts and rhetorics or ‘regimes of truth’ (Foucault 1980: 131) deployed, the political allegiances being made, and their contextual conditions of possibility (Phipps 2014: 4). Posing these questions reveals the relationships of power that are ‘in play’ prior to and during a social situation such as personal training or the social space of a gym. Thus we might apply these questions to help us

Being personally trained   115 understand the knowledge structures at large which are shaping perceptions of wellbeing or what a healthy body should ‘look like’. In this case (as indicated in Figure 6.2 earlier) the institutions that are speaking are commercial industries, government agencies and fitness educators who are formulating how fitness can be developed, presented and sold. Each ‘group’ can be seen to have a broad ‘shared’ vision for the enhanced wellbeing of their ‘clients’. They are similarly linked through contemporary discourses of public policy, informed by a mix of medical and economic theory and generated through scientific and Western capitalist discourses. However, at the same time, each could be seen to have differing interpretations of what wellbeing is as well as contrasting agendas and ideas for how such a vision can be translated into practice. Marrying up all of these complex forms of knowledge with the subjective experience of the individual gym goer is a huge task, if it is at all possible. Nevertheless, Foucault made a step in the right direction by highlighting the futility of attempting to apply a single issue argument. Awareness of broader discourses (of, for example, the able body, gender and sexuality) allows the researcher to consider the implications that their embodied self has upon the proposed research as well as revealing the invariably limited ways in which the body can be expressed. This is where Pronger’s (2002) discussion about the limits that are placed upon individuals through dominating discourses can help us negotiate fears of stepping beyond the safe territory of a single theory. In terms of an embodied approach, there is more potential to look beyond the limits. In doing so, embodied approaches might provide the starting point to reveal such limits and develop ways to counter, for instance, uncritical neoliberal arguments about sport and sport capital which are often offered as positive and unproblematic especially in relation to the benefits of sport. Adopting an embodied, or enfleshed, way of thinking helps us to accommodate the more nitty­-​­gritty aspects of our everyday existence. Often this everyday existence is about negotiating and managing at an individual level as well as a social level the different experiences that are both positive and not so positive. As such, things like pain, shame, pleasure, aggression, social status, poverty et cetera have to be factored in to any of these considerations. Indeed, a central foundation for neoliberal arguments is based upon the relationship between the benefits of sport and the economy. This focus often overlooks (or consciously ignores) the embodied experience of the individual in its attempt to explore broader economic and political agendas. An embodied approach allows for consideration of the influence of these (and other) forms of knowledge structure but more in line with the effect they have upon the individual experience or, in other words, the broader everyday reality of embodied existence. In summary, the ideas presented in this chapter are offered as a mechanism to generate reflective and reflexive thinking about fitness cultures as well as embodied research and the research process. Ultimately, it is suggested that an embodied approach to researching sport and movement cultures provides a far more perceptive

116  Ian Wellard lens that can reveal so much more about our bodies and the (complex) world that our bodies move about in.

References Andrews, D.L. (1993) Desperately seeking Michel: Foucault’s genealogy, the body, and critical sport sociology. Sociology of Sport Journal, 10 (2), 148–167. Bourdieu, P. (1986) Distinction. London: Routledge. Chaline, E. (2015) The Temple of Perfection: A History of the Gym. London: Reaktion Books. Connell, R.W. (2005) Masculinities. Cambridge: Polity. Foucault, M. (1978) The History of Sexuality: An Introduction. Volume I. New York: Random House. Foucault, M. (1979) Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Clinic. London: Penguin Books. Foucault, M. (1980) Truth and power. In: Gordon, C. (ed.), Power/Knowledge: Selected Interviews and Other Writings 1972–1977. Pantheon: New York. Frank, A. (1991) For a sociology of the body: an analytical review. In: Featherstone, M., Hepworth, M.  & Turner, B. (eds.), The Body: Social Process and Cultural Theory. London: Sage. Low, J.  & Malacrida, J. (2008) Sociology of the Body: A Reader. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Markula, P. (2003) The technologies of the self: Feminism, Foucault and sport. Sociology of Sport Journal, 20, 87–107. Markula, P. & Pringle, R. (2006) Foucault, Sport and Exercise: Power, Knowledge and Transforming the Self. London: Routledge. Phipps, A. (2014) The Politics of the Body: Gender in a Neoliberal and Neoconservative Age. Cambridge: Polity Press. Pringle, R. & Markula, P. (2005) No pain is sane after all: A Foucauldian analysis of masculinities and men’s experiences in rugby. Sociology of Sport Journal, 22 (4), 472–497. Pronger, B. (2002) Body Fascism: Salvation in the Technology of Fitness. Toronto: University of Toronto Press. Rose, N. (2007) The Politics of Life Itself: Biomedicine, Power and Subjectivity in the Twenty­-​­First Century. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Sassatelli, R. (2010) Fitness Culture: Gyms and the Commercialisation of Discipline and Fun. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Shilling, C. (1993) The Body and Social Theory: 1st Ed. London: Sage. Shilling, C. (2008) Changing Bodies: Habit, Crisis and Creativity. London: Sage. Smith Maguire, J. (2002) Michael Foucault, sport, power, technologies and govern­ mentality. In Maguire, J. and Young, K. (eds.), Theory, Sport and Society. London: Elsevier Science, pp. 293–314. Smith Maguire, J. (2008) The Personal is Professional. International Journal of Cultural Studies, 11 (2), 211–229. Wellard I. (2013) Sport, Fun and Enjoyment: an Embodied Approach. London: Routledge. Wellard, I. (2015) Researching Embodied Sport: Exploring Movement Cultures. London: Routledge. Wellard, I. (2018) Whose Body is it Anyway? A Sociological Reflection Upon Fitness and Wellbeing. Abingdon, Oxon: Routledge.

7 CrossFit James Brighton

Introduction In this chapter I reflect on my experiences of ‘doing’ CrossFit (Allen­ -​ ­Collinson & Hockey, 2017). Wanting to drip sweat, spill blood and tear skin alongside other ‘athletes’, four years ago I made the commitment to becoming a ‘serious’ CrossFitter by attending classes five to six times a week at a box in the south­-​­west of England. Given that taking part in CrossFit is an ‘intensely embodied’ activity (Allen­-​­Collinson  & Owton, 2015), exploring the sensuousness of experience was important in revealing both how I and others engaged with and made sense of this ‘primordial’ form of fitness (Glassman, 2009). Emphasis therefore centres on my corporeal immersion in the activity itself. Sensual analyses of CrossFit are first offered followed by reflections on key themes that emerged from these embodied experiences. In doing so, CrossFit is revealed as a powerfully addictive corporeal activity, influencing the subjectivities, identities and social relations of those who participate in it in a number of ways. Consequently, CrossFit is positioned as an important but contested phenomenon in contemporary gym cultures. Before these experiences are offered however, it is first necessary to return to the evolution of CrossFit which was introduced in Chapter 5 in order to provide further contextual grounding.

CrossFit’s fitness As outlined in Chapter 5, in creating CrossFit Greg Glassman attempted to contest the accepted and essentialised forms of fitness promoted in MLCs and ‘globogyms’. Central to his ‘new’ definition of fitness were three principles or standards. First, he argued that an individual’s fitness can be represented by their competency over ten physical skills or ‘modal domains’ (endurance, stamina, strength, flexibility, coordination, balance, agility, accuracy, speed, power) which when combined represent an individual’s ‘General Physical Preparedness’ (GPP). Power output, identified as the ‘currency’ of fitness, is observed over the course of a workout of the day (WOD) by counting the number of repetitions an individual executes or the

118  James Brighton time it takes them to complete a given task, providing an assessment of these domains (Murphy, 2012). Accommodating the above, Glassman’s new working definition for CrossFit’s fitness became “work capacity measured over broad time and modal domains” (Glassman, 2010). The ease through which this definition of fitness is applied and recorded allows simple competition with oneself and others which are accredited to the level of intensity evidenced in WODs. Second, Glassman (2002a: 2) suggested that the best way to test GPP was by de­-​­familiarising exercise routines and abandoning notions of sets, reps, rest periods and periodisation, instead presenting individuals with any physical test imaginable in infinitely varying combinations, in doing so preparing them for the “Unknown and Unknowable”. Directly challenging understandings of fitness legitimised in MLCs and globogyms, where individuals moved in a structured and sequential fashion between fixed resistance and cardiovascular machines, this philosophy was depicted in the CrossFit Journal1 by the cartoon image of a dog with the words ‘mess you up’ ironically positioned underneath a typically belligerent and humorous graphical representation that has become a hallmark of CrossFit (see Glassman, 2002a). CrossFit’s third principle promotes ‘total fitness’, that is, stressing all three metabolic pathways or mechanisms of human energy production.2 Termed metabolic conditioning (met­-​­con for short), this final standard distinguished CrossFit as an all­-​­encompassing measure of fitness, at the core of which are “constantly varied functional movements performed at high intensity” (CrossFit.com, 2020a). In practice, the above principles are all combined into a WOD, an example of which might be as follows: 5 rounds for time: Run 400 metres; 15 Thrusters3; Rx Men: 95 lbs; Women: 65 lbs.4 Borrowed from medical terminology, the term Rx means ‘as prescribed’. This is the standard load and intensity at which the workout was intended to be completed. ‘Scaled’ versions of this workout are also provided, which CrossFit claims enable individuals of all ages, abilities and experiences to participate with the same or similar movements and training intensities. Importantly, the load and intensity of the WOD are scaled, not the programme itself. This ensures integrity to stressing the intended modal domains by the WOD whilst not differentiating by ability. As the philosophy of universal scaling upholds, “The needs of Olympic athletes and our grandparents differ by degree, not kind” (Glassman, 2016, online).

Forging elite fitness: CrossFit as a training methodology and a sport By completing WODs that incorporate multiple exercises and stress alternative metabolic pathways in daily and weekly blocks, CrossFit can be described as a training methodology. WODs, often abbreviated through

CrossFit  119 acronyms (Appendix 2), are units of training and act as ‘benchmarks’ for fitness testing and monitoring. Glassman’s original WODs were given (girls’) names in order to simplify their explanation and act as a mark of reference and demarcation of their intensity (Appendix 3).5 Signifying CrossFit’s close relationship to the military and the forces, particularly long and intense WODs honoured fallen ‘heroes’ who have died in service, which CrossFitters complete as a mark of respect for others (Knapp, 2015a). Due to the inherent measurability of WODs, however, competition is possible and often predominates. This can most obviously be demonstrated through scores (reps completed or time) being recorded and displayed on whiteboards which adorn box walls. Results are compared against others in a given class (e.g. 6 pm) but also against others who have completed the WOD throughout alternative times in the day (e.g. 6 am, 7 am). Outside of the box, individuals are able to post scores on phone applications such as SugarWOD and those following the prescribed WOD placed on CrossFit. com can post their results on an online forum. Keeping track of WOD scores is important in marking progression and encouraging internal competition against oneself. CrossFit has since evolved not just as a fitness methodology but has been accredited with turning fitness into a competitive enterprise. Organised by ex­-​­Marine Dave Castro, the ‘sport of fitness’ was officially born by the arrival of the CrossFit Games in 2007 (Herz, 2015). Held at Castro’s family ranch in Aromas, California, these inaugural games were an informal festival of fitness which resembled a “backyard brawl” (Tao, 2013, online). Likeminded individuals were ‘open’ to get together compete in three WODs over the course of a weekend. For the first time, CrossFitters became known as ‘athletes’. From these bohemian beginnings, now likened to the ‘Woodstock of Fitness’ (Herz, 2015), the CrossFit Games has evolved into a legitimate international sporting event, with over 380,000 athletes entering and over 64,000 spectators attending in 2017, in which the finals were held at the Alliance Energy Centre in Madison, Wisconsin. Known simply as ‘The Open’ in boxes, the CrossFit Games are unique in that anyone is free to enter and participate through a range of qualifying events. As Heywood (2016) observes, therefore, as a training method, CrossFit is for everyone, but as a sport, like other competitive sports, the Games aims to separate the elite.

Academic analyses Whilst much current research on CrossFit focuses on the correctness of movement techniques, programming, injury rates and the physiological improvements in aerobic fitness and body composition, very little is known about its “social aspects” (Pickett et al., 2016: 203). As Powers and Greenwell (2016: 2) indicate, this lack of scholarly critique could be, in part, due to the relative newness of CrossFit and the proprietary and litigiousness of its

120  James Brighton ownership in which attempts at critique have been met with aggressive rebuttal (Cornwall, 2013; 2014; Davis, 2013). Socio­-​­cultural research that is emerging has critiqued CrossFit’s masculine and heteronormative discourses (Heywood, 2015; Knapp, 2015a; 2015b; Washington  & Economides, 2016; Nash, 2018), emphasis on elite levels of physical performance and development of an ‘extreme’ lifestyle (Dawson, 2017; Nash, 2018), the risk of injury (Knapp, 2015b), assumptions surrounding the relationships between fitness and health (Nash, 2018) and the development of an exclusionary, close knit, yet imagined sense of community that has been likened to a ‘cult’ (Dawson, 2017). In addition, caution has been raised about the construction of CrossFit through “a network of consumer practices that are distinctly part of economic neoliberalism and all its attendant problems” (Heywood, 2015: 31) and the exploitative dangers of rampant commercialisation (Powers  & Greenwell, 2016). Although important, this body of research requires developing further. In particular, exploration is required that acknowledges enfleshed experiences of CrossFitters and the consideration of human agency in the differing ways in which individuals interact with CrossFit for their own means. As Podmore and Ogle (2018) identify, research has yet to conduct in­-​­depth explorations of CrossFitters’ embodied experience. Accordingly, this chapter recognises the fleshy, material corporeality of doing CrossFit in furthering these understandings and responding to Washington and Economides’ (2016: 156) call to shed light on CrossFit’s place in the landscape of sport and fitness by undertaking research that focuses “empirical investigations into reactions, feelings, and other affective responses from participants regarding their investment in CrossFit”. First, the embodied experiences of doing ‘Grace’, a benchmark WOD and one of the original ‘girls’, are presented. Subsequently, a sensuous analysis of the corporeality of experience pre, during and post Grace is offered. Emerging from these carnal insights, key themes of embodied competition, immersion, pain and pleasure, ‘edgework’, and carnal metamorphoses are subsequently analysed in more detail, positioning CrossFit as an intensely embodied and contested fitness phenomenon.

Amazing ‘Grace’ “Not her, she’s a slaaaaaaag,” declares Ashley, a sentiment reiterated by Coach Rich. “Yep, she’s a total slut guys, she’s going to ruin you!” I look around; some members seem pumped up by the opportunity to conquer Grace; others appear intimated, fearful even. I find my position on the floor amongst two military formed lines of ‘athletes’ in the 5 pm class. The bar is loaded with 60 kg; two bulky blue bumper plates fixed with metal clips sit at each end, raising it a few inches above the floor. I slide my feet under it, letting its metallic coldness rest against my already tender shins, scraped and scarred from previous lifting. I can sense the

CrossFit  121 pre­-​­WOD atmosphere building. A nervous energy sits syrupy in the air. Standing up straight, I close my eyes and let my arms swing free by my side. I shake my legs and wiggle my chalk covered fingers in an attempt to free my body up from the tension building inside me. I can hear Ashley to the left of me taking huge breaths of air then violently exhaling. To my right I sense Scott standing deadly still looking down at the bar, focused and transfixed. I can hear a couple of excitable ‘Arrgghh’s and ‘C’mon’s being whispered from the row of ‘athletes’ behind me. Coach Rich offers last minute advice, “Remember, go slow to moderate pace for first 20 reps then ‘balls out’ for the last ten. Avoid failure. Stop before you fail!” The suspense further thickens the air. I look up at the digital timer on the wall; numbers in red are counting down, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4 … Feeling my heart thumping in my chest, I drop my head down and dial in to the bar … beep, beep, beeeeep, GO!!!!   I bend down quickly into the bottom of a deadlift position leaning slightly ‘over the bar’ so that my weight is on the balls of my feet. I grip the bar about a shoulder width apart, thumb underneath then fingers on top, locking it in a ‘hook grip’. “Keep your form, pull slowly, then aggressively,” I remind myself. I pick up the bar, sliding it against my shins then focus on triple extending my ankle, knee and hip joints and pulling it up in a vertically straight line. Once it’s level with my waist, I violently shrug my shoulders, finish my hip extension, and move as fast as I can to dip underneath it and catch it in a quarter front squat position. The bar tucked under my chin, I jerk it upwards above my head, pushing my head through my arms and bringing my rib cage down as I do so. Rep one. I let the bar drop quickly, catching it on the way down in my hooked grip before returning to my original deadlift position and preparing to ‘touch and go’ by making brief contact with the floor before completing the second rep.   As I do so, I hear a chorus of light clangs ring metronomically around me as others in the class finish their first reps and have lowered their bars to the floor … 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 I count reps in my head. I must keep up with them; I may even be able to creep ahead of them. 7, 8, 9, 10 … The reverberations of metal on matted floor around me are less synchronised now; there is more a continuous chime as people work at different paces. Every few seconds I hear claaaaaang­-​­claaang­-clang ​­ as people have dropped their bars, allowing them to fall and bounce off the black mats. Bodies are moving quickly but in relative silence other than heavy breathing and the odd groan of effort escaping their lips … 11, 12, 13 … this feels easy, only 30 seconds have gone and I’m a third of the way. Pull. Catch. Dip. Explode. Jerk. Drop. I’m feeling strong, powerful, into the groove and flow of the movement. I reckon I got this ‘unbroken’, completing the WOD without dropping the bar. 14, 15, 16, 17 … 18 … 19 …   “Arrrgghhh, where the fuck did that come from?” the voice says in my head as a nauseous fatigue violently sears through my body.

122  James Brighton Suddenly my lungs are gasping, quads and glutes screaming, forearms burning, grip cramping. Although I can’t sense it, the skin at the base of my fingers and the inside of my thumb must have torn against the abrasiveness of the bar as a bright red liquid has streamed into the bar’s diamond­-​­cut grooves. All I can attend to now is physical discomfort and how to endure it; sights and sounds around me become hazy. “Don’t you dare drop this you weak fucker,” I say to myself. Claaaaaang­-​­claaang­-​­clang. After the twentieth rep I let the bar fall to the ground from the top of my rep and take a few steps back and collapse forward, bending over and resting my hands on my thighs. I’ve crossed the anaerobic threshold and ‘redlined’ and now need time to repay the oxygen debt my body demands. I look up at the clock, 1 minute 35 seconds. “Walk away, take three then get back on the bar!” I hear someone say. Although I desperately want to, I can’t. I feel sick and shaky; I’ve attacked this too hard. As the seconds tick by, I begin to become more conscious of my surroundings again, and I sense others around me continue to move quickly. Many have broken up the reps into ‘singles’ rather than ‘touching and going’ and drop the bar after each weight. Some are moaning loudly, forcing themselves over the line, others are apparently stuck in similar deep and dark places to me.   Still motionless, I look up, 2 minutes 10 seconds, 11 seconds, 12 seconds … some of the class are completing the WOD and dropping to the floor and lying on their backs next to their bars. After too long a break, I grip the chalk covered bloodstained bar again and complete a few more reps with little timing and far from perfect technique then drop it. “C’mon, let’s finish this thing big man, you can rest all you want later,” I vaguely hear reverberating in my ear. Two minutes 41 seconds, 42 seconds, 43 seconds … digging somewhere deep inside me, I ‘get on the bar’ again. I manage the last four reps unbroken. My legs give away, I let go a primal groan and I collapse to the floor. Body exhausted, breathing violently, blood pumping, sweat dripping, skin ripped, I close my eyes. “3 minutes 2 seconds,” I hear, barely registering the outcome.   Lying flat on my back, arms outstretched to the side, legs tucked up, I’m deep in the ‘pain cave’, a personal hurt locker that CrossFitters around the world will be well familiar with. My lungs are heaving violently, dredging up a metallic taste which floods into my mouth, non­-affectionately ​­ termed ‘Iron Lung’. I can feel blood pulsing through my body, making the veins and arteries close to my body’s surface tingle as they are rapidly filled and then emptied again with each heartbeat. Droplets of sweat join together to form small salty streams, which make their way across my skin before dripping onto the black matted floor. Some well in my closed eyelids, seeking through and stinging my retinas. Desperate for the discomfort to ease, I omit a guttural groan “Uuuuhhhhhggghhh … ahhhhhhh”. My attention solely focused on returning my body to a more comfortable state, I have little

CrossFit  123 consciousness of where I am or who I am. “Stay relaxed James,” I tell myself. “Don’t get anxious, this pain will soon pass.”   After a few fleeting seconds the suffering eases, replaced with a surge of endorphins that warmly spread over my body like an opiate. Bathing in the natural high of the aftermath of intense physical exercise and a sense of pure relief, I raise my arm and extend my hand to ‘touch 5’ Coach Rich. This customary body­-​­to­-​­body gesture is an offer of congratulations for finishing but also signifies his empathy and mutual understanding for the place deep inside I have just visited. Moments earlier he had been screaming at me to “empty the tank”. I slowly haul my body off the floor and make my way to my feet and look behind me. The corporeal evidence of my physical exertion is left imprinted on the floor in the form of a ‘sweat angel’, the contour of my sprawled body clearly visible from my perspiration.   Gingerly walking over to the corner of the ‘box’, I reunite with others in the class who entered ‘the red zone’ with me, taking part in this joint suffering, offering my congratulations and touch 5’ing each one. As we gather around fervently gulping down water, we reflect on what happened in the last few minutes. “That was brutal!” says Ashley; “I could have gone harder at the beginning,” rues Mark, whereas all Ben can muster is the word “Fuck” repeatedly. As the debriefing continues, we all consider the strategy we employed, what we need to do to improve and how, as a linearly progressive result of our hard work, we will inevitably beat our scores next time we attempt Grace.   After a few minutes I slide off my Nike Metcon trainers and slip on my ‘slider’ flip flops before stripping plates off the Olympic weightlifting bar and returning them to the designated stacks. The next class, the ‘6 pm­-​­ers’ have begun to congregate around the whiteboard at the front of the box surveying the requirements of Grace. “I wouldn’t want to be doing that workout now,” I tease them, luxuriating in my sense of relief and self­-​­righteousness. Fatigued yet invigorated, I feel distanced from the day’s intensely academic work and now feel ready for the enjoyment and responsibilities of domestic life. I thank Jack, the box owner, and make my way outside looking forward to a hot shower and a cold beer. As I do so, I realise I want more. I’m becoming addicted to this exercise regime and its “pleasurable, physical and emotional suffering” (Atkinson, 2010: 118, italics in original); it has become part of my everyday embodied routine. Determined to push myself harder, I promise myself I will do Grace in sub three minutes next time.

Chasing Elysium: sensorial analysis of a WOD As Heywood (2015) elucidates, undertaking a WOD is a powerful and immersive practice, making an affective call on an individual physically, cognitively and emotionally. Such corporeal responses are evoked pre,

124  James Brighton during and post Grace experienced through the senses ‘intracorporeally’ (within the body) and ‘intercorporeally’ (between bodies) (Merleau­-​­Ponty, 1962) and in synchrony with others (Allen­-​­Collinson  & Hockey, 2017). Recognising the body as central, attending to the sensuosity of experience at each of these stages helps to more richly reveal the body–self–culture relationships I have developed through daily routinised engagement with CrossFit and the addictive pursuit of a corporeal high. Pre Grace Prior to the immediate commencement of Grace, I kinaesthetically ‘tuned in’ (Ingold, 2000) to the lift by feeling for the bar to rest on the hyper­-​ ­sensitised skin on my shins. In doing so, I knew had a better chance of staying ‘over the bar’ and creating a linear and therefore more effective ‘bar path’ as it travels upwards to its final position above my head. Developed through prolonged practice, this example of what Bourdieu (1998: 25) terms a “feel for the game” served to further help my body interact with the materiality of the bar and sense if technique was executed correctly. Simultaneously, the auditory cues of the clock held an “elocutionary power” (Vannini, Waskul & Gottschalk, 2013: 130) providing a rhythmic build­-​­up towards the crescendo; the start of the WOD. Over time CrossFitters become conditioned to these auditory markers. As the clock ticks down to

Figure 7.1 Conditioned by the clock: nervous smiles prior to the WOD. Photograph courtesy of Fiona Cole Photography.

CrossFit  125 3–2–1 GO a rush of adrenalin floods the body in preparation for intense imminent physical exertion (Figure 7.1). Experienced alongside the sonic acoustics made by other bodies in close proximity in the shared social space of the box, this aural landscape creates an atmosphere, which according to Waskul and Vannini (2013: 207) is a social or ‘affective drama’ in which bodies are open to the world and one another under competitive conditions of productive athletic performance. Pre­-​­WOD, this sense of atmosphere helps CrossFitters ‘dial in’ and generate a collective competitive drama, exciting levels of motivation beyond those which would ordinarily be experienced prior to an individualised workout in an MLC or globogym, readying the body to be propelled to greater depths of exertion. Doing Grace Successfully completing Grace was not simply a case of jumping into maximal effort or going ‘balls out’, in the masculinist discourse used by Rich. Rather, like other CrossFit WODs, Grace has unique rhythms and flows requiring technical and tactical regulation. Simplistic in construction but technically complex in movement, Grace is a sprint WOD with the top times in the world around 60 seconds and anything under two minutes being deemed elite. Executing Grace successfully therefore requires “perennial evaluation of ongoing performance” (Hockey, 2019: 228) in order to acclimatise to its demands. This is achieved by attuning to multiple and rapidly moving auditory, visual and haptic cues. For example, the noise of bars clanging to the floor, heavy breathing, groans of determination and verbal instructions transmitted by coaches served to create ‘soundscapes’ (Sparkes, 2009) demarking and regulating performance. This ‘acoustic knowing’ (Feld, 1996; 2000) was supplemented with visual work. Focusing on the bar, surveillance of the clock, and undertaking ‘interrogatory glances’ (Sudnow, 1972) toward other moving bodies provided important ocular feedback of how well I was doing. These aural and visual landscapes were measured against the way my body was feeling. Intracorporeal sensations of the bar against skin and kinaesthetic feedback from the stages of the clean and jerk were attuned to in order to execute technically correct movement and avoid crossing the anaerobic threshold (redlining) which necessitates the cessation of exercise in order to repay the oxygen debt. Having not completed Grace before, I had very little previous corporeal knowledge to draw upon, or was ‘WOD hardened’ as Scott put it, and pushed too hard, too early. The discomfort experienced resulted in my body dys­-​­appearing (Leder, 1990) back into my consciousness and I was required to accept contingency on it and stop. This is a common mistake for inexperienced CrossFitters to make and one which is physiologically hard to recover from. More experienced CrossFitters develop a corporeal bank of knowledge of how their bodies will uniquely respond to the physiological

126  James Brighton demands of alternative WODs. In doing so, they become what Evans, Davies and Rich (2009) describe as ‘corporeal devices’: experiential embodied learners that through repetition are able to regulate pace and rhythm through kinaesthetic and sensorial knowing of the unique requirements of a given WOD. Sensing these various haptic, visual and auditory cues is essential in sedimenting knowledge into an individual’s “embodied schemata” (Hockey, 2019: 228) through routine over time and developing this bank of corporeal knowledge. This kinaesthetic awareness is reinforced by coaches through the tips that they give throughout the session (Edmonds, 2019). Repeatedly experiencing “a ceaseless stream of kinesthesias, cutaneous and visceral sensations” (Leder, 1990: 23) also prepares CrossFitters for coping in the ‘pain cave’. Rather than panic in this time of intense physical and emotive distress, more experienced CrossFitters become accustomed to ‘getting comfortable with being uncomfortable’. Thus, as corporeal devices, CrossFitters learn through both “the ‘physical’ and the ‘phenomenal’ universes of discourse, and the ‘somatic mediations’ of lived experience” (Leder, 1990: 23), making sense of their experiences in combination from the feedback from other members, CrossFit discourse (e.g. the pain expected from benchmark WODs) and through the “biological dimensions of embodiment” (Evans, Davies & Rich, 2009: 391) as they experience the WOD. Post Grace Having recovered from the acute physical suffering and my disappointment in ‘redlining’, post Grace I felt good, really good. I felt so good that I now understand why James, a 37­-​­year­-​­old experienced CrossFit athlete and coach whispered into my ear “Welcome to Elysium” the first time I experienced this warm sense of blissful contentment after a partner workout with him. Post­ -​­ WOD feelings can be analysed in more detail through addressing different stages of recovery. First, in the immediate aftermath of a WOD, little more can be concentrated on than alleviating the ‘pain’ experienced by the body repaying the oxygen debt. This is exacerbated by ‘athletes’ being encouraged to maximise their intensity and ‘empty the tank’ in the final 60 seconds of the WOD to achieve the optimum score. Once finished, the athlete is left alone to recover from intense effort, which frankly is dis­ tressing. The type of ‘pain’ experienced depends on the make­-​­up of the WOD, with those consisting of heavy barbell movements reaping a ‘deeper’ pain from which to recover whereas WODs that stress CV endurance are referred to as ‘gassy’ or ‘spicy’. Second, as seconds tick by, individuals became more consciously aware how the body is attempting homeostasis through processes of thermo­ regulation in recovering from experiencing ‘intense embodiment’ (Allen­-​ Collinson  & Owton, 2015). Here, sensations of blood being pumped ­ through veins and arteries at the skin’s surface and sweat forming on the skin are felt and often accompanied by an urge to rip t­-​­shirts off or walk

CrossFit  127 outside into cooler fresh air. It’s not uncommon to see exhausted, half naked bodies sprawled on the pavement outside the box transgressing its spatial boundaries. Once resurrected from this ‘dark place’, as Georgia, a 26­-​­year­-​­old CrossFitter put it, the creation of a ‘sweat angel’ acts as a valued corporeal meritocratic marker. As has been demonstrated in other gym cultures (e.g. Waitt, 2013), excessive sweating in CrossFit is deemed as a validation of maximal effort and devotion to the pursuit of physical improvement and self­-​­transformation. As Atkinson (2017: 70) suggests, this ‘meritocratic sweat’ is “showcased” as a form of imperialistic corporeal achievement: “I sweat, therefore I am an athlete who works harder, and therefore maybe just a touch better (i.e. healthier, smarter, more culturally invested), than you.” Demarcating valid participation, CrossFitters often take photos of their hard­ -​­ earned ‘sweat angels’ (Figure 7.2) or ‘WOD wounds’ (Figure 7.3) and share on social media to gain meritocratic approval from the global CrossFit ‘community’. Third, having recovered from acute physical suffering, endorphins and analgesic ectorphins flood the body, resulting in a pleasurable form of

Figure 7.2 A ‘sweat angel’ (dumbbells added for effect).

128  James Brighton

Figure 7.3 ‘WOD wounds’.

contentment. Coupled with a sense of achievement, and perhaps even righteousness, this generates a euphoric and addictive embodied high which CrossFitters strive for. A causal relationship exists here; the more discomfort experienced in the WOD, the higher the post­ -​­ WOD high. CrossFitters often feel they have ‘missed out’ if they are not pushed to the depths of their limits or ‘beasted’ in each session, not only due to lessened physiological adaptation but also because of the dulled effect on post­-​­WOD corporeal pleasures. As Mair, a 29­-​­year­-​­old CrossFitter states, You know when it’s [coach’s name], you’re going to get pumped, absolutely ruined, which I like. I don’t like it when coaches don’t push you; it’s like, ‘What’s the point?’ We want to be made to hurt. I don’t feel good unless I’ve experienced an adequate amount of pain. I can’t relax unless I have completed a really hard WOD.

CrossFit  129 Or, as Ashley says, disappointing WODs can be likened to “vanilla sexual experiences, they are okay, but you’re left wanting more”. The joyous feelings experienced pre and post WOD become addictive, yet like many addictions, they become harder to achieve, in this case as CrossFitters become fitter and fitter and are required to work harder and harder to experience the same high. The final level of recovery is characterised by the time to leave the gym and return to routinised domestic identities (Hockey, 2019). Completing a 5 pm class served to awaken my body and facilitate smooth integration into the social world after a typically sedate and isolated academic day. The physical, cognitive and emotional demands of doing the WOD, the post­-​­WOD embodied high and social interaction combine to ease daily stressors by providing a liminal escape from the mundane roles and pressures of every­ day life. As coaches are encouraged to promote to members in classes in their box on the Level 1 certificate course (CrossFit.com, 2020b), CrossFit is the ‘best hour of my day’, acting as an important physical and psychological ‘bridge’ (Simmel, 1994) between my professional and domestic identities. Furthermore, with emphasis on competing, I had forgotten that I was even at the box to ‘work out’ with focus instead centring on exceeding personal targets and metrics of performance as determined by the ‘Sport of Fitness’. Consequently, finding motivation ‘to go to the gym’ was replaced with task orientation. Similar to that reported in previous sociological accounts of bodybuilders who feel they are part of ‘something more’ than just working out, my engagement in CrossFit can be more accurately described as ‘training’ as part of a competitive endeavour resulting in serious and engaged participation (e.g. Fussell, 1992; Klein, 1993; Bunsell, 2013). Engrained as habitual and ritualistic everyday ‘familiar’ routine (Bourdieu, 1990), CrossFit, like other sports, seduces individuals into more intense, encompassing and serious relationships with it, entering what some have deemed a sadomasochistic ‘cult’ (e.g. Murphy, 2012; Dawson, 2017). In summary, this section has highlighted how attending to the materiality of the body and the sensuousness of carnal experience has helped reveal how CrossFitters sense and make sense (Vannini, Waskul  & Gottschalk, 2013) of ‘doing’ this intense gym practice as part of their everyday embodied routines. In offering these reflections, multiple themes emerged that warrant further in­-​­depth analysis.

Competitive blood flows through my veins again In emphasising personal learning, betterment and empowerment, CrossFit advocates commitment to the perpetual drive in ‘becoming the best me’ (Bergeron, 2017). As two times CrossFit Games Champion Katrín Davíðsdóttir describes during competition: “I was clearly competing against other women in the competition  – but within myself, I wasn’t competing

130  James Brighton against others. I was competing against my best self. You can’t do better than your absolute best” (cited in Bergeron, 2017: 17). Personal competition was reflected in my own embodied experiences of completing Grace; I was determined to beat my own best score. In order to monitor progression and provide performance markers, members are encouraged to keep track of their scores. Over time this commitment to ritualistic self­-​­improvement becomes addictive and acts as a rite of passage to maintain group membership. Although accentuating the power of personal empowerment, this philosophy risks cultivating a personally limiting ‘quantified­ -​­ self’ and assuming an upwardly linear improvement to self­ -​­ fulfilment which is problematic when it comes to matters of the body (Becker, 1997). As James pointed out: People often experience huge gains when they start, which is kind of intoxicating as they exceed their own expectations of what they are capable of. However, if they keep training they hit a plateau in which progression is less obvious and have to find new ways of motivating themselves. Maintaining an optimum physical state is further complicated as inevitably the body is subject to injury, ill health and degradation with age. Although proclamation of ‘being the best me’ mantra engrains positivity, personal agency and empowerment, caution should be taken with the unequivocal expectation of linear self­-​­improvement as individuals develop new relation­ ships with their bodies and their training. Clearly, as the ‘Sport of Fitness’, traditional competitive and comparative modes of sport remain evident in CrossFit. As Edmonds (2019) discerns, ‘pushing’ to optimal levels of physical performance, central in constructing CrossFit identities, arises not just in competing against the self but also in competing against others. For him, this competition is revealed as relational against others in a class, as temporal in judging against other scores made throughout the day or posted online, and as perfor­ mative by having to maintain competition every time you set foot on the floor. Senses of relational competitiveness are further reinforced by leader boards detailing members’ WOD results and maximal lifts adorning the walls. In a competitive group environment where scores act as visible mar­ kers of achievement, therefore, CrossFit bodies risk becoming corporeally quantified and subject to hierarchical stratification, thus encouraging judgement of one’s bodily capabilities and upward comparisons against other bodies. For some this can be intimidating and overwhelming, contributing to feelings of inferiority. For others, competition is embraced as a challenge and an opportunity for further personal progression. For the very best, competing is central in the transformation into a ‘legitimate’ CrossFit athlete who attends organised competitions. For me, the competition

CrossFit  131 helped fill the cavernous void left by the forced retirement from sport. In this sense, therefore, it was competing that was central in my ‘reinvention’ (Dawson, 2017) from an ex­-​­footballer and broken jock to someone whose body is once again capable of effective physical movement. Competitive blood filled my veins again. Nerves tingled. Muscles twanged. My heart beat loudly. Such feelings resonate more with competitive sporting endeavours; therefore doing CrossFit transcended conventional conscious thoughts of ‘going to the gym’ to undertake controlled exercise or ‘work out’. Interestingly, a further consequence of the relational competitive structure of CrossFit is the surveillance of fairness and meritocracy, for example by members placing scrutiny on their own and others’ movement standards and repetitions. Individual responsibility for self­ -​­ policing is taken seriously. Members perceived as continually falling short of these standards are deemed as ‘cheats’ and subject to derision with their legitimacy as true competitors diminished. In one box visited, footage from security cameras was even used to count reps in a WOD in order to expose members who were consistently falling short of the rest of the group. In doing so, the box was turned into a ‘panopticon’ (Foucault, 1981) with external modes of surveillance measuring, policing, regulating and disciplining the behaviour of members. As Edmonds (2019:10) notes, not only is the “outward judgmental gaze used to determine whether one is truly embracing CrossFit subjectivity, this judgemental gaze is turned inwards towards one’s own performance”. If individuals are deemed guilty of not competing appropriately, they are not perceived as performing and committing to the CrossFit lifestyle. Competition is therefore central in personal progression and self­ -​­ empowerment, in transcending understandings of working out and in (re)constructing sporting identity, but risks restrictive and limited understanding of self and the body. More emancipatory relationships might therefore be made with CrossFit by focusing on its immersive qualities.

Becoming immersed In addition to the competitive and performative outcomes, joy is found in doing CrossFit for more corporeal and hedonistic reasons. By basking, ephemerally yet repeatedly, in pleasurable feelings of ‘intense embodiment’ (Allen­ -Collinson  ​­ & Owton, 2015), CrossFit can be understood as an immersive sport. For Heywood (2012: 133) this can be characterised by movement beyond competitive model of sport, with the body itself becoming the “raw material for transformation into something better”: The biological dimensions of sport experience, as many athletes have found, can be experienced quite differently from the usual regime of measurement and statistics. Rather than an enemy that needs to be transcended or its limitations conquered, looked at differently, the

132  James Brighton biological becomes something to be embraced. This is another, more positive potentiality that emerges from physical training. (p. 134) Immersive sport is about embracing the experiential, transcending usual senses of time, space, ‘self’ and identity, fostering a deeper and more visceral connection to physical activity and the body. This can be demonstrated through feelings of ‘flow’ or ‘being in the zone’ (BITZ) within a WOD – a state of hyper­-​­sensitised focused attention reached when being deeply immersed, ‘above’ the presence of external stimuli, time, place and conscious thought (Csikszentmihalyi, 1990). For Woodward (2016), BITZ is used in sport both to refer to peak harmonious performance and to recognise corporeality and centrality of the bodily competence in accessing feelings of flow. As she identifies, one must have a certain sense of mastery in order to become physically and emotionally consumed. Newcomers to CrossFit, or those who do not adhere to its governance, may therefore struggle to experience BITZ until they learn many of its complex movements. As identified by Heywood (2015: 32), however, for more experienced athletes like Games athlete James Fitzgerald, CrossFit is a ‘spiritual’ and immersive experience due to “the amount of focused attention it takes to work through the pain and fear triggered by anaerobic deficits and sheer exhaustion that results in the activation of the fight/flight (or, in extreme cases, the freeze) response”. For Heywood (2015: 32) the ‘pain cave’ or the ‘dark place’ can be understood as the “state where you aren’t involved in the individuated, differentiated thinking of your own ego (‘I must concentrate on keeping my arms straight’) but are rather moving automatically, part of your surroundings”. Learning to experience and access the “reserve cache of power buried in this place” is precisely what is known as getting comfortable with being uncomfortable, digging deep in a “psychic trench where a person looks for strength when the body seems to have nothing left” (Herz, 2015: 206). Maintaining flow or BITZ is understood as central in achieving these limits; any conscious attention to external stimuli beyond that which the WOD demands breaks transcendence, disconnecting mind and body. As Chloe, a 24­-​­year­-​­old experienced CrossFit coach and competitor distinguished, “As soon as they rest, stop for water, or desperately look up at the clock, they have lost it.” Completed at a box, experiences of BITZ in CrossFit are a shared phenomenon as bodies move together through timings, routines and rhythms of the WOD in synchronisation (Allen­ -​­ Collinson  & Hockey, 2017). Although in some instances CrossFitters may be competing against each other, it is cooperative and collaborative synchronicity that helps individuals achieve states of flow and endure experiences of pain as “practical, lived empathy” between each other and for each other (Allen­-​­Collinson & Hockey, 2017: 188). This can be explained by Dan, a 38­-​­year­-​­old competitive CrossFitter:

CrossFit  133 Of all things in CrossFit it’s without doubt doing it in a group that pushes me to my limit far more than if I were to do it on my own. I would never push myself as hard if I was just doing a session on my own, especially on the Assault Bike! It’s … it’s just that sense of doing the WOD together, pushing each other, but doing it for each other as we all know how much it’s hurting. Joint flow and energy is part of the allure of doing CrossFit together and unique in distinguishing it from traditional competitive sports. As Heywood (2015: 33) outlines, in CrossFit “experience is always context­ ualised in relation to the group”. This helps explain certain rituals such as cheering one another on to finish the WOD in order to continue the flow experience which individuals can draw upon to finish resulting in CrossFit being, as Michelle, a 34­-​­year­-​­old female CrossFitter recognises, “the only sport where the loudest cheers are for the last to finish”. The importance placed on personal and joint senses of collective flow may also help further explain how disruptions to the group during the WOD, such as talking, taking water breaks or dropping out are discouraged as they break collaborative transcendence, having an adverse effect on the synergy of the group and joint sense of ‘atmosphere’ (Waskul & Vannini, 2013). In adhering to this philosophy, however, CrossFitters risk developing corporeally imperialistic understandings and positioning others who are not able or willing to push themselves to these intense levels as inferior, ignoring the social and cultural barriers that exist in accessing BITZ (Woodward, 2016). As an immersive experience therefore, CrossFit is intricately tied to the social context in which it is performed. Individuals consciously choose to be submissive to the intensity of the WOD in order to lose consciousness achieving a higher immersive experience, maintained not only for the personal but for the collective experience of the group thereby legitimising ones position as a ‘CrossFitter’. Alternatively, those who fail to transcendentally immerse themselves are deemed inferior, risking derision and ostracism.

Welcome to the house of pain (and pleasure) During the title credits to the Fittest on Earth documentary, which details the emergence of the CrossFit Games over the last decade, Sara Sigmund­sdóttir, a multiple times Games athlete, proclaims: “I love the pain, I love the suffering.” Such a sentiment infers that suffering itself is what attracts many to the sport and CrossFit athletes learn to enjoy pain and that developing heightened pain thresholds is compulsory for successful performance. As Mark, a 30­-​­year­-​­old competitive CrossFitter states, “It’s a matter of bearing the pain, of getting through it. There’s a true amount of grit in it.” This should not be confused with assuming that all CrossFitters become addicted to pain for pain’s sake. Rather, a more in­-​­depth understanding reveals that

134  James Brighton it is what the painful experience signifies, i.e. its necessity in the process of self­-​­improvement, feelings of BITZ and the highs of post­-​­WOD ‘Elysium’ that are important, thereby destabilising the binary positioning of pain/ pleasure sensations. Nevertheless, this does not prevent CrossFitters from becoming used to feelings of pain and learning to re­ -​­ articulate dominant binary understandings of pain over time. For example, Stefan, a 40­-​­year­-​­old CrossFit competitor, coach and box owner discusses how although the gnawing experience of pain is an unpleasant sensation, the suffering endured is important in emerging on ‘the other side’ as a better athlete: I am addicted to pain, but it’s not just the pain, because the pain’s not nice, but then afterwards it’s the sense of achievement that you’ve been through the pain … You want to see yourself getting better, that’s the addictive part … And then I suppose knowing that you’ve pushed your hardest and you’ve increased your speed and got better is addictive. I don’t know if the pain’s addictive, the pain’s just something that you accept and afterwards you enjoy. As each WOD is a relatively fleeting experience, pain becomes rationalised as more about struggle, survival and guts in the face of temporary suffering. CrossFitters who demonstrate mental toughness in the face of pain are provided with kudos and welcomed into the group regardless of their WOD scores. Like bodybuilders, it is essential for CrossFitters to show they are made of the ‘right stuff’ or have the ‘demon within’ (Douglas, [2003] 1966) in being able to re­ -​­ articulate pain and nausea as pleasure (Bunsell, 2013). Similar to Atkinson’s (2016) account of ‘pleasurable suffering’ amongst fell runners therefore, CrossFitters’ struggle of self and will is personal and performative. He highlights how within a mutually identified ‘community’, the capability to “withstand and revel in athletic suffering in an ‘individual but together’ modality is collectively appreciated and signified as a meaningful cultural practice” (p. 53) in constructing cultural capital that participants value as a marker of collective identity and belonging. Being in the ‘pain cave’ (Figure 7.4) is therefore part of the CrossFit habitus, with performances of enduring acting as important symbolic markers in the acquisition of physical, social and cultural capital.6 Due to the ubiquity of pain for success and its socially performative paramountcy, developing strategies to deal with pain, or getting ‘comfortable with feeling uncomfortable’ become salient. For many, the simplistic measurability leads to the development of a ‘quantified­-​­self’, a process of corporeal quantification in which individuals define themselves, and others, by how much they were able to lift or their WOD times. Here, pain was endured to beat previous benchmark scores as a sign of continuous linear progression or in surpassing scores achieved by others. As Stefan continues, learning to pace and push pain thresholds at key points was crucial.

CrossFit  135

Figure 7.4 The author deep in the ‘pain cave’. Photograph courtesy of Fiona Cole Photography.

For him, experiencing pain led to the opportunity and right to endure more pain, under which conditions ‘serious’ improvements in strength and cardio­ vascular fitness are made: I know that when I train hard I get better and I get fitter, faster, stronger; so just when that lactic pain is kicking in, that’s the serious bit. Let’s say I’m squatting at medium weight and I’m aiming for 25 reps, and I’ve done the work, and you can drop the barbell whenever you want to of course, but I get to 18 and the pain in the legs starts, and you think, ‘Oh, I could drop the bar now’, or, I can accept that I’ve done all the work to get my body into this state where it’s now starting to be painful and if I don’t now capitalise on this and train in this pain my body won’t get used to this level of pain and it won’t increase lactic threshold. So I push through 18, 19, and I get into 21, 22 and the pain is now horrendous, you push through that thinking that it’s taken a lot of work, just in this one set, to get to the point where my legs are now hurting, don’t just drop the bar and recover, push through the pain because this is where it hurts. You give it your all, feel sick afterwards and know that you’re actually pushing to your absolute limit and that it’s taken a lot to get to this point where you’re this knackered. It’s exactly at that point when you have to push harder.

136  James Brighton Pain is therefore the corporeal marker in exceeding perceived physiological restrictions and pushing one’s limit to the ‘edge’ (Lyng, 1990). Learning strategies for enduring suffering, and the importance of when to push harder is vital for neophyte CrossFitters who are not used to feeling uncomfortable or knowing when to dig deeper into the ‘pain cave’. Like Atkinson (2016), who draws on Turner’s (1969) work on liminality deciphers, a person enters into a ritual not knowing how body, self and mind will be affected in the process. WODs are therefore ritualistic, ordered contexts of self­-​­exploration endured by CrossFitters for their own reasons. Over time, as ‘corporeal devices’ (Evans et al., 2009), experienced CrossFitters can distinguish between forms of pain in more sophisticated ways. Withstanding suffering becomes accepted as part of the evolvement into becoming a successful athlete. Like Pickard (2007) identifies amongst ballet dancers, CrossFitters therefore re­-​­articulate pain as: ‘positive’ as important markers for improving perfor­ mance; ‘zatopekian’ in increasing the body’s threshold to pain over time; and as a ‘rite of passage’ as individuals undergo metamorphoses in developing serious CrossFit identities (pp. 44, 46). Finally, as pain is experienced individually and collectively, suffering is shared and performed in ways that motivate others and foster mutual senses of achievement and respect. An understanding and empathy of the intense experiences that each other has been through entrenches strong and intimate interpersonal bonds with other members. This helps further explain the formation of close knit relationships between CrossFitters which have been likened to a ‘cult’ (e.g. Dawson, 2017). Given the ubiquity of pain and its importance as a somatic and social phenomenon therefore, the CrossFit community might be labelled as a ‘community of pain’ (Andreasson  & Johansson, 2014). However, pain is both the shock and allure of CrossFit to which members become addicted, re­-articulating ​­ the experience as a form of ‘pleasurable suffering’ central in understanding the body and self. As Atkinson (2019: 14) surmises, “immersion in such gruelling physical ordeals is a way of encountering and working through liminal existential questions regarding self, one’s agency, and one’s sense of achieved identity”. In voluntarily choosing to endure such “seemingly self­-​ ­sadistic activities” (Atkinson, 2016: 57) and responding to the ‘comfort’ of contemporary life CrossFitters may more adequately be seen as becoming ‘edgeworkers’ (Lyng, 1990) who play with the limits of physical possibility and learning to feel ‘alive’ and empowered through their fitness practices.

Pushing to the edge of intensity CrossFitters continuously play with the ‘fine line’ of optimal performance just beneath the anaerobic threshold and redlining and “falling off the edge of a cliff”, as Georgia put it. Get the level of intensity right, and individuals surprise themselves with what they are capable of; get it wrong and they blow up, incapable of recovering quickly. Pushing the body to what

CrossFit  137 Bataille (1988) terms as the ‘limit’, an intensely sensual state that destabilises rationality and decentralises identity, allows for a deep sense of self­ -​ ­under­standing and self­-potential ​­ (Atkinson, 2010; 2016). In the depths of the ‘dark place’, ‘pain cave’ or ‘hurt locker’, CrossFitters abandon conscious constraints of who they are and their perceived capabilities, transgressing socially and cognitively formed restrictions placed on their corporeality. Pushing to the depths of physiological exertion creates a space for self­-​ actualisation (Roderick, 2006) from which CrossFitters emerge as more ­ empowered versions of themselves. In voluntarily undertaking these experiences, CrossFitters become embodied ‘edgeworkers’ (Lyng, 1990) engaging in skilled performances of risk taking that push the limit of human capacity through a range of physiologically extreme activities. This may help further explain the emphasis on ‘beasting themselves’ and the repetitive desire to push to the point of struggle and hurt. In failing to reach the limit, CrossFitters feel they have cheated, and have let themselves and other members of the class down. However, pushing too far can have drastic consequences, such as injury, exhaustion, or risking a condition known as Rhabdomyolysis, or ‘Rhabdo’ for short, an acute disintegration of muscle tissue resulting from intense stress causing the bloodstream to be flooded with myoglobin7 (Glassman, 2005; Herz, 2015). Depicted humorously yet valiantly by the cartoon clown ‘Uncle Rhabdo’ with his guts spilling out all over the floor (see Glassman, 2005), the chances of experiencing this condition are small, yet lurk menacingly in CrossFit cultures and it is jestingly diagnosed when someone is experiencing deep struggle. Being an edgeworker therefore also has social and cultural elements. As a group activity, pushing the limits in a WOD is influenced by the subjective meanings attributed and the importance the activity holds for one, its ‘dramaturgical context’ (Vannini, 2017) and the presence of significant others in a class. Being pushed to the limit is desired, accepted, and performed with each episode acting as a building block to achieving physical transformation and a sense of superior corporeal being.

Carnal metamorphoses and reinvention By repetitively pushing the body to its physiological limit and adhering to strict diets endorsed by Glassman (e.g. 2002b), many current CrossFitters reiterated Max, a 24­-​­year­-​­old CrossFitter’s assertion that it was ‘impossible’ not to undergo some form of carnal metamorphosis: There is no way in hell you can’t get fit, strong, and lean, it’s impossible. Because of the amount of movements that you’re doing, the weights you’re lifting, there is just no way that you won’t adapt. Your body is going to become a lot more efficient. It’s going to change. It can be quick too.

138  James Brighton The effectiveness of corporeal transformation is accredited to a shifting of aesthetically orientated to task orientated goals over time, as Chloe explains: A lot of the aesthetic or the visual side of CrossFit arises from the actual movement skills that you develop. What you look like comes as a result of your capacity for physical performance, especially for women. You get ladies joining and essentially they want to lose weight and they want to tone up and they want to feel fit. A few weeks down the line they stop talking about weight loss and they start talking about the weight on the bar and the PB [personal best] that they want to hit next week or at the end of this squat cycle, or they want to PB their one­-​­mile run. Suddenly it’s not about aesthetic, it absolutely becomes about performance. So yes, I think people focus so hard on their performance in CrossFit that worrying about these ideals of the visual aesthetic norm of what male and female bodies ought to look like, it becomes irrelevant and people develop their own personal journey with that; with their capacity and what they look like. This shift in focus from aesthetics to performance is reinforced by Stefan. Whereas sculpting the ideal body was craved from his structured gym programmes in globogyms as a younger man, his idealised form of embodi­ ment was only realised through his engagement in CrossFit later in life in which performance values dominated: I thought I didn’t have a six pack because it was genetic, and I thought, ‘Oh, I’m never going to have a six pack’, and I trained for it probably in my twenties because I wanted it for aesthetics, now I don’t care about how I look I’ve got a six pack because I want to compete at CrossFit. It just naturally happened through dieting well, performing well. My body fat decreased, and now aesthetically I’m where I wanted to be 15 years ago but I don’t care now. So it’s weird that you change your focus to something that’s more performance driven and you actually achieve the aesthetics that you were trying for when you were just trying to get a six pack through doing a few sit­-​­ups at the local globogym. The continual learning of new skills and techniques, the varied daily challenges presented and the easy observation of progression were further driving factors in individuals becoming obsessed with CrossFit based on performance over aesthetic appeal. Such improvements, measured against the performative requirements and not driven by the scales, fostered feelings of empowerment as discussed by Sarah, a CrossFitter of six months: I’m 30­-​­year­-​­old single mum. I think it’s amazing that all I had to do was find three to four hours in the week and I can go and learn something new as well as getting fit. In six months I can do double­-​­unders and

CrossFit  139 handstand push­-​­ups using the techniques I’ve been taught. It’s fun. I think that it’s great. As I’m learning new things and improving it’s empowering, very empowering. As James says, this compelling desire to improve is known as ‘the sickness’. According to him, a focus on performance enhancement and experiencing self­ -​­ empowerment results in individuals becoming deeply submerged in CrossFit, further contributing to perceptions of its cultlike status: I think that’s why a lot of people, that’s why it becomes, it can get the tagline of being a bit ‘culty’, because once you do it you really want to keep doing it. Once you learn it you want to do it more and more until you become as good as you can. That’s why I think with the weightlifting, the gymnastics, the rowing, running, it just fuses it all together and there are so many things to learn and excel at. You continually surprise yourself by what you’re capable of. Intense and serious participation also helps further explain the importance of recording and displaying personal best scores on the whiteboard and beyond. Whereas they may be open to scrutiny and surveillance from the other, they also act as perennial reminders of self­-​­improvement, providing further motivation. This further positions CrossFit is a ‘reinventive institution’ by providing a transformative space within which individuals reinvent their identities and re­ -​­ articulate understandings of their own bodies (Dawson, 2017). For example, for many participants in this study, CrossFit is seen as a ‘gender neutral’ space in which empowering carnal metamorphoses amongst women can be enabled, as discussed by Stefan: CrossFit is massively gender neutral … It’s very neutral, it’s acceptable. We have ladies that train here as members quite clearly out­-​­lifting men at the actual weights, and doing workouts much heavier than the guys are doing … It’s just a very humbling thing for some guys, but also sort of accessible aim for female members to achieve, to enhance their numbers, to keep getting PBs (personal bests). This point is embedded by Chloe, an ex­-​­national level weightlifter, who outlines how the growth in CrossFit has been accompanied by a huge growth in interest in and performance of Olympic weightlifting amongst women: I 100% think CrossFit has enhanced weightlifting as a sport in the UK, and I think weightlifters or weightlifting governing bodies are grateful for that and they are acknowledging that as well. From when I started, it’s crazy, the growth of women in CrossFit and the fact that at the

140  James Brighton level that I’m now at, my numbers are baseline for anyone at this level to qualify for regional CrossFit competitions. So now, I’m still slacking with my fitness or my endurance events, but my weightlifting is like, ‘Yes, it’s okay, I’m just good enough to be here’. That’s crazy, the standard is so high with weightlifting across the board now. Although CrossFit has been attributed to increasing participation in functional forms of fitness amongst women, and in particular weightlifting, for many women in this study, anxiety remained over corporeal meta­ morphoses resulting in a ‘too muscular body’. In spite of the empowering benefits of corporeal metamorphosis, therefore, in general transformation remains entrenched in accepted ideologies of gender and physical attractiveness, especially in relation to notions of ideal feminine embodiment (Heywood, 2015; Knapp, 2015a; 2015b; Washington  & Economides, 2016; Nash, 2018). This is exacerbated by recent supposedly transgressive move­ ments such as ‘strong as the new sexy’ campaigns. Even though intended to challenge gender restrictions, they unwittingly sexualise female athletes, further contributing to the ‘pornification of fitness’ (Reno, 2014), and exclude female bodies that fall beyond given parameters, reinforcing CrossFit as a masculine, heteronormative arena. As Washington and Economides (2016: 151) argue, “in linking the strength to male attraction, the focus is still about appearance rather than performance … appearance is connected to the desires of men, placing CrossFit squarely within a heterosexual and male­-​ ­dominated space”. This is further enacted on social media platforms in which t­-​­shirts are peeled off and discarded and booty shorts and sports bras cling to the sleek strong curves of the female CrossFit body laid bare to voyeuristic pleasure. As Washington and Economides (2016: 151) further critique, female CrossFitters not only become objectified under the surveillance of the “male gaze” but through moving to a self­-​­regulating and self­-​­admiring gaze, women become “agents in their subjectification”, especially given that it “relates to the desirability and attractiveness of their own bodies”. Alternatively for men, the CrossFit body differs from the ‘big’ body historically ‘sculpted’ in spit and sawdust gyms and MLCs. In being efficient and performance based, the CrossFit body is more accurately described as being lean, cut, ripped, striated, and as muscularity for functionality. This slimmer CrossFit body gains corporate acceptability through exuding health and affluence and by not being deemed as too muscular and ‘freaky’ thereby escaping negative accusations of self­-indulgence, ​­ vanity and narcissism in the ways bodybuilders’ bodies have been stigmatised (e.g. Fussell, 1992; Klein, 1993; Bunsell, 2013). This has not been lost amongst those who undertake training for physique development who deride, ridicule and feminise CrossFit bodies, as summarised by Mazzetti (2016): CrossFit is great because you don’t have to worry about exercising for a goal, because exercise is your goal. If you’re trying to build the

CrossFit  141 physique of what success looks like, then CrossFit is not for you. If you’re looking to get really good at moving fast for an hour straight, then CrossFit is definitely your choice of fitness. The difference between lifting and CrossFit is the difference between building a house and being really good at aimlessly hammering nails into a board … When it comes to CrossFit, the only thing you’ll be building is cardiovascular endurance, or as I call it, “the ability to lose gains”. CrossFit is intense athletic training for the professional non­-athlete. ​­ (p. 119) In contrast to the ‘intimate connection’ bodybuilders feel between their appearance and sense of physical and emotional wellbeing (Monaghan, 2001: 351) and who gain the pleasure of being in control as ‘architects’ of their bodies (Bunsell, 2013: 64), CrossFitters gain pleasure alternatively, namely in executing strong, skilful, technical physical movement. These tensions between bodybuilders and CrossFitters hint at arguments surrounding the authentication of alternative forms of fitness. The backlash from bodybuilders may be in response to narrow ideals aggressively promoted by CrossFitters who have experienced carnal metamorphosis and are unquestionably submerged in CrossFit cultures, which can lead to the development of a sense of corporeal imperialism. Like bodybuilders, who aim to create a unique carnality through which they may “see themselves as exceptional and greater forms of humanity than others” (Heywood, 2012: 131), CrossFitters separate themselves from others who are seen as inferior forms of gym user who work out in fitness spaces despairingly referred to as ‘globogyms’. Self­-righteous ​­ beliefs and a superior sense of embodiment are projected onto others, legitimising CrossFit as the most intense, effective and only form of fitness valued. This helps further explain the distaste aimed at CrossFit as being ‘culty’. In advocating a ‘me against the world’ (Heywood, 2012) mentality, it is therefore exposed to aggressive critique from those on the outside.

Reflections I started this chapter by defining CrossFit then providing an embodied personal reflection of doing a notorious WOD (Grace). Analysis of this sensuous vignette revealed various themes which were discussed in more detail: embodied competition, immersion, ‘pains’ and ‘pleasures’, intensity and edgework, and experiencing carnal metamorphosis. In doing so, CrossFit is positioned as a contested activity. On the one hand, it challenges accepted forms of fitness in MLCs, re­-​­inscribes functional movement and pushes the body to levels of intensity that have become forgotten amongst post­ -industrial ​­ understandings of fitness in control society. By making fitness competitive, emphasis is switched from appearance i.e. ‘cosmetic fitness’, onto performance helping in motivation in ‘going to the gym’.

142  James Brighton Conceptualised as an immersive practice, CrossFit repositions intense physical exertion as something enjoyable, allowing individuals to push to the limit and engage in embodied forms of edgework which can be empowering and transformative as imagined physical boundaries are broken down. Experienced in a group as an intercorporeal phenomenon, CrossFit shapes strong relationships through collective engagement in feelings of struggle, pain and pleasure, fostering a sense of belonging, and arguably, a supportive ‘community’. On the other hand, CrossFit can be deemed as risky and ‘culty’, contributing to the development of a narrow sense of corporeal imperialism and remaining an exclusive preserve of a particular type of gym user. Doing a WOD is uncomfortable and entering the ‘pain cave’ is not desired by everyone or indeed always required in order to achieve desired fitness outcomes. Due to its technical complexity, in order to compete successfully and become an ‘athlete’ or feel its immersive affect, CrossFit requires huge amounts of time to be invested and is difficult to sustain due to its extreme intensity and wear and tear on the body. Training can become addictive, compulsive and obsessive, risking injury and illness by continually pushing to the ‘limit’. As Edmonds (2019: 11) recognises, in learning to view the body instrumentally, CrossFitters are encouraged to hide and ignore pain similar to sporting subcultures, exposing them to harm: The lifestyle changes as part of the CrossFit practice also involved reorientating the body to harm. In the shift from an aesthetic view of the body to an instrumental view of the body, CrossFit athletes begin to see bodily damage as a badge of honour. Further concerns over injury are exacerbated by worryingly superficial pathways to coach education and lack of regulation through the affiliate system. Furthermore, whilst there are examples of resistance to ideal femininity (e.g. Knapp, 2015b), many CrossFit identities constructed are grounded in ableist, masculine, militaristic, ageist discourses which are reinforced by some coaches (Nash, 2018). Commencing CrossFit can therefore be daunting to begin with, overwhelming to continue, and can feed the illusion that elite performance is possible. Promoting the development of a corporeal sense of imperialism further serves to enable the affluent, white, male, heterosexual, able body and continues to minoritise others.

Future directions This chapter has introduced, yet has not rigorously addressed, many avenues of exploration within CrossFit cultures which require additional analysis. For example, further investigation of the embodied experiences of individuals who intersect identities of race, ethnicity, sexuality, age, class

CrossFit  143 and disability is required. As well as addressing a particular paucity of research in relation to race and ethnicity, this might include elucidating the experiences of CrossFit Kids (Couture, 2019), CrossFit for at risk youth (such as Ryan’s Club at CrossFit 727 in Tampa) and adaptive CrossFit. These explorations should be made using embodied methodologies helping to reveal how individuals themselves experience CrossFit carnally, cogni­ tively, emotively and temporally in differing contexts. Given some of the issues raised in this chapter, understandings of specific practices within CrossFit require deeper attention. This includes exploring the potential for injurious outcome and illness, and in particular, the risks in undertaking complex movements with heavy weights under extreme physical duress within competitive conditions over time. The assessment of safe practice, and how individuals relate to risk, is particularly important given the tensions that exist over the quality and consistency of Cross­Fit coaches in regulating correct technique (Nash, 2018).8 Likewise, the risks of becoming addicted or obsessed with this intensely embodied activity as an extreme practice on aspects of physical and mental health require further research. Whilst this chapter supports the contention that training with and against people raises individuals’ performance to a higher level, allowing many to access a reserve cache of physical and emotional capacity they never knew they had, further empirical research is required that explores the broader effects of undertaking CrossFit collaboratively and the role of shared corporeal experience in forging the development of a sense of ‘community’. Specifically, research should address if friendships developed under a sense of joint corporeality are confused with broader comforting understandings of ‘community’ that have purported to have a beneficial effect on the development of social capital, mental health and wellbeing and enhanced rates of attrition in CrossFit in comparison to other fitness endeavours (Belger, 2012; Pickett et al., 2016). Questions should be asked if CrossFit is indeed an inclusive and fair arena for all people to participate in, including those who embody historically marginalised and socially differentiating and intersecting identities of sex, gender, sexuality, race, ethnicity, disability and class. As Johnston and Longhurst (2010) lament, the problem with developing a sense of ‘community’ is that it is simultaneously exclusionary of others. Attention should therefore also focus on how CrossFit is cons­tructed and experienced as a masculine, misogynistic, mainly white and hetero­ normative “masochistic fitness cult” (Murphy, 2012: 91) and the types of identities that are constructed from within the boundaries of the box. For example, amateur CrossFitters seem to be increasingly prioritising CrossFit over career objectives, taking sabbaticals from work to train, or migrate to well established boxes in order to improve, seemingly sacrificing other elements of their lives in their pursuit of improvement self­-defining ​­ as ‘athletes’ (Woolf  & Lawrence, 2017) and competing in various functional fitness competitions. This not only includes the Open but also increasingly

144  James Brighton

Figure 7.5 A typical scene from a functional fitness competition (Wild West Winterslam 2018, Cheltenham, England).

Figure 7.6 The beach arena at Tribal Clash 2015 (Blackpool Sands, Devon, England).

CrossFit  145 popular events such as Wild West Fitness (Figure 7.5) or Tribal Clash which takes place on a spectacular beach arena (Figure 7.6), to name a few. Further research is required that explores the dynamics of this serious investment and the effect it has on individuals’ other professional, domestic and personal roles and relationships (Hockey, 2019). Any such investigations of ‘life inside the box’ should consider how individuals engage alternatively with CrossFit for their own purposes and how the development of CrossFit identities should be seen as heterogeneous, active and evolving over time.

Notes 1 A non­ -​­ peer reviewed, self­ -​­ regulated monthly publication available at https:// journal.crossfit.com/. 2 These are: i) the phosphor creatine (PCr) pathway which is used for short­-​­duration high power ‘bursts’ of activity (approximately 10 seconds to deplete), ii) the glycolytic or lactic acid pathway, which is used during longer periods of high intensity power activity once the PCr system has been depleted (normally within 30–90 seconds); and iii) the oxidative pathway which is for long endurance type activity of a relatively lower intensity where oxygen is required to resupply energy. 3 Thrusters are the self­-​­named exercise which can be described as a front squat to below 90 degree flexion, followed by a push press raising the bar above the head with fully extended arms. 4 Taken from www.crossfit.com/workout/2018/03 on 7th March 2018. 5 Asked why girls’ names were preferred, he retorted, “I thought that anything that left you flat on your back looking up at the sky asking, ‘What the fuck happened to me?’ deserved a female’s name” (Murphy, 2012: 26). 6 The capability to endure pain is perhaps best embodied by 2013 CrossFit Games Champion Samantha Briggs, who has been nicknamed ‘The Engine’ for her pain threshold and capacity to maintain cardiovascular endurance. 7 So much stress is placed on the body that muscle fibres actually break down and enter the blood. Acute symptoms include muscle soreness, weakness and swelling, whereas more severe cases risk kidney failure and hospitalisation. Certain move­ ments are more likely to trigger Rhabdo (e.g. pull­-​­ups, GHD sit­-​­ups) and less fit novice athletes are more likely to be affected (Herz, 2015). 8 In order to become a qualified CrossFit Coach, individuals undergo a Level One Qualification which covers the essentials of CrossFit’s fitness and health but is aimed at individuals with existing fitness knowledge and experience (i.e. knowledge of specific lifts). This is achieved over the duration of a single weekend at a price of US$1000. Once this certificate is issued, coaches are deemed to have the knowledge to deliver CrossFit classes.

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CrossFit  149 Woodward, K. (2016) Bodies in the zone. In: Wellard, I. (ed.), Researching Embodied Sport: Exploring Movement Cultures. London: Routledge, pp. 21–29. Woolf, J. & Lawrence, H. (2017) Social identity and athlete identity among CrossFit members: An exploratory study on the CrossFit Open. Managing Sport and Leisure, 22 (3), 166–180.

8 Spinning Amy Clark

I enter the spin room (Figure 8.1). It is dark, cold and empty. Almost feels neglected. A mechanical whirring from an old overworked fan is echoing in the corner. I open the windows. Shards of sunlight flood in and bounce off the mirrors mounted on the walls. Suddenly the room smells fresh, alive and ready to welcome the first class of the day. I drop my bag down behind my spin bike and take out my compact disc selection. I flick through the 40 different playlists I have created over the years and finally choose the tracks that I consider will deliver a good ‘torture’ session, one where I can push our bodies to the limit. My choice of playlist is crucial. It will dictate the way in which the session will run, how many sprints or hills climbs will be included, and how participants will experience the class.   The spinners slowly start to enter the room. The majority of these are my regulars although every now and then a beginner or newcomer will join in. ‘Newbies’ normally retreat straight to the back row of spin bikes and seem nervous when I ask them if they have participated in Spinning before and go through the bike set­-​­up with them. The more advanced spinners claim their usual bike in the front row. Towels and water bottles are now all lined up on the bikes. We are getting close. I can hear murmurs of anticipation and friendly laughter become more focused. I turn on the stereo. As the compact disc slides in, a rush of adrenaline and anticipation flows through my body. I press the close button and adjust the volume of the speaker. I take a deep breath and look down on my bike, making sure it is in line with the tiled floor. Here we go.   BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. Heavy beats dominate the room. Sitting on my bike, I adjust my foot straps, making sure they are not too tight. I look up and all eyes are on me, ready and waiting for my first command. My body feels like it is moulded to this bike; it is a familiar sensation. The seat, handlebars and resistance all work together with me. When I start to pedal I can feel the metal against the bottom of my feet. If my feet aren’t correctly aligned they will start to ache and hurt, so I make sure every time I get on I do a quick ‘shuffle’ with my feet

Spinning  151

Figure 8.1 The Spinning room.

whilst I’m seated to ensure they are secured. This now familiar practice took a while for me adjust to. The first times I felt very uncomfortable on the bike seat, but each time it gradually got better. I always tell the new spinners this too, so they are aware that it will get better and it is a normal experience to have. I also joke and say that my bottom is now moulded into the shape of the bike seat!   I start with the warm­-​­up, stretching and making sure everyone gets used to the pace and ‘feel’ of the bike. My body starts to flow with the beat as I sing to the songs that I have chosen to include within the playlist. Gradually I sense my body becoming warmer and the usual physio­ logical signs of exercise occurring. My heart rate increases, my breath becomes more frequent and I start to sweat. I’m working at my best when I’m sweating. It’s interesting how sweating is acceptable in spin I think to myself, like it’s both ‘meritocratic’ (Atkinson, 2017) and a visible marker I am working with the rest of the class. As the session continues my eyes and neck start to sting from the now uncontrollable droplets working their way over my body. I can smell the perfume being released from the pores on my drenched skin. Grabbing my towel, I wipe away the excess moisture. I’m not feeling conscious of how I may be looking, indeed my hair starts to curl more and my day’s make up is wearing off, but each wipe becomes a marker of my increased exercise intensity and clears my eyes. As I look up I can see the other spinners concentrating on their own levels of exertion. They are quiet, focused, flushed and breathing heavily, occasionally wiping sweat off themselves with their own towels.

152  Amy Clark   Sssssssshhhhhhh…. I can hear the flywheels working hard, making a grinding noise against the resistance. Yet the bike is keeping up with me, pushing my body to its limits. A burning sensation floods my legs and I grip the rubber handlebars tightly as I strain to push harder. As I shout out every command, the spinners follow, pushing themselves further with me. They seem happy to place their bodies in my control. Sweat drips off my body with more of a torrent now, splashing on the frame of the spin bike. My mouth is dry so I reach down to my bottle to quench my thirst and replenish the lost fluids with my usual choice of rehydration: water. For the next 30 minutes I know I am going to work hard.   I let the spinners know that they have two songs left before the cool down. Some say this helps a final push towards the end of the class whilst others gesture (some with two fingers, others with facial expressions) their dissatisfaction for knowing that there is still the last hurdle of the class to encounter. After 45 minutes the bikes slow to a cool­-​­down pace. Less frenetic, more soothing music fills the room. The resistance on the bike is released. Audible sighs of relief now dominate the air waves. Some spinners even cry out with gleeful cheers. As we start stretching I can feel that my muscles are lither and suppler than before. My body glows. My ears are humming and my heartbeat is pulsating in my head. The mirrors in the room are steamed up. I always love it when this happens; the perspiration signals to me just how hard everyone has worked out. The fan is still hard at work, trying to relieve the class with some cooler air as we enter our final routines and return the body to a sense of homeostasis.   As my breathing slowly decreases, I get off my bike and look around. I can see that all of the other spinners are doing the same as me, sharing in the sense of relief and achievement. I count out hygiene wipes to make sure the bikes are left clean and in a suitable condition for the next class and thank everyone for their continued commitment to fitness. I feel satisfied knowing everyone has had a good workout; I can see it in their faces, their drenched clothes and the way in which they exit the studio. As I wipe down my own bike, I feel further satisfaction, each drop of sweat being further evidence of my own hard work. Endorphins are still dancing through my body by the time the final spinner has departed and said goodbye. I close the windows and look back into the room, empty and neglected once again. It’s the human bodies that fill this room that create the energy and ‘atmosphere’ (Vannini, 2017), I think to myself. I’m looking forward to the next workout already.

Introduction Emerging from a broader ethnographic study that explored women’s embodied experiences of using gyms (Clark, 2018), within this chapter I

Spinning  153 explore the ‘sensuousness’ of my experience of both instructing and participating in indoor cycling classes known as ‘Spinning’. Using the theoretical architecture outlined in Chapter 2, first I use the ethnographic vignette of the spin room (above) as a mechanism to reveal how my body is feeling whilst Spinning, and what senses are heightened within this time and space as I assume the role of ‘instructor’. As an experiential ethnographer (Sands, 2002) the vignette above provides insight into my ‘positionality’ in research and how I was able to develop relationships through the sharing of embo­ died experiences. It also demonstrates a form of carnality in terms of how ‘doing’ Spinning with others helped me conceptualise and develop ques­ tions to explore the embodied experiences of other women within the Spinning studio. Having discussed my journey into Spinning, I subsequently focus analysis on the embodied experiences of other women and how engaging in indoor cycling can provide joyous, pleasurable, emotional and empowering physical movement within a likeminded fitness ‘community’.1 Before I start, it is worth briefly outlining the emergence of Spinning and its place within gym cultures. In comparison to other forms of group exercise, indoor cycling is a relatively new gym activity evolving as an attempt to try to replicate the intense aerobic and anaerobic forms of fitness stressed by outdoor cycling on a stationary bike in ways which could be packaged and sold for consumption to cyclists and gym goers alike (Newhall, 2010). Entering into gyms in the 1990s after the initial ‘Step Aerobics’ craze, fitness giant Reebok contributed to its promotion, manufacturing bikes and developing their own programmes, with multiple companies such as Wattbike, Peloton and Pro­-​­Form subsequently joining the market. Consequently, the term ‘spin’ was adopted as shorthand for indoor cycling, although ‘spin’ is actually a trademark of Reebok and refers to its specific indoor cycling programme.2 Nevertheless, while gym­-​­based activities have attracted academic attention, there has been relatively very little in­ -​­ depth sociological analysis that specifically addresses individual and group experiences of Spinning. The concept of indoor cycling is fairly simple. Instructor(s) lead participants through various exercises in different positions on stationary exercise bikes which create both cardio and strength workouts, all set to a music playlist. The various positions enacted on the bikes include ‘climbing’ (cycling whilst standing), ‘jumping’ (alternatively standing and sitting) and ‘hovering’ (where the body remains low and the bottom is ‘hovering’ just above the seat) (Hernandez, 2001). Attributed to the low impact mix of cardio and strength elements and not being demarked as ‘feminine’ or sexualised in the same ways as traditional aerobics programmes have been, Spinning appeals to a wider demographic (Newhall, 2010). Outdoor cycling enthusiasts can participate to maintain fitness during their off­-​­season, and for gym users, it provides a change in the monotony of individualised traditional cardio workouts conducted on elliptical trainers or treadmills. Further contributing to its growing popularity is its completion within specialised studios.

154  Amy Clark Exercise is completed as a group, yet an element of individuality and privacy is afforded as scores are not displayed and subject to surveillance, creating a safe space for empowerment (Malin, 2010; Newhall, 2010). This is now explored through discussing the Spinning journeys of the female spinners highlighted in the above vignette.

Spinning experiences Like other forms of fitness, it is important to recognise how individuals arrive at specific practices by acknowledging their personal histories and unique fitness journeys. I became an indoor cycling instructor in 2011. Having already completed my gym instructor qualifications, undertaking a Spinning qualification appealed to me. As I did not like the dance aspect of gymnastics when I participated as a child (and I had two left feet!), exercise to music and Zumba classes were ruled out. Spin, however, offered an intense and safe cardio and strength workout in a supportive group setting. As Newhall (2010) suggests, certain gym classes provide a model of a feminist ‘community’ based around physical exercise. I felt that spin promised this sense of inclusive community in the face of negative experiences I had previously encountered in the gym as a woman. From my early observations of spin, participants were mainly women, and the same women tended to go at the same times, developing tight knit bonds through sharing in the same banter and cultural codes whilst working on their fitness together. This sense of community and empowerment is captured in the following comment from Becky: See Spinning to me I just, I just like it, it’s fun, […] I like the intensity of it, especially when we are climbing and stuff, I like, I like that coz you really feel like you’re working don’t you. We are kind of doing it together, and because it’s mainly women I feel we are working together to improve our fitness. I gain a sense of pride in others working hard too, not just from my own improvements. In my head I’m thinking “GO GIRLS”! As the only instructor at the gym and in the local area who taught these classes, I felt like I was at the forefront of this fitness phenomenon and had a responsibility in developing an embodied feminist community and contributing to women’s sense of self­-​­empowerment. However, these were my personal motivations and it was apparent that the women who engaged in the Spinning classes did so for a variety of reasons. While many women were initially driven by a particular outcome, such as weight loss or addressing the appearance of the body, over time, the array of embodied experiences as part of the ‘process’ of Spinning became increasingly important to their identity, their sense of self­ -​­ worth and the way they engaged with physical movement. Nevertheless, it was evident that many of

Spinning  155 the women I spoke to participated in the spin classes as a means to manage their weight and address anxieties about their appearance, as discussed by Penny: You feel good about yourself that you’ve done that you know, so if I had had any treats that day I’d feel ok about it and I wouldn’t think, oh you know I’ve had a chocolate bar today and a bag of crisps today so it kind of like eliminates them feelings. The body, exercise and food within Western culture are inseparably linked with issues of body management. In addition, the focus upon ‘normalised’ weight and size has become an increasingly significant aspect in the construction of knowledge about the ‘healthy’ body in medical and popular discourse (e.g. Markula, Burns & Riley, 2008; Papathomas & Lavallee, 2010). As a consequence, the individual is inundated with messages about how our bodies should look, and how health and beauty ideals can be realised through engaging in exercise and following prescribed eating regimens (e.g. Bordo, 1993; Kilbourne, 1999). Research has shown that gender adds complexity to the relationships between the body, exercise and food, with women in particular demonstrating high anxiety and distress surrounding their weight and bodily appearance. In many cases these anxieties are manifested in negative eating and exercise practices (e.g. Markula, 1995; Krane et al., 2001; 2004; George, 2005; Zanker & Gard, 2008). It is perhaps unsurprising then that the participants in the research I conducted frequently discussed their relation­ ship with food, Spinning and the body. For example, Charlie and Penny offered the following reflections: Having done a spin class, it just makes me feel better for the rest of the day. I feel I can eat and drink more and without guilt. (Charlie) I did lose weight when I first started Spinning, and that was about two and a half, three years ago, probably about a stone, which did make me feel so much better. So yeah that’s why I’ve kept it up, I really enjoy it, erm, time goes really quick and I notice a difference in the shape of my body since doing it you know, and I feel a lot better about myself. (Penny) It could be suggested that a main motivation for Charlie and Penny Spinning was that it ‘burned’ enough calories to create a negative calorie balance and contribute to losing weight and over time and transform body shape. Fixation on using spin to create a calorie deficit was not limited to Charlie and Penny. Before and after class, I constantly overheard women discuss their food intake. For instance, one member stated to me: “I ate my own bodyweight in Chinese last night so I really need to spin it off!” Doing

156  Amy Clark a spin class was therefore seen as ‘currency’ which could be used for guilt free calorie consumption: I think coz I, as long as I do the fitness side of things and burn the calories, regularly, then I don’t really mind what I eat. I just think well I can spin that off on the Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday! […] If I have like my bottle of wine on the Friday and Saturday, then Monday, Wednesday, Thursday go Spinning, spin those calories off! It like eradicates the calories! (Lily) I’ll go home, clothes are soaking wet and I’ll go ‘yep’, I’ve earned that fries and chocolate cream that I’m now gonna eat, you know I just love that feeling. (Jenny) These accounts reflect many women’s journeys into Spinning, and the self­-​ ­reflexive choices they made in relation to their fitness and dietary routines. As will now be discussed, this engagement contributed to an increasing awareness of bodily performance and constructions of physical capital.

Bodily displays and body capital Bourdieu’s (1984) concept of ‘body capital’ offers a useful explanation of how the values that are attached to individuals’ attractiveness, appearance or physical abilities may be exchanged for other forms of social, economic or cultural capital. Research has demonstrated that an individual’s bodily capital is substantial within many realms of their social life (e.g. Ambady & Rosenthal, 1993). Body capital, as a concept, describes why individuals invest money, time and energy into their own bodies and have the expectation of a return on investment relating to those investments (Hutson, 2013). For example, Penny described how she looked to my own body (as an instructor) as a presentation of physical capital and the impression it made upon participants: Looking at you at how perfect you are, but then you, you dress you know you could dress like so skimpily and show off your body where you never do, you know which is nice as well. You’re not like you know, oh look at me I’m perfect or anything like that, you know which is really comforting when you come in to like a spin class. You don’t come in like in little shorts and a little top you know, trying to say this is like the perfect figure how women should look or anything like that, you know it’s quite good you’re more like, tomboyish and that, erm, which is good for most people I think. (Penny)

Spinning  157 As Ian describes in Chapter 6, personal trainers convert their bodily capital into economic and social capital (Smith Maguire, 2007). They also have to follow popular discourses of being toned and thin, possess a fit­-​­appearing physique, and symbolically represent health and fitness, all of which are valued by those within the field (Bourdieu, 1984; Jutel  & Buetow, 2007). This leads Hutson (2013: 68) to suggest that, as a personal trainer, “your body is your business card”, referring to a physicality which demonstrates credibility, helping to successfully recruit and retain clients. In this sense, I consciously negotiated my physical capital by not projecting particular senses of feminine body perfection onto members. Rather, I attempted to stay as neutral as possible through looking ‘tomboyish’. This process can be understood as a form of ‘aesthetic labour’, which is integral to understanding display and performance in service work (Witz et  al., 2003). Aesthetic labour is defined as work whereby the aesthetic labourer (or myself as the instructor) loans their ‘embodied competencies’ (Warhurst et al., 2000) or physical capital (Bourdieu, 1984) to the company (or gym in this case). Aesthetic labour is often manifested in the ‘look’ or the comportment, voice or other physical characteristics of the employee, which is often, by the labour process, turned into competencies which are focused on producing a ‘style’ of service that is deliberately intended to appeal to the customers to account for commercial value (Nickson et al., 2003). Aesthetic labour of the employee is often considerably valuable for the company as an organisational artefact, or an aesthetic artefact, concerning the employee’s ‘look’, which portrays the image, strategy and body of the company (Hancock & Tyler, 2000). Harvey, Vachhani and Williams (2014) suggest there are three inter­ dependent components which form aesthetic labour: adornment, capacity and physique (Light, 2001). Adornment refers to the extra­ -​­ physique adjustment of appearance, such as wearing particular clothing, body art or jewellery; it is influenced by the need to acquire new physical goals. For instance, when I take a spin class, I choose to wear tighter fitness clothing as I feel that it assists with my performance during my workout. Many spinners also wear lycra and performance clothing with the belief that their performance will be enhanced. Capacity relates to the physical ability of the individual; this can be measured in terms of speed, strength or fitness, and this also impacts adornment. Lastly, physique refers to the physical attributes of the individual, such as weight, height and build. Bodily physique unavoidably impacts on an individual’s capacity; this is evident through the physique of athletes of different sporting disciplines (Harvey, Vachhani and Williams, 2014). For example Becky provided the following reflection: When I first came here it was your class I first took, and you know I didn’t feel intimidated or anything, so that was nice, coz I could of done, you know thinking, oh, but no it was nice.

158  Amy Clark Becky’s experience of her first Spinning class, and how she viewed me, could be related to what is perceived as ‘excessive’ physical capital. This could indirectly hinder potential progression, as they may wish to avoid the discomfort caused by comparing their bodies with that of the instructor(s). This creates a dilemma as it leaves me in a paradoxical position. I am required to present through my physical capital, knowledge, quality of service and ability  – however extensive or ‘excessive’ physical capital can prohibit consumption by intimidating possible clients (Harvey, Vachhani and Williams, 2014). What is also interesting is that Becky alternatively explained that instructors who did not fit ‘the look’ also surprised her through their performance and ability. Becky touched upon her earlier experiences of working out with a ‘larger’ instructor: BECKY:  She

[the instructor] was quite a big lady, yeah she was quite a big lady and she used to say to us ‘oh don’t be surprised if you put more weight on as muscle weighs more than fat’, and we were like whoa! AMY:  So when you said she was a big lady did you assume that because she was an instructor she had to look a certain way? BECKY:  Yeah, yeah see that’s peer pressure and media again, yeah definitely, but she was dead fit, she was really really fit, she was brilliant this woman, she was all muscle. Becky identified that this particular trainer had capacity through what she called ‘dead fit’, but initially believed the trainer’s physique would affect her capacity due to her being large, and not having the perceived appropriate look for a trainer. This emphasises that personal trainers or ins­ tructors are expected to look a certain way; their bodies are inextricably bound with sector work (Wolkowitz, 2006). Aesthetic labour is also generally conceptualised as productive to the company’s goals; employees are supposed to be perceived as ‘good looking’ or to have the ‘right look’, and in this case, instructing classes, and the embodying the discourses that are attached to this. While the concepts of body capital and aesthetic labour draw heavily upon the theoretical legacy of Marxism and the view that power is produced through unequal relationships, predominantly those forged through class and economic tensions, the arguments expressed by post­-​ ­structuralists offer an equally convincing explanation. Here power is considered not in terms of dominance by one group over another but more arbitrary, yet nevertheless omnipresent. As Ian described in Chapter 6, Pronger’s (2002) description of ‘technologies of fitness’ provides a good example of how the knowledge generated in broader society operates in more specific ways within gym spaces. As a spin instructor I am, therefore, a ‘representative’ of the fitness industry and a messenger of such technologies of fitness knowledge. In these spaces it is difficult to contest them.

Spinning  159

Spaces for the generation of fitness knowledge That’s my bike, and I know exactly how it works and feels. (Stephanie) In Chapter 5 we explored how different spaces and spatial layouts in the gym influence embodied experiences in relation to the rhythms and routines and constructions of body selves over time. Here, I explore in more depth how the participants constructed spatial preferences within the context of Spinning. Each spinner tended to have their own favoured area within the spin room. The more advanced spinners preferred the front row with a double bottle holder in the handlebars; the shyer or less confident spinners retreated to the back and tried not to sit near anyone else. They tended to not be as concerned as the more experienced spinner about which bike they used. Joanna, Penny and Alice describe: I like it, as long as I’m at the back I like doing it … coz no one can see me … if I fall off the bike or anything. (Joanna) I used to be at the back but as I grew more confident, I used to be right at the back … and then slowly I did a layer forward. I think coz I’m like used to doing coz it was all the unknown you know in case I muck up I’ll have to stay at the back and then once I got more confident in doing it knowing what I was doing, then I was fine and slowly moved forward. (Penny) You do have your favourite bikes and you do you know like when you first start you go from you’re quite happy to be tucked away at the back, and then watching everybody which is good coz you get an idea of what it is, in the hover, and things like this and you sort of think, we are gonna jump now. But when you are at the back you can watch everybody then it’s fine and obviously as you got more confident you then, you would then move forward erm so yeah, I do tend to have a certain bike, well there’s not many brilliant ones now anyway is there! But there are certain ones that everybody likes I suppose. (Alice) In my conversation with Alice above, I pursued her rationale for having a favourite bike: Well one of the two handled ones at front […] just because you know what the resistance is like, you know and obviously, you get to know now where you need your saddle and sort of your handlebars don’t

160  Amy Clark you so you know it’s probably not going to conk out! And then you get confidence and you are at the front! So! Then you think ‘Oh god I’ve gotta keep going!’ so I suppose that motivates you coz you are at the front sort of, you don’t want to be seen sitting down. (Alice) Foucault’s (1991: 139) ‘essential techniques of discipline’ (control of activity, the organisation of geneses and distribution) enables a further understanding of space and disciplinary practices that occur within the spin room. The essential techniques are typically concerned with the controlling of individuals and the production of work through the manipulation of space, the organisation of time, and the production of productive ‘docile’ bodies, through repetitive or systematised ‘exercises’. To enable efficient disciplinary practices, spaces incorporating these practices are needed. Discipline requires an area that “is the protected place of disciplinary monotony” (Foucault, 1991: 141), and it can be seen there is a special area within fitness practices as this is an enclosed, or distinct, space dedicated to physical fitness. Distributing discipline requires ‘partitioning’ (Foucault, 1991: 143) to avoid formations of groups that are difficult to control. Therefore, space is organised temporarily to eliminate the grouping of uncontrollable human bodies; and also to know where and how to locate individuals, to set up useful communications, to interrupt others, to be able at each moment to supervise the conduct of each individual, to assess it, to judge it, to calculate its qualities or merits. (Foucault, 1991: 143) Within the spin room, each spinner tends to take up their own space instead of engaging within a group task; they reserve their own space whether this is the actual spin bike, or space surrounding it before the class starts. Consequently, the arrangement of the bikes before the Spinning starts into designated places represents a form of disciplinary practice.

Emotional bodies While the sociological explanations presented above provide convincing arguments for the role of the socially constructed factors operating within the context of the gym, my own reflections and the conversations with the other women revealed the significance of individual and emotional relationships involved in Spinning. The role of emotion within a workplace or sports setting has been a constant, yet often implicit theme within literature. Emotional labour can be understood in terms of the act of expressing socially desired emotions during service transactions or “the management of feeling to create a publicly observable facial and bodily display” (Hochschild,

Spinning  161 1983: 7). These expectations give rise to feeling rules, or norms that specify the range, duration and intensity of emotions that should be experienced (Ashforth  & Humphrey, 1993). On particular days when I feel exhausted, prior to the class, I sometimes have to ‘prepare’ myself in order to feel ‘ready’ to instruct a class. Lily, also a Spinning instructor, implies that she is additionally subjected to emotional labour at times: I hate to have to think, and I’d rather go in someone else’s class and listen to their instruction and be told what to do. Coz doing it, giving it all the time, is hard work and mentally draining, because you’ve got to motivate others, yeah it’s difficult, and you’ve got to want to do it to be able to instruct for everyone else. It is argued that service providers/service agents (or myself as the Spinning instructor) perform emotional labour in two ways. First, through surface acting, which involves simulating emotions that are not actually ‘felt’; these can be accomplished by verbal and non­ -​­ verbal cues, such as facial expressions, gestures and voice tone (Hochschild, 1979; 1983). The second means of complying is through deep learning, whereby the individual attempts to actually experience or feel the emotions that one wishes to display. This is where the service agent ‘psyches themselves’ into experiencing the desired emotion (Ashforth & Humphrey, 1993). During times of emotional labour, the individual can wear a ‘public mask’ in order to protect themselves from others, by keeping emotions private and not on display. This is a non­-​­committed withdrawal of the ‘true self’, where the individual opts out from mutual involvement and intercourse, demonstrating the wish to be alone or to go alone (Bauman, 2000: 96). Gender­-​­emotion beliefs can have a great effect on how we see people, and even on how we view ourselves. Emotion is easily open to interpretation due to both the embodied and indescribable (Shields, 2007). As Alice demonstrates, emotions play an important role within the spin room: Yours [classes] are very professional and I think it doesn’t show with you what kind of day you’ve had, you come in and do your session and I think sometimes with other people it’s a case of, they’ll give depending on their mood. (Alice) Grandey (2000) suggests that gender difference in relation to emotional labour is no exception. Women may be more likely to manage emotions at work as well as at home and as they are engaging in more emotion management situations it could be suggested that they are better at managing their feelings. However, by engaging in more situations where management of emotions is required, they might also be supressing their true feelings, therefore stress would be higher (Wharton & Erickson, 1993). A study by

162  Amy Clark Timmers, Fischer and Manstead (1998) suggested that men and women have different motives for the regulation of their emotions, in that women are more concerned with getting along, whereas men are more motivated to stay in control and express powerful emotions such as anger or pride. As Shields (2013) recognises, gender­-emotion ​­ stereotypes are important with not only how an individual feels about themselves and others, but they are also implicated deeply with regards to how gender itself is understood. There have been many beliefs about emotion, and a long history of this explains gender differences. ‘Masculine’ emotions are attributed to a passionate force, and a drive to achieve, create and dominate; ‘feminine’ emo­ tions are illustrated as ineffectual, and a by­-product ​­ of female reproductive physiology, and an evolutionary need to be attractive to men. The different emotions between men and women were believed to be due to behavioural expressions of inevitable and natural physiological facts (Shields, 2013). Some spinners have suggested that they also experience emotional labour but from their position this is through participating and actually going to the classes when they feel tired and de­-motivated: ​­ Obviously it goes on the mood of your day as well, you know how hard you work, how not hard you work. That’s what I needed at the end of the day or that’s what I needed after a day at work or something. I find myself harder to motivate when I’m off [work], than when I’m back at work it will be like I’ll come bang bang bang, but then when I’m off I say, shall I go, shall I go. (Alice) Yeah if I’ve been like, really tired at work and I’ve come along but only half­-heartedly, ​­ you know really I shouldn’t have come but I’ve come along and sometimes I’ve done that, pretended I’ve turned it up, but usually you know. It’s more towards what’s happened within the day and how I’m feeling rather than the class itself, and where really I shouldn’t have come. Erm I’m only like half­-​­heartedly doing it but, yeah not often, you know that’s more within me, how I am. I wouldn’t say my day has to go well, but you know sometimes when I’m angry and like fed up it will go good, like the spin session will go better than ever sometimes coz you wanna get out all your frustration. But if you’re not feeling like, 100%, not feeling well, or like sometimes I’ve been like headachey and I’ve come, then I haven’t tried as hard, but yeah I’d say like if I’m angry or if it’s just a normal every day then yeah it’s fine. (Penny) While many psychological perspectives tend to operate within an essentialist gendered binary, Goffman (1956) offers a more nuanced sociological explanation when he refers to how individuals put on an act or a ‘front’. This is employed and expressed unwittingly or intentionally by the individual during their performance. There are different aspects of ‘front’, including the

Spinning  163 ‘setting’, involving furniture, physical layout, décor, and other background items which set up the scenery and stage props for the series of human action to be played out before, within or upon it. The setting normally stays put, so that individuals who use a specific setting as part of their performance are unable to start their act until they have brought themselves to the relevant place and must adjourn their performance when they leave it. This can be seen throughout Alice and Penny’s experiences. Whilst thinking about the scenic aspects of the spin room, the setting consists of the spin bikes arranged in rows, with the instructor’s bike at the front. This setting normally remains the same and never changes for consistency so that the spinners (or performers in this case) are able to bring themselves to the relevant place (motivate themselves to spin) in which they are able to participate within the spin class, and of course, this is left behind when they have finished the class and left. Goffman’s (1956) ‘setting’ can also be referred to as scenic parts of expressive equipment; the term ‘personal front’ can also be related to other items of expressive equipment. The performer intimately identifies these items and they naturally expect to be followed by the performer wherever they go. This can include clothing, sex, age, racial characteristics, looks and size, posture, speech, bodily gestures and facial expressions. Some of these are relatively fixed and do not vary for the individual. However, some of these are transitionary, such as facial expressions, and these can vary during a performance from one moment to the next. ‘Appearance’, referring to “those stimuli which function at the time to tell us of the individual’s temporary state”; and ‘manner’ referring to “those stimuli which function at the time to warn us of the interaction role the performer will expect to play in the on­-​ ­coming situation” (Goffman, 1956: 15), can also make up a personal front. Often, consistency between appearance and manner is expected. These are all interwoven and displayed within the spin room, not only through myself as the instructor, but often through the spinners’ experiences they encounter.

Pleasurable Spinning The discussion so far has presented arguments that can be, in simple terms, categorised into the sociological and the psychological. While the arguments expressed are compelling, they tend to impel the reader to take disciplinary ‘sides’. Much of the focus within this book has been to move beyond the limits of conventional thinking by incorporating an embodied approach. One aspect that emerged throughout my research was the differing and complex ways in which the women enjoyed Spinning and were motivated to return again and again. Wellard (2013) suggests ‘fun’, which includes pleasure and enjoyment, can be considered as: a a significant factor in participation and continued participation; b a major factor in initial experiences of sporting activity;

164  Amy Clark c an objective experience which cannot be fully explained in terms of acts which are intrinsically hedonistic or defined through simplistic binary formulations of pleasure and pain; d an embodied experience which incorporates a multitude of social, psychological and physiological components. (Wellard 2013: 4) As the women in my study began to progressively enjoy Spinning more, their conscious attention turned to senses of bodily pleasures of working out, as demonstrated through the following quotes from Penny and Becky: It was really hard though, like that first one [Spinning] erm, and even at the beginning when we first started a couple of tracks, it might have been two or three tracks and you went ‘and that’s the warm­-up ​­ ending’, I was thinking, I can’t go, I can’t do that 45 minutes, but coz everyone else is doing it you feel you can’t stop, you know, and it did go pretty quickly, but I remember getting off the bike and I’ve never ached so much and I felt like my legs were like jelly and I had to learn to walk again and I’ve never had that feeling with an exercise class ever, you know it was like strange, but felt really good and you knew you’d had a proper workout. (Penny) For me, it’s like I’m doing a proper workout and you know when you feel that ache and that burn, haha I like the burn! The burn is the sign of a good workout, I’m working out here, yeah, but saying that, when we go into sprints and we are doing our sprints and I’m out of breath I like that feeling coz I think, that’s a workout, makes me feel good, kinda makes me feel more alive. (Becky) Penny and Becky’s embodied experiences of working out within the spin room suggest a range of emotional and physical sensations that are interwoven within the individual body in conjunction with the social context where the experience has occurred. For example, Penny initially states that she can’t go on and continue with the 45 minute class, but she doesn’t want to give up in front of the other spinners and knows that by working hard, pride and physical fulfilment will be gained from having accomplished a ‘proper workout’. Likewise, Becky’s description of the ‘ache’ and ‘burn’, and being out of breath is an example of Allen­ -​­ Collinson and Owton’s (2015) concept of ‘intense embodiment’, as she describes Spinning as a period of heightened awareness of corporeal existence and heightened sensuality, describing the Spinning experience as a ‘proper workout’. As Leder (1990) suggests, these descriptions also reveal how the Spinning body may ‘dys­ -​­ appear’ from

Spinning  165 consciousness during the flow of the activity during periods of embodied oneness of body and bike working together, yet at other times during the class the body re­-​­enters consciousness through ‘dys­-​­appearance’ when heightening senses of pain/pleasure are experienced such as ‘the burn’. Thus, spinners go on emotional, sensual, sometimes painful, but mainly pleasurable journeys within each class. In experiencing these pleasurable senses of corporeality within a supportive feminist community setting, participants were able to contest negative conceptualisations of eating and exercise, and reimagine exercise experience by repositioning Spinning as a challenging but enjoyable embodied gym practice. One noticeable example of an enjoyable aspect was the role of music within the Spinning ‘experience’. Music emerged as an aural terrain which was an important factor in maximising overall enjoyment and immersion in these experiences. According to McClary (1994: 23), music has an “uncanny ability to make us experience our bodies in accordance with its gestures and rhythms”. Charged with affect (the intensity that allows us to feel), music challenges binary divisions between mind and body, subject and object and memory and imagination (DeChaine, 2002). Through our immersion in music, therefore, we experience consciousness and our bodies differently. As Becky and Alex explain below, music has an affective call on embodied experiences of Spinning: The music is the bit that keeps you going as well … I find that some music gives me more energy, it really motivates me. (Becky) I guess the sounds, so the louder something is the more intense you get, I get, erm, so music really helps, coz obviously if you’ve got boom boom boom (smacks hands) you in a beat together, you’re gonna get that rhythm and that. You get into it more, you kinda lose yourself in the music and the way your body moves to it. (Alex) For Alex, volume, beat and rhythm were important factors in getting into the music and the intensity of the affective call on the body and sense of immersion in the activity. In doing so, participants were able to conco­ mitantly ‘latch’ on to the beat of the music (Spencer, 2012) and the rhythmic physical requirement of Spinning. Remaining in time with the track and the instructor assisted coordinated breathing patterns and lower limb intonation (Allen­-Collinson & ​­ Hockey, 2017). For the spinner to achieve rhythm, coordination of body parts is negotiated through particular bodily alteration necessary to align with the tracks played, for example, whilst in the ‘hover’ position. To efficiently do this, a sense of timing is also needed. Goodridge (1999: 44) defines this as “the act of determining or regulating the order of occurrence of an action or event, to achieve desired results”. Depending upon the playlist there is a

166  Amy Clark general rhythm set for every spin class. The classes include aerobic and anaerobic work, or in some cases a combination of both; this requires rhythms that are intimately related to particular goals the spinners have in mind. Changes of rhythm are also foreseeable, particularly in certain tracks that are easily recognisable (Allen­-​­Collinson & Hockey, 2017). For Alex, the volume at which music plays is important. For her, loud music has a primal visceral affective call on the body which helps keep and revel in the corporeal experience of rhythm. In doing so, she recognises ‘holding a rhythm’ is achieved through her sensorial dictators (Hockey, 2013): It’s intense, and you just come in and it’s boom, boom, boom, boom, boom and then it’s done. If you’ve got loud music and I can just focus on that, kind of feel the natural rhythm and I get into the groove of each track. My body seems to naturally tune into the groove. (Alex) Experiencing ‘the groove’ is also evident within the reflections above. As explained by Roholt (2014), grooves have four intuitions. First, they have a feel. Second, they involve the body and its movement. Third, the intuition has to be surrounding what it means to understand a groove, and finally, the fourth intuition combines all of the above; feeling and understanding a groove does not occur within a thought, nor listening to music alone, but it occurs through the body. The groove is not noticed until an individual finds him or herself in a sort of communication breakdown; their musical ontology presents a groove that is revealed, and fleshed out through active, embodied engagement. It can be seen that whilst working out and listening to certain music, Alex and Becky construct their own ‘grooves’ through their exercising bodies whilst Spinning. Music and volume therefore set the tone of a spin class, creating the sonic acoustics that keep individuals ‘going’ and helping them find a rhythm and groove. Resultantly, it has been recommended that Spinning playlists contain eight­ -​­ minute tracks with the same continuous beat, creating an organised aural consciousness that distracts spinners from focusing on the ‘pain’ or ‘struggle’ endured in a workout. The reflections below demonstrate how Alice and Penny have an awareness of this as ‘auditory attunement’ (Allen­-​­Collinson & Hockey, 2017): I think music is the key thing; it’s a real key thing … I prefer just to have separate songs and have each a beat … it’s just going boom boom boom boom boom … the music I think, the music is really important, loud as well. (Alice) Sometimes it’s just boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom, erm, which sometimes gets on my nerves, but it also helps me

Spinning  167 on the bike […] if it’s good music that you, like, you tend to have, I dunno the time seems to go a lot quicker. (Penny) Feld (2000) contends that sound and our own awareness of ‘sonic presence’ constitutes a powerful force that shapes an individual’s everyday awareness of a sense­-making ​­ activity. This produces a distinct ‘acoustemology’ (acoustic epistemology) formed on the ways in which the sensual and the bodily experience of sound create a specific way of knowing. In relation to this, Bull and Black (2003) illuminate ‘deep listening’. This requires an individual to develop “attentive auditory retention and attunement to the nuanced and mul­tiple layers of meaning enfolded in the sound” (Allen­-​­Collinson & Hockey, 2017: 183), as indicated in the reflections by the women. ‘Non­-​­symbolic sonorous expressions’ acknowledged by Vannini et al. (2010: 331) include the various terms for sounds surrounding non­-musical, ​­ non­-​­linguistical bodily processes, for example coughing, sneezing and laboured breathing. These ‘non­-​­symbolic sonorous expressions’ are acknowledged within spin classes, from spinners who are breathing heavily, or through the grunts and moans whilst the body is exercising, further helping delineate performance of the self and other. From the above, it can be seen that music makes an individual’s experience in the spin room substantially more emotive and embodied in the ways described throughout this book.

Summary This chapter started with an account of my own experiences of Spinning, and my journey as an instructor. This established a basis to raise questions that I could explore with the help of a group of women who participated at the same gym as me. In investigating the women’s experiences of the spin room, I described how their engagement in the activity affected their relationships with their own bodies and others, particularly in relation to their food, exercise and expectations of femininity. I also explored how bodily movement and gestures in conjunction with the gym space and the example of music affects embodied experiences of doing Spinning. Analysis demonstrated how each spinner has spatial preference whilst exercising in the spin room, and how this space unintentionally produces docile, disciplined bodies through the repetition of systematic exercise. It was also evident that the women who participated in this Spinning space expected the instructor who leads the class to present a specific ‘look’. Consequently, the women could be seen to be engaging in positive expressions of gender within the context of sport whilst at the same time being complicit with dominant forms of (repressive) gender ideology. It is acknowledged that this chapter represents a limited analysis of Spinning and the broader issues relating to gender equality. However, if taken in context with the discussions in the rest of this book about the

168  Amy Clark benefits of adopting a more nuanced, embodied approach to these issues, it is clear that there is scope for further research. Indeed, additional work is required into exploring the embodied experiences of not only women in traditional gyms, but also in alternative physical cultures and gyms, such as leisure centres and gyms that do not embody a ‘spit and sawdust’ ethos. Doing so would also prove beneficial toward the understanding of the female body and how the body is negotiated in specific physical cultures.

Notes 1 Eight women were included in this research. They were: Alex (50), Alice (39), Becky (42), Charlie (29), Joanna (22), Lily (25), Penny (48), Stephanie (51), each of whom had been Spinning between 6 months and 4 years. 2 I use the term ‘spin’ or ‘Spinning’ for the classes I instruct at the gym, and refer to the participants as ‘spinners’. These references are used most frequently among gym participants.

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170  Amy Clark Newhall, K. (2010) You spin me right round, baby. In: Malin, J. (ed.), My Life at the Gym: Feminist Perspectives on Community through the Body. Albany: State University of New York Press. Nickson, D., Warhurst, C., Cullen, A.M.  & Watt, A. (2003) Bringing in the excluded? Aesthetic labour, skills and training in the “new” economy. Journal of Education and Work, 16, 185–203. Papathomas, A.  & Lavallee, D. (2010) Athlete experiences of disordered eating in sport. Qualitative Research in Sport and Exercise, 2 (3), 354–370. Available at: https://doi.org/10.1080/19398441.2010.517042 Pronger, B. (2002) Body Fascism: Salvation in the Technology of Physical Fitness. Toronto: University of Toronto Press. Roholt, T.C. (2014) Groove: A Phenomenology of Rhythmic Nuance. London: Bloomsbury Publishing. Sands, R. (2002) Sports Ethnography. Champaign, IL: Human Kinetics. Shields, S.A. (2007) Passionate men, emotional women: Psychology constructs gender difference in the late 19th century. History of Psychology, 10, 92–110. Shields, S.A. (2013) Gender and emotion. Psychology of Women Quarterly, 37 (4), 423–435. Available at: https://doi.org/10.1177/0361684313502312 Smith Maguire, J. (2007) Fit for Consumption: Sociology and the Business of Fitness. London: Routledge. Spencer, D. (2012) Ultimate Fighting and Embodiment: Violence, Gender and Mixed Martial Arts. London & New York: Routledge. Timmers, M., Fischer, A.H.  & Manstead, A.S.R. (1998) Gender differences in motives for regulating emotions. Personality and Psychology Bulletin, 24 (9), 974–985. Available at: https://doi.org/10.1177/0146167298249005 Vannini, P. (2017) Making sense of the primal scream: Sensory peak performance and the affective drama of athletic competitions. In: Sparkes, A.C. (ed.), Seeking the Senses on Physical Culture: Sensuous Scholarship in Action. London: Routledge, pp. 25–41. Vannini, P., Waskall, D., Gottschalk, S. & Rambo, C. (2010) Sound acts: Education, somatic work, and the performance of sonic alignment. Journal of Contemporary Ethnography, 39 (3), 328–353. Warhurst, C., Nickson, D., Cullen, A.M., & Watt, A. (2000) Aesthetic labour in interactive service work: some case study evidence from the “new” Glasgow. The Service Industry Journal, 20, 1–18. Wellard I. (2013) Sport, Fun and Enjoyment: an Embodied Approach. London: Routledge. Wharton, A.S.  & Erickson, R.J. (1993) Managing emotions on the job and at home: Understanding the consequences of multiple emotional roles. Academy of Management Review, 18 (3), 457–486. Witz, A., Warhurst, C. & Nickson, D. (2003) The labour of aesthetics and the aesthetics of organisation. Organisation, 10, 33–54. Wolkowitz, C. (2006) Bodies at Work. London: Sage. Zanker, C. & Gard, M. (2008) Fatness, fitness and the moral universe of sport and physical activity. Sociology of Sport Journal, 25, 48–65.

9 Reflections James Brighton, Ian Wellard and Amy Clark

The central intentions of this book were to use our lived, enfleshed, sensuous bodies as the central locus through which to explore contemporary fitness practices and gym spaces. We aimed to do this through developing theoretical, methodological and empirical ‘embodiedness’, providing a rich corporeal grounding upon which to carry out sociological analyses of gyms and the profound meanings that ‘going to the gym’ has on the lives of people who use them. In doing so, we respond to much existing literature on gyms and fitness cultures within which the experiencing body has been theoretically and empirically elusive. In this final chapter, we develop select critical discussions through drawing together and reflecting on key themes that we have previously identified. First, we summarise the ways in researchers might employ an embodied approach to conceptualising and researching gym bodies and fitness cultures which has informed our own thinking and actions as ‘bodies in the field’. Second, we reflect on the spatial location of contemporary fitness and the distinctions that emerged between alternative gym spaces and claims made to ‘authentic’ forms of fitness knowledge. In doing so, we scrutinise if all contemporary gym spaces are inclusive, or if they purposefully divide and exclude bodies in current fitness markets. Third, continuing the theme of inclusion, we draw on empirical reflections made throughout this book in outlining the gym bodies that have not always been included, concentrating our analysis on the experiences of women, older and disabled gym users. Fourth, returning to the central theme of embodiment, we further reflect on how the carnal experiences of gym goers meaningfully structure individuals’ everyday routines, identities, subjectivities and body–self–culture relationships. In doing so, we ask if the contemporary gym offers opportunity for agency and pleasurable experiences of joy, pleasure and empowerment or remains restricted and controlled by contemporary restrictive fitness discourse. After these reflections are offered, we briefly outline some of the potential implications our work might have on fitness education and policy amongst the dynamic and constantly changing fitness cultures we have described. In particular, we highlight the need to make gyms more inclusive

172  James Brighton et al. places and advocate how promoting a carnal understanding can help individuals in developing deep, meaningful, positive and fulfilling relationships with fitness practices and their bodies, promoting long term adherence and health. After highlighting what is missing from our investigations and the prevailing interpretations of the gym body in contemporary society, we suggest important future avenues for research. Finally, as a way of conclu­ ding the book and acknowledging the un­-​­finished­-​­ness of our own bodies, we offer our up-to-date gym journeys.

Conceptualising and researching gym bodies We began this book by introducing our own (gym) bodies up to the point in time at which we commenced research for this project. Telling stories about our own gym bodies as autoethnographic vignettes was important in order to reveal our interest and engagement in fitness, and in providing a broader context of the bodies through which we explore and write from. Importantly, in making self­-​­reflexive ‘confessions’ of the physical, psychological and emotional pleasure we gain from training and the importance of the gym in the construction of our embodied identities, we position ourselves in relation to other people and places that we engaged in our research journeys. Whilst we recognise we all occupy privileged bodies and positions in order to make such explorations, we nevertheless hope that these introductions help divulge significant life events and intersecting selves that have sparked an imagination and empathy for developing understandings of others’ experiences. Subsequently, in Chapter 2, we made suggestions for the theoretical architecture which might be employed in developing a carnal conceptua­ lisation of gym bodies. As part of our acknowledgement of an embodied sociological understanding, we outlined the value of welcoming the very material object at the centre of fitness practices, the lived, sensing, ‘enfleshed’ body into our analysis. This included providing a grounding of phenomenological perspectives that are concerned with perception and consciousness and, in particular, existential strands of phenomenology that transcend Cartesian mind/body dualisms embracing the materiality the body. This encompassed sociological phenomenological approaches that recognise how lived bodily perceptions are experienced within specific historical, social and cultural arrangements, and feminist phenomenology that specifically employs gendered lenses in exploring the essences of lived experiences within these specific dynamics. As one way of acknowledging the grounded, raw, visceral here­-​­and­-​­now of human corporeality, we elucidate how embracing the sensual revolution might be an especially useful approach in exploring material, situated and emotional gym bodies. By drawing on current empirical research into fitness cultures, we provided discussion that reinforced the potential of exploring

Reflections  173 the senses in helping understand the lived experiences of gym goers. Finally, given the representational approaches taken in this book (i.e. the incor­ poration of our own voices into our writing) we introduce the merit of sensuous autoethnography as a method. This theoretical grounding not only provides the backdrop of our own investigations into gym cultures but acts as a resource for other researchers employing embodied approaches to exploring fitness cultures. Although these theories variously dominate our ‘enfleshed’ ways of thinking in exploring gym bodies and movement cultures, we nonetheless intermittently draw on constructionist approaches and the work of influential sociological theorists (e.g. Michel Foucault, Pierre Bourdieu and Erving Goffman) throughout our analysis in order to locate the materialist conditions and dominant discourses that gym bodies operate within. Whilst we have not specifically covered these approaches in great detail, as they have been done so elsewhere (e.g. Pronger, 2002), we remain conscious of the value of these ways of thinking in providing broader context in situating gym bodies within movement cultures. In adopting this theoretical eclecticism, we hope to allow for a nuanced analysis of the unique phenomena under study in Chapters 5–8 and the development of in­-​­depth understanding of the inter­-​­relations between the body, society, culture and contemporary fitness. Furthermore, in elucidating these diverse repertoires for understanding gym and fitness cultures, we acknowledge the alternative theoretical choices we as individual and ideologically informed researching bodies in the field chose to employ. Having provided this theoretical framework, in Chapter 3 we mapped the evolvement of modern fitness, providing the historical context upon which our analysis of gyms and fitness practices is based. ‘Fitness’ is located as a product of historical, political, social, cultural and temporal arrangements with the gym offering one customised institution that neatly houses the physical training and embodied practices that individuals undertake. Once informed by militaristic objectives and important in establishing a strong, healthy, disciplined citizenry, gyms subsequently became central in crafting bodies that symbolised a sense of virtuosity, morality and masculinity. State owned gyms eventually became privatised with commercial fitness spaces opening in Europe in the middle of the nineteenth century. Basic utilitarian ‘spit and sawdust gyms’ which focused on developing muscularity as the embodiment of masculinity emerged from boxing gyms in the mid­-​­1960s. It was not until the 1970s as part of the ‘first fitness boom’ (Millington, 2016; 2018) that modern ‘health clubs’ materialised, marking the consumption of fitness as a lifestyle choice. Once existing as disciplinary spaces, gyms now provided individuals with choice on the forms of fitness they practised and bodies they developed. This setting provides the backdrop for modern understandings of the gym and the construction of contemporary fitness discourse. Under current neoliberal arrangements, individuals engage in a diverse range of

174  James Brighton et al. embodied practices within gyms as a commitment to their unique self­ -​ ­reflexive health and fitness ‘body projects’ (Shilling, 1993). Neoliberalism has given rise to the growing importance that fitness facilities offer in prescribing ‘exercise as medicine’ as a solution for example to ageing and obesity ‘epidemics’. Accor­ dingly, commercialised gym numbers have grown and alternative gym spaces manifested in response to these personal and political agendas, including the appearance of mass scale budget globogyms. With increasing lifestyle choice, gym goers now have more freedom in shaping and perfor­ming their bodies in relation to given socially and culturally valued consumer trends than ever before. Most recently, this has included the rise of a return to primordial forms of fitness such as CrossFit. As knowledge about fitness and the body has proliferated and gyms diversified, so have debates surrounding the legitimacy of alternative manifestations of fitness and the degree of agency afforded to gym users. Within ocularcentric and aestheticised contemporary society such debates are often played out through presentations and performances of the body on social media platforms. Promoting fitness trends as ‘influencers’ is now a big business as individuals – based on their perfected physiques – build brands and endorse specific forms of physical training, programming, meal planning and fitness related products. It has been argued that this omnipresence of the fit body (Pronger, 2002) has led to the development of extreme dietary practices, body ‘dysmorphia’ and the increasing use of IPEDs. Medicalised in some other disciplines as ‘disorders’, clearly socio­ -​­ cultural arrangements influence the surveillance and ontological comparison individuals undertake as well as the localised social relations or habitus evident within each unique gym (Bourdieu, 1977). In many ways, therefore, whilst the gym promises reinven­tion, it remains subject to contemporary fitness discourse as a disciplinary institution. The continual surveillance of the fit body and the constant pursuit of fitness is characteristic of what Millington (2016; 2018) terms the ‘second fitness boom’. Here, individuals engage in fitness as ‘prosumers’, both as producers and consumers of fitness. Having provided a conceptual and historical context of gyms and physical fitness, in Chapter 4 we outlined our embodied methodological approach as sensuous bodies in the field. Here we offered self­-​­reflexive empirical reflections on the approaches taken to data collection and the alternative roles we adopted in our ethnographic investigations. This was important in demonstrating how we integrated ourselves into various fitness settings through increasing our physical and cultural capital in different ways and how we made our prevailing interpretations. In addition to committing to undertaking and becoming proficient in fitness practices our­ selves as ‘experiential ethnographers’ (Sands, 2002) this included, for example, becoming qualified as ‘instructors’, ‘trainers’ or ‘coaches’ (depend­ ing on the activity) in developing our knowledge of

Reflections  175 fitness and learning the appropriate linguistics and rules of group membership. In doing so, we were able to perform and present fitness identities which helped in the development of long lasting and intimate relationships in the field, fostering a rich depth of human understanding during field work. This is not to say that building relationships or accessing ethnographic terrains was a smooth process, nor as ‘bodies in the field’ were we always included or escaped being subjected to forms of oppression. As a white, able­-​ ­bodied, ‘straight’ male, access for James into most mainstream masculine fitness facilities and spaces was generally unproblematic. As a young, female ethnographer, however, Amy revealed many tensions in gaining access to and participating in areas of the gym that were deemed hardcore, working class, male preserves such as the free weights areas. Rather than threaten her involvement in them, over time she was able to develop strategies for continued participation in them whilst sharpening her critical feminist ideological positioning. Outlining these methodological strategies was useful in ascertaining how phenomena were explored in subsequent chapters, but also provided early acknowledgement of how our bodies were accepted or challenged in particular gym spaces, to which our critical attention is now turned.

Distinction and authenticity of embodied fitness knowledge As discussed in Chapter 5, contemporary gyms should not be conceived as homogenous and uniform spaces but as heterogeneous, evolving, stratifying places with unique social dynamics, cultures and forms of habitus that served to inform and structure embodied experience. Explored through the locatedness of our own bodies, we revealed the dynamics through which spit and sawdust, MLCs, globogyms and CrossFit boxes operate distinctly as reverential spaces, each with their own unique formal and informal rules learned and performed by members over time. Specific spatial locations such as the front desk, gym floor and the changing rooms were identified as important in regulating and policing gym law, affecting the social interactions, subjectivities and corporeality of individuals as they move through them. The material construction and social and cultural worlds of fitness facilities therefore acted to include or exclude, enable or constrain, and empower or oppress particular gym bodies. In addition to the internal dynamics that operate within these spaces, it is worth considering the inter­-​­relationships between gyms and forms of fitness knowledge embodied by individuals. As the gym scene continues to stratify, so do the forms of distinction expressed between these spaces and competing arguments over the authenticity and ‘superiority’ of specific forms of fitness. These debates are evident at an individual level in the choices consumers make but at corporate levels as fitness

176  James Brighton et al. enterprises fight for commercial space. For example, although spit and sawdust gyms might be deemed as the ‘poor relation’ in economic terms in relation to more commercial gyms, the quote from Steve in Chapter 5 suggests that they still see themselves as being better in that they are ‘harder’, ‘stronger’ and produce ‘bigger’ bodies. He also indicates that individuals who use commercial gyms are more ‘herdlike’ and less serious about fitness, which clearly does not allow for individual circum­stances or the broadening of types of gym available. This inferior positioning speaks loudly about tensions between inclusivity and openness between gyms, in that ‘spit and sawdust’ gyms want to be seen as exclusive and reserved for ‘hardcore’ resistance trainers whether that be for bodybuilding, power lifting or Olympic weightlifting. The point here is that spit and sawdust gyms have never laid claim to being inclusive fitness spaces; it is their exclusivity that allows them to survive, and perhaps thrive. Consequently, they have always marketed themselves as places for more specialised, serious or hardcore trainers. Similarly, CrossFit, as an activity which many participants from spit and sawdust gyms have gravitated towards, has made a point of distinguishing itself from globogyms in part through the intensity of training (Edmonds, 2019). In opposition to what is perceived as a commercially driven, soulless, individualistic, corporate fitness space therefore, the CrossFit box (and some spit and sawdust gyms) prides itself on developing informed movement knowledge, providing instruction, and fostering a sense of belonging, ownership and ‘community’. Perhaps due to some of these similarities and the hardcore bodily practices that take place within them, however, CrossFit boxes do not make similar divisions to spit and sawdust gyms. The distinctions made between gyms hint at the declarations of particular forms of fitness knowledge practised within them and claims made about the authenticity of the ‘fit’ body. Serious gym users make decisions about what gym spaces to use based primarily on what forms of fitness they subscribe to amongst current discourses and trends and the unique body projects they envision. Within these fields over time, individuals gain fitness knowledge, absorb it, embody it and transmit it within the unique habitus of the gym they attend, thereby structuring beliefs over authenticity of specific forms of training. In moving from aesthetic to more functional forms of training, CrossFit for example makes claims to be a ‘superior’ fitness enterprise. This belief is aggressively proselytised by its members to others who are told that not only will they inevitably experience spectacular physical improvement but because they will also discover a “place where they will find community and people who genuinely care about their well­-​­being” (Edmonds, 2019: 8). This is not to say that CrossFit is inclusive, escapes commercially driven objectives or that CrossFitters are not equally regulated by forms of fitness discourse albeit in an alternative fitness space. Whereas spit and sawdust are relatively transparent in their

Reflections  177 exclusivity, therefore, it could be argued that many CrossFit boxes are not as open as they proclaim, with members whole­ -​­ heartedly adopting Glassman’s mantras of fitness with docility in becoming part of the ‘cult’ (Dawson, 2017). For serious spit and sawdust gym users and CrossFitters, therefore, the forms of fitness practised in MLCs and globogyms are derided, deemed as inferior, belittled and infantilised as a ‘nursery’ through which one must graduate on one’s fitness journeys. Suggesting that people who use MLCs or globogyms are more ‘herdlike’ and less serious speaks loudly about tensions between inclusivity and openness between gyms. These forms of distinction and claims to authenticity in gym spaces therefore present further questions relating to bodies that are included or excluded in fitness cultures. Drawing together key themes that emerged on our analyses of ‘doing’ personal training, CrossFit and Spinning, we now extend our discussions of the body and fitness cultures through discussing which bodies have access to the ‘gym VIP list’.

The gym VIP list From our analysis of ‘doing’ gym practices in Chapters 6–8, it is clear that not all bodies have always been considered welcome participants in fitness cultures. Here, we briefly explore examples of how some groups have negotiated participation allowing for consideration of the extent to which gym spaces have developed in progressive ways or whether wider social discourses of exclusion prevail. In Chapter 7, for example, James included a quote from one of his interviewees, Stefan, who was commenting about how CrossFit addresses gender inequities. However, despite the claims that CrossFit can address the continued gender inequalities in sport, there remains an unquestioned sense of what a sporting body should look and, indeed, act like. It can be seen constantly (whether explicitly or surreptitiously) in all aspects of the gym spaces that we explored. Stefan’s comments about how CrossFit presents a greater expression of gender neutrality do not fully reconcile the continued disparities evident in how different bodies might be able to participate. What becomes apparent is a constant reiteration of a ‘normal’ sporting body – one that is based upon a physically able, strong, masculine body. So whilst Stefan might highlight the way that CrossFit can accommodate (some) women on an equal level, broader knowledge about the sporting body is not necessarily challenged. The women that can successfully participate are reinforcing bodily performances expected from young male participants. In CrossFit, the Rx ‘gold standard’ is based upon what is considered achievable by a male participant. One who is technically proficient and has knowledge about the activities, is aged between 18–35 and who weighs in the region of 75–100 kg. As a result, all other categories are scaled in relation to this category – women, older men and disabled people. While the capacity

178  James Brighton et al. to scale provides a strategy to enable a broader range of people to engage, it does not fully eliminate the notion of a hierarchy where the young, able male body is celebrated more. Consequently, the experiences of a Cross­ Fitter (like participants in other gym spaces) remain firmly constructed within the context of existing forms of hegemonic sporting masculinity where understandings of the body are formed through distinctions between more able and less able, stronger and weaker. In this way, those that do not fall readily into the dominant category (i.e. women in general, older men and disabled people) have to develop strategies to enable entering such spaces. That they have to continuously do this represents a barrier that is often overlooked by those ‘within’ the existing boundaries of expected (or Rx) sporting performance. Similarly, Amy’s discussion of the embodied experiences of women in gym spaces highlights the continued inequalities that remain. Possessing a ‘woman’s’ body remains problematic and subject to multiple forms of oppression in gym spaces, like it does within many other sporting contexts. We mention this as we had intended to include a discussion upon sexuality in relation to gay men’s participation in gyms. However, focus upon bodily presentations through muscularity and hegemonic forms of masculinity suggests that the gay male body is less problematic IF it is able to perform in expected ways (such as Rx or lifting heavy weights). This is not necessarily the case for women, the older adult and the disabled person, as their initial entry into the gym space is read through signs of ‘difference’. So, whilst reasonable arguments can be made about the ways that expectations about sporting ability and acceptance within sporting spaces apply to all of those who enter, it remains apparent that specific groups are not on the (metaphorical) bouncer’s list (or anywhere near the top of it) and greater justification for entry needs to be made at the gym door. Indeed, in previous research exploring fitness and wellbeing Ian described how negotiating his older body presented far greater challenges during fieldwork: During the research that I conducted [previously] with men who played sport, it became clear that my own sexuality had not presented a barrier to my continued participation, unlike many of the other men whom I interviewed. Similarly, in my research relating to CrossFit, sexuality was not a barrier to participation either. It was apparent that my ability to ‘do’ sport has been a greater factor in my acceptance within sport and much of this relates to my outward bodily performances. To an extent, it could be claimed that during this research sexuality was put on the back burner because I had not considered it to be problematic. However, although sexuality was less evident on my research radar, age was much more apparent. Awareness of the ways in which age was a factor clearly affected the way that I continued with the research. Indeed, age dominated so many aspects of my experiences during the

Reflections  179 whole period. This included the physiological ways in which my body was able to cope with activities clearly aimed at a younger body. Even though the events in the Masters competitions had slightly reduced Rx levels, the training programme and expectations for performance were based upon a model aimed at a 25 year­-​­old body. The physical demands and experiences also played at the emotional level, particularly in terms of the subtle and not so subtle messages that appeared to present the older body as a separate entity. (Wellard, 2018: 108) Consequently, the notion of ‘difference’ is clearly a factor. The ageing body, along with the female and disabled body, are classified as different because of their perceived weakness in relation to the hegemonic (sporting) male body. Theoretical knowledge about the sporting body is informed by scientific knowledge and ‘fitness’ knowledge (as described by Pronger, 2002). Such thinking reinforces the notion of difference as ‘fact’ and while ‘scaling’ in CrossFit can be seen to offer a way to accommodate differing abilities within the same space, it does not necessarily go any further in providing more creative ways to think about bodies with different physical capacities. Similarly, our explorations expose a taken­-​­for­-​­grantedness of able­-​ ­bodiedness in gym cultures. Although beyond the limitations of this book, it is clear that disabled people are marginalised in ways that restrict their active involvement in fitness spaces. Wheelchair users might be subjected to forms of oppression, for example physically, by not being able to gain access to gyms or manoeuvre around equipment; symbolically, through being presented with ableist instructions and images on resistance machines; emotionally through the trauma of making multiple transitions between wheelchair and equipment; and socially through the unintended hurtful words, actions and stares of other gym members and fitness professionals (Tregaskis, 2004; Richardson, Smith & Papathomas, 2017; Brighton, 2018). Consequently, disabled people are left feeling worthless, burdensome and unwelcome in gym settings. Importantly, as Richardson, Smith and Papathomas (2017) highlight, it is not just the identification of these barriers that contributes to the divisiveness of gyms along able­-bodied/disabled ​­ binaries, but the deep and profound ‘psycho­-​­emotional’ responses to these alternative forms of oppression (Thomas, 2002). Thus an embodied appro­ach extends analysis beyond the mere identification of given barriers to disabled people using gyms and more adequately acknowledges the physical, psychological and emotional responses individuals experience as a result of these restrictions. It is not only gym spaces in which binary divisions between bodies are created. Assumptions surrounding the perfectibility of the ‘imperfect’ disabled body have also become established. Scholars within disability studies have for example addressed the politics of the ocularcentric bias in contemporary consumerist society, revealing a tyranny of perception that

180  James Brighton et al. continually juxtaposes the ‘imperfect’ disabled body against the ‘perfect’ able body. As Silvers (2002: 229) suggests, aesthetic criteria are maintained in ways “that sustain dominant group interests” such as commodifying how ‘beauty’ and ‘normal’ are judged, thereby subjugating already oppressed people further. The binary configuration of disabled bodies as opposite and unequal to able bodies is explored in gym settings by Sparkes, Brighton and Inckle (2018) through their analysis of Dan, a wheelchair bodybuilder. They highlight how his hyper­-​­muscled body reinforces gender norms and subverts the non­-​­disabled gaze away from his perceived weakness (i.e. his impaired legs) to focus on his physical capacity and perfectly sculpted upper body physique. Through modifying the “very material entity that informs the negative stereotypes that people hold about disability” (2018: 10), therefore, Dan was able to challenge dualistic understandings in a strikingly visual way. In their analysis of Dan, the authors suggest that Monaghan’s (2001) notion of variable bodybuilding projects can accommodate contingent concep­ tualisations of perfection not only amongst disabled bodies, but bodies that fall outside the parameters of normalcy. Promoting a multiple and diverse approach, for example, might also help female bodybuilders challenge potentially oppressive quests for bodily perfectionism by providing alternative and ultimately more empowering bodybuilding projects beyond notions of imposed femininity (Bunsell, 2013). Although not all bodies are on the gym ‘VIP list’, therefore, through relinquishing normative understandings of age, disability and gender and welcoming multiple forms of perfectionism individuals can develop transgressive and proud gym identities and in doing so, start their own parties!

Embodied gym experience as transcendence In spite of gyms being identified as divisive spaces we have each been able to develop generally positive relationships with them. This however required learning of ‘the rules of the game’ (Bourdieu, 1984) as well as developing and performing our bodies in ways that were deemed acceptable in fitness discourse and gym habitus. Each of us was therefore complicit at varying times and spaces in carving out valued gym identities. To a certain degree, we were able to transcend the binary positioning of our own experiences of otherness (i.e. male/female, young/old, able­ -​­ bodied/disabled) through both consciously and unconsciously attending to the joyous pleasures and ecstasies experienced through our physical training. Although assumptions were made about Ian’s physical capabilities due to injury, visual impairment and an ageing body, for example, he remained able to find ways of gaining pleasures in undertaking specific gym practices and in embodied social interactions within fitness spaces. Engaging in one­-​­on­-one ​­ personal training sessions provided a dyadic relationship in which he could focus on the paramountcy of the embodied experiences of fitness training under the eye of an expert trainer whose knowledge he respected.

Reflections  181 Throughout this book we have identified how, historically, gyms been hyper­-​­masculine spaces, arenas in which men can diligently work towards hegemonic understandings of manhood. In particular gyms these values continue to dominate, demonstrated through masculine performances of lifting ‘heavy’, making muscular ‘gains’, risk taking, and an emphasis on the instrumental development of a ‘quantified self’ in which physical perfor­ mance defines self­-​­worth. In response to these oppressive gender dynamics, Amy explored women’s embodied experiences of Spinning and the oppressive patriarchal social relations and practices endured by female gym users. Her analysis demonstrates that some women are confined through certain disciplinary gym practices and dominant notions of ‘cosmetic fitness’ through exercising to burn calories and conforming to domi­nant stereotypical ideals of the female body. Consequently, some of her participants primarily engaged in Spinning to work on their bodies as an aesthetic project. Over time however, many women were able to develop deeper, more immersive, multi­ -​­ sensorial relationships with their exercise regimens, transgressing aesthetic understandings through luxuriating in the joyous pleasures that the Spinning offered. In doing so, they were able to demonstrate resistance in the face of hegemonic discourses, articulating an enjoyment and emotional connection to the activity itself, and fostering a sense of agency by Spinning for their own purposes. Amy’s analysis hints at women being able to transcend the oppressive gendered social dynamics of the gym, promoting structural change through the development of a feminist fitness community. Alternatively, James occupied a masculine body of privilege and encoun­ tered far less oppression in gym spaces. For him, in the aftermath of sporting injury the gym provided a nursery within which he could safely work on his fledgling senses of hegemonic masculinity that were threatened by his body’s fragility. Over time, however, he increasingly valued how the gym re­ -​ ­awakened the carnal pleasures experienced from intense physical exertion which had been absent following a premature end to competitive sport. The intensity of carnal pains and pleasures was most profoundly reproduced through the intoxicating physicality of CrossFit. Through emphasis on maximal effort and its social and competitive structure, in Chapter 7 James highlights how he was able to push to the limit once again, experience burning lungs and muscles and reach endorphin induced highs that he assumed unrealisable post­-​­sport. Returning focus to functional over aesthetic outcomes enabled powerful polymorphic physical sensation; it was immersion in the thrill of a WOD which was central in achieving carnal highs rather than concerns with reflections in the mirror or (re)constructions of a muscled­-​­masculine self. Finally, in our analysis we recognise that have placed importance on the pleasures of ‘going to the gym’. The feelings that arise during a workout however transcend the four walls of the gym itself, impacting on our behaviours, subjectivities and identities. For all of us, the gym is part of

182  James Brighton et al. our daily routines, to the point that we have to consciously ensure we have rest days or are able to enjoy other aspects of our lives without having to push ourselves physically. The heightened sensuosities experienced during ‘intense embodiment’ (Allen­-​­Collinson & Owton, 2015) and the sedimen­ tation of engaging in long term gym work on the body results in enhancing feelings of being sexier, more attractive, confident and powerful. These feelings often translate into elevated pleasures experienced in life’s other embodied pleasures such as eating, drinking and sex. Acknowledging how the sensuousness of going to the gym transcends the time we spend within them exercising is therefore important to consider in the lives of gym goers.

Applications As we have discussed throughout this book, gym trends are informed by current knowledge on fitness and the body. In contemporary times, fitness knowledge is dominated by neoliberal agendas of health and increasingly restrictive standards of bodily perfectionism, ideologies which are learned, transmitted and reinforced through ocularcentric dynamics of society. In taking an embodied approach our analysis has helped facilitate a deeper appreciation of the relationships individuals develop with gym spaces, the intercorporeality between each other as gym users, and the evolvement of a heightened sensorial awareness, all of which constitute essential components of experience (Allen­-Collinson  ​­ & Hockey, 2017). Accordingly, critical understandings can be extended to inform the fitness industry, educational pathways, policy development and individuals themselves to develop their own fitness journeys in more agentic and liberatory ways. First, promoting the embodiedness of exercise is one way of challenging the oppressiveness of the aesthetic hierarchical ordering of bodies and forms of subjugation present in gyms. Fitness providers, trainers and instructors could therefore take steps to advocate the carnal, sensuous, emotional, therapeutic and spiritual benefits of working out in ways which help individuals develop more fulfilling and empowering relationships with gyms and their bodies. During induction consultations, for example, discussions about individuals’ ‘objectives’ for using gyms could emphasise the carnal enjoyment of training as well as more goal orientated outcomes such as ‘losing weight’, ‘toning up’ or ‘putting on more muscle’. For some ‘chasing a feeling’ is seen as a blunt tool in measuring agreed outcomes of fitness such as increased strength, power and reduced body fat. This approach however assumes that all individuals desire similar outcomes and that enjoyment of the workout is subsidiary. It also negates the importance of enjoying our training. Opening doorways to a more sensuous enchantment of ‘going to the gym’ will help individuals develop stronger and more cherished relationships with exercise, aiding long term

Reflections  183 adherence and a more potent achievement of fitness goals over time, as outlined by Figure 9.1. Induction consultations and other sources of knowledge transmission within the gym (e.g. posters) could also be more inclusive of not just the physiological benefits of fitness, but could educate gym users as to the inherent unfinishedness and imperfectness of their bodies by situating physical perfectionism as mythical, temporal and fragile. Such an acknowledgement might broaden individuals’ self­ -​­ perceptions and fitness objectives, assisting in opening up a multitude of ‘variable’ self­-​­reflexive body projects as more empowering gym quests (Monaghan, 2001). This could also include developing understandings of body–self transforming practices more aligned with Easternised movement forms and the broader physical, psycho­ logical and spiritual benefits on their lives and identities (Brown  & Leledaki, 2010). In doing so, gyms might be seen as important institutions in the development of the self and person, not just the temples of aesthetic physical perfectionism that they have become (Chaline, 2015). Advocating sensual and visceral relationships with the gym is therefore one way of responding to the obsession of the ocularcentrically informed product of using gyms, i.e. achieving of the perfect body and repositioning emphasis of the practice of going to the gym i.e. physical training and the embodied pleasures it offers (Richardson, 2012). Shifting focus in this way might also help individuals who have historically been non­-​­gym users develop more valuable early relationships with physical training. For example, individuals who have been ‘referred’ to the gym for medical reasons can transcend clinical definitions of health and prescription of ‘exercise as medicine’ through (re)producing and relishing what captivates many of us about sport and exercise in the first place in the gym – the pure joy, exhilaration and hedonism of physical movement. Seen in these more experiential ways, gyms might be seen as freer, more playful places fostering unrestricted senses of enjoyment. In addition to reframing member perceptions, gyms could also seek to maximise the sensuousness of experience, which could for example be augmented through the careful consideration of visual décor, lighting, mirror positioning, the smellscapes

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Figure 9.1 Enjoyment and developing valued body–self–culture relationships important in structured embodied gym experiences. Figure courtesy of Matt Connolly (www.integrated­-​­performance.com).

184  James Brighton et al. inhaled and the beats and rhythms of accompanying aural terrains (Phoenix & Orr, 2014). Second, gyms should seek to (re)create themselves as more inclusive spaces through scrutinising material layouts and developing a critical awareness of the social and cultural atmospheres and informal localised rules that are generated within their different spaces (Sassatelli, 1999). For example, inclusive gym policies that welcome all participants and reinforce acceptable social interactions might be displayed on gym walls and communicated via social media forums. Such measures might help gyms become less intimidating and more accessible spaces open to a diverse range of users. Given that for many the gym offers an important liminal escape from the routines, responsibilities and restrictions of everyday adult life, fostering inclusiveness rather than otherness is particularly important. Gaining a sense of carnal meditation in the gym is not possible if individuals are subjected to otherness and exclusion and toxic divisive climates; gyms after all are places which we choose to visit in our leisure time and as consumers we are free to make alternative fitness choices if we feel unwelcome. Third, many questions arise in relation to the disparate knowledge and education that exist in alternative gyms. For example: How do individuals learn to use gyms? What fitness knowledge is deemed authentic and why? Are members continually educated or once they sign up are they left to their own means? How is fitness knowledge transmitted between gym users themselves? Who are the ‘experts’ that operate in different gym spaces and what qualifies them to be put in charge of another person’s body? Can individuals ever develop a sense of ‘community’ and personal ownership of gyms, or are these regulatory tools that owners employ to forward corporate objectives? Whilst there is some debate as to the knowledge gained in becoming a ‘coach’, one of the purported advantages of CrossFit for example is the omnipresence of a fitness expert who can help teach and regulate movements. Many boxes also offer fundamentals courses to help individuals grasp the basics and engrain philosophies of movement. Although MLCs and globogyms might not be able to provide constant surveillance of their members’ movements and routines, they might be able to offer educational workshops and seminars that guide individuals in cor­ rectly using particular pieces of equipment or in executing specific move­ ments safely and effectively. Developing sensorial and kinaesthetic awareness can here be employed as key pedagogical tools as gym users learn to feel the correct movement for themselves and reproduce it independently. Members of gyms could also have access to online coaching tools, complementary online programming and have the option to record and upload movements (e.g. a deadlift) and invite for comment as ‘prosumers’ (Millington, 2016; 2018). Although such data promises ownership and community, imple­ menting such educational strategies of course requires critical reflection of

Reflections  185 the roles and knowledge transmitted by fitness professionals and forms of fitness deemed authentic. Clearly, all of these suggestions are difficult to engrain within gyms and their localised cultural conditions and social relations in which particular forms of capital have become established, sedimented and accepted over time (Sassatelli, 2010). Critical analyses of the spatial arrangements of gyms and contemporary ideologies of bodily perfectionism might however help a more diverse range of people develop more positive relationships and attachments with fitness spaces. Ultimately, many of the forms of oppres­ sion that occur in gyms remain microcosmic of broader patriarchal, hetero­ normative, racialised, ableist, ageist and classed societal structures. Agendas for change must therefore address the reproduction of these broader forms of discrimination inside gyms and celebrate performances of individual agency in response to them.

Limitations and future directions We are aware that we have only offered a limited analysis of gym bodies and have omitted multiple avenues of exploration that are important to acknowledge. Privilege has been afforded to a small number of gym practices, which in many instances were driven by our own pre­-​­existing interests. Whilst not necessarily a weakness as this condensed scope allowed for more in­-​­depth analysis (Wolcott, 2005), further widespread investigations of gym practices could be undertaken both with more established class­-​­based exercise such as Les Mills’ bodypump (which emphasises ‘time under tension’ in order to get results), or high intensity interval training (HIIT) as well neoteric fitness movements such as SoulCycle, F45 Training and home-based fitness move­ ments such as Peloton cycling. Here, explorations could be extended to include a consideration of global gym trends beyond the metropole, offering a response to Western­ -centric ​­ understandings of fitness and the body (Andreasson & Johansson, 2014a; b; Johansson & Andreasson, 2016; 2017). Similarly, our analysis has only covered a limited number of gyms which were identified as important sites due to the historical evolvement and current political landscapes of contemporary fitness. As others have identified, analysis of the development of intimate and changing relation­ ships between self, body and social context is dependent on where and when contexts are produced, who these are produced by, and the implications this has for the experiences and expectations of individuals (Holstein  & Gubrium, 2004; Sparkes, 2010). Further in­-​­depth sociological critique should therefore continue to examine alternative gym spaces as they continue to stratify including women­-​­only gyms (e.g. Shapers), boutique gyms, strength and conditioning facilities and the role of gyms in schools, colleges and universities. Doing so will more adequately establish the where and when of the lived experience of gym bodies and who and what informs these experiences in alternative fitness contexts.

186  James Brighton et al. Given the importance of the ‘where’ in contextualising experience, multi­-​ ­isciplinary, theoretically­ d -​­ eclectic explorations of the spatial location of everyday fitness facilities should be attempted. As Edmonds (2019) has undertaken with CrossFit boxes, broader fitness spaces could be explored through extending Lefebvre’s (1991) and Massey’s (2001) spatial geographical work on the creation of place and one’s position within it. Such analysis can further delineate the spatial and temporal components of fitness place and how it is continually produced, reproduced and co­-constituted ​­ with other embodied actors and the imagined nostalgia that arises through the desires of the present. In particular, Lefebvre’s work holds potential in exploring bodily sensation and creativity in time and space, offering useful avenues for the embodied explorations of experiencing bodies in fitness spaces (Simonsen, 2016). We are also aware that the corporeal experiences, in the main, have been made through our own embodied identities; that is, we are all white, relate as able­-​­bodied and by profession at least, are distinguished as middle class. Consequently, much of our analyses focus on gender, class, age, sexuality without adequate consideration of the racial, ethnic or disabled identities or the intersection of these identities on the embodied experiences of gym users. In particular, more rigorous analysis of bodies that have been deemed ‘non­-​­normative’ in gym spaces offers important terrains of analysis. The embodied experiences of disabled gym users have for example received scant academic attention and require development (Richardson, Smith  & Papathomas, 2017; Brighton, 2018). Such analysis helps reveal the material and structural oppression disabled people and other ‘non­-​­normative’ gym users experience and has considerable importance in questioning tacit assumptions that underpin fitness knowledge. In spite of our early intentions in planning out this book, we offer very limited analysis of technology and the way it interacts with the body in fitness spaces. Consideration of the effect that new technologies and scientific thinking about the (healthy) body have upon traditional forms of social knowledge relating to the body requires further acknowledgement. This could include establishing the corporeal relationships individuals develop with fitness equipment and the increasing prevalence of surveillance technologies such as wearable exercise trackers which measure the body and monitor fitness activity (e.g. Lupton, 2014; Millington, 2016). Further explorations are also needed that address the increasing presence and effect of mobile phone technologies, ‘bio­-​ games’ and other forms of ‘extertainment’ on corporeality and consumer ­ choices made (Millington, 2014a; b). Doing so will further help unpack the dynamics of the prosumption of contemporary fitness and contribute to richer depictions of how embodied identities such as gender are constructed in movement cultures, shedding further light on the intensifying evolvement of ‘serious’ amateur athletic identities (Dawson, 2017; Hockey, 2019). As Millington (2014a; b; 2016; 2018) has previously noted, as part of the ‘second boom’ of fitness, becoming a prosumer is important in demonstrating

Reflections  187 commitment and communicating serious and specialised fitness identities to others. Just as wearing exercise apparel was important in the first fitness boom during which times gyms became more accessible, it could be argued that these trends have now escalated and diversified. Whereas skin hugging Lycra was predominantly worn within gyms to enhance feelings of getting ready to exercise and wick sweat, we now increasingly adorn our bodies with fitness clothing outside of gym contexts (Sassatelli, 2010; Hockey, 2019). The clothing choices we make distinguish our fitness practices, whether that makes us a MAMIL (middle­-​­aged man in Lycra), a yogi, or a CrossFit wanker, our attire symbolically reflects our commitment to distinct bodily practices and our affluence. Many brands such as Lululemon or NOBULL, for example, offer opulent garments that are as much luxury fashion statements as they are practical in the gym. Furthermore, the tightness of gym clothing perhaps more exquisitely shows off the trim, toned, muscled bodies individuals have worked hard to achieve outside of gym contexts. Whereas bodybuilders once wore ‘baggies’ to hide the freakishness of their hyper­-muscled ​­ bodies and the ‘shame’ surrounding the assumed narcissistic quest for physical perfection (Sparkes, Batey  & Owen, 2012), the tightness of fitness apparel and mainstream fashion have now wed. Clothing now promulgates the gym shaped body. Indeed, it is now such an expectation amongst a young urban population to possess a gym body that we can now purchase garments that are ‘muscle fit’. Clothing is of course only one element that distinguishes our gym identities to the outside world. Further exploration is also required into the everydayness of embodied fitness practice such as how more intense pursuits of fitness affect individuals’ broader lifestyle habits (e.g. diets), the sacrifices of dedication to the gym (e.g. influence on relationships and careers) and the risks undertaken, such as IPED use, not just amongst bodybuilders but amateur gym users and CrossFitters. Finally, whilst much of our analysis concentrates on the construction of gym identities, little in­-depth ​­ attention has been given to the consequences of the inevitability of gym work stopping. The bodies we build will eventually deteriorate and crumble with age. Although ‘going to the gym’ has been celebrated as having anti­-​­ageing qualities by slowing the rate of corporeal decay, we must still develop alternative relationships with fitness spaces as we grow older (Sparkes, 2010). Equally, we must not feel dictated to that certain gym practices are age appropriate. Through undertaking CrossFit, for example, both Ian and James exceeded the levels of physical attainment they thought they were capable of. Further research should therefore continue to develop how positive ageing identities can be developed in alternative fitness contexts (Humberstone, 2010), including the important role the gym has to play in the transition from professional sporting identities and the development of new body–self relationships. We would argue that further explorations highlighted above could be made through embodied sociological approaches that acknowledge the enfleshed carnality of gym users and how

188  James Brighton et al. intersections of gender, sexuality, age, disability, race and ethnicity inform our experiences, subjectivities and identities.

Personal reflections on own gym journeys Given that the primary focus of our research centred on carnal experiences of gym bodies, we conclude by way of reflecting on our own gym journeys. Throughout our analysis we have acknowledged our own reflexive position in exploring gym bodies in the past. As Sparkes (2003: 159) highlights, these “memories help us piece together who we are, what we are, and where we are in particular times and places as we enter different chapters of our lives and provide cultural analysis over time”. In drawing this book to an end, we use these memories in informing understandings of where our gym bodies are in the present and what our futures might hold.

James Growing up, forging a high performance sporting body was central to my sense of self and personal expression. Being forced to depart competitive sport at a young age was tortuous. After the initial shockwaves of injury subsided and I eventually withdrew from sporting subcultures, a void remained in my life. I was not just mourning a previous athletic identity, but also experiencing the loss of the embodied highs of sporting participation and the everyday disciplinary routines of training. As Gairdner (2019: 181) highlights, like other sportsmen and women I was left asking, “How do I replace the ecstatic joy and pleasure from engagement in my sport? How do I replace the thrill of risk, when my post­-​­sport body suffers in pain?” The gym, in part, provided the answers to these questions, allowing me to reassert control over the ‘alien presence’ (Leder, 1990) of injury. Lifting weight not only helped me adjust to living in a different body that I was not accustomed to, it cultivated a new, bigger, stronger body, a body with which I could develop valued relationships with once again. The gym reminded me that I remained capable of producing powerful and productive movement; lifting heavy and experiencing ‘gains’ provided new thrills. Furthermore, in response to the threat injury presented to my fledgling manhood, the gym acted as the nursery to work on valued senses of hegemonic masculinity, imbuing it once more with valued forms of social and physical capital (Bourdieu, 1990). I felt confident again. My mind became clearer. I had a new sense of purpose. Having used a variety of gyms over the years, I have constructed a new sense of athletic identity and am now fully ‘out’ as a ‘CrossFit wanker’. I train six times a week and my daily embodied routines revolve around the 5  pm class. Once a beginner, I am now able to execute important movement standards such as kipping and muscle­-​­ups. I am increasingly comfortable with being uncomfortable. I am leaner. My limbs feel lighter.

Reflections  189 I move faster. The surfaces of my body display the corporeal markers of CrossFit. My shins are scraped, hands callused, thumbs grazed; arteries ‘pop’ under translucent skin clearly visible on top of striated muscle. I respond appro­priately to linguistic codes and banter. I wear Reebok and Rogue t­-​­shirts and Nike Metcon trainers. I am constantly in a state of DOMS  – and cherish every ache and strain in each WOD undertaken (Figure 9.2). Rather than enduring the constant anguish of nostalgically reminiscing about a past sporting body, through identifying as a CrossFitter therefore I am now able to look forward, thinking about what movements I need to master or what WOD times I need to improve. Admittedly, CrossFit will never completely replace my emotional attachment to other sports I excelled in when younger, nor will I ever be very good, yet it provides me with perhaps what I crave most  – a valued sense of purpose and the reinvention of a competitive athletic self (Dawson, 2017). Perhaps more importantly than ever I value the everyday bodily re­-​­awakening experienced from going to the box. After being sedentary for most of the day, cooped up in academic confines within which the cognitive takes precedence, I am often left feeling psychologically and emotionally exhausted. I look forward to getting to CrossFit as a form of corporeal meditation in which I can enjoy moving, lifting and stretching, escaping the con­ sciousness of everyday life. Often isolated in the day, I particularly enjoy

Figure 9.2 Completing a WOD. Photograph courtesy of Nicole Vanner Photography.

190  James Brighton et al. exercising with friends and socialising in a class environment. I know that there is WOD to be completed and even if I am not ‘up for it’ others will carry me through on their wave and we will suffer together (Atkinson, 2010; 2016; Figure 9.3). My knee still does not withstand the impact of running or allow the execution of certain Rx movement standards where deep squatting is required. Occasionally I am also provided with chilling reminders as to fragility of my body when I push too far. In such instances, pain once again consumes my body. I feel nauseous. Energy seeps from my pores. I withdraw into myself. It reminds me I’m on borrowed time before I break down again. The knowledge obtained from using gyms and lifting weight over time has however established a kinaesthetic grounding through which as a ‘corporeal device’ (Evans, Davies and Rich, 2009) I am able to manage my body to minimise further injury. As time passes, I have become better at synthesising my insecurities, angers and emotions. I have come more to terms with the ‘contingence’ (Frank, 1995) on my body. Whilst I still harbour corrosive thoughts towards its failure, I accept injury, pain and ageing as part of life. I remain grateful for the exercise I can do and gyms which provide a safe and controlled environment to retreat to within which I am accepted. Whenever I experience emotional duress, it’s the first place I head to in order to gain a liminal break and cathartic release from the pain

Figure 9.3 Joint suffering. Photograph courtesy of Nicole Vanner Photography.

Reflections  191 of life. The gym is, and always will be, my place of salvation through which I repair a broken and incoherent body and self. If I’m being completely honest with myself, working out still holds aesthetic importance. I like to look fit and young. Having developed an identity through gym work, there is pressure to retain my fit looking body. In my early days of weight training, back when I was 19 or 20, I often used to partner up and train with a 68­-​­year­-​­old bodybuilder. He looked more like 35. His muscles were still plump and firm, his skin taut, tanned and blemish free, and he had an exquisite six pack. He had a wife who was in her mid­-​­thirties which further validated his seemingly eternal youth. “I’m like Peter Pan,” he used to joke. His secret to anti­-​­aging, he claimed, was “drinking the iron medicine”. Whilst I cannot deny that I remain motivated to maintain a certain look, I am now far more attuned to the way going to the gym makes my body feel. I still get a high from visiting ‘pump city’ after doing a ‘swole’ session, I constantly crave the post­-​­WOD euphoria and I love the tight feeling my body retains after decades of resistance training. My muscles are in a constant state of arousal or DOMS. I gain heightened pleasure from sex and eating and sleep better when I’ve trained. ‘Going to the gym’ reminds me that I am embodied, alive and open to experience the carnal joys that this life has to offer and enables the construction of meaningful, fulfilling and empowering relationships with my body and the world around me.

Ian Like James, the gym (in particular CrossFit) has filled the gap left by my inability to continue the sport that had occupied so much of my life. In my case, an eye condition has meant that I can no longer compete in tennis the way that I had done in the past. However, the gym space provides a safe haven in that I can still actively engage (and compete) in physical activities in a way that I could not in tennis where focusing on a fast moving ball was central to any chance of competing in the way I wanted to. Consequently, like James, CrossFit has provided not only the opportunity to maintain an active lifestyle but has also offered another form of sporting identity (or ‘package’) that was so important when we played our previous sports. CrossFit provides a tangible sporting identity that signals to me and others that I do sport. Why this is so important has been a constant question that I have contended with throughout my academic career. I have included the photo below (Figure 9.4) as it forces me to reflect upon my own embodied identity. While I consider that I remain an outsider in terms of my own sense of what a being a CrossFit athlete entails, the evidence in the photo might suggest otherwise. As such, the photo makes me realise how far I have come in the last few years. I have outlined this process in more detail elsewhere (Wellard, 2018). However, if I take a quick stocktake of my CrossFit credentials – such as competing at Rx in the

192  James Brighton et al.

Figure 9.4 Ian’s gym identity. Photograph courtesy of Nicole Vanner Photography.

last four CrossFit Opens, acquiring several CrossFit coaching qualifications and also teaching CrossFit to groups of students – my claims about being on the fringes appear less convincing. What this suggests is that our self­ -​ ­perceptions of identity are not necessarily the same as the identity seen by others. For example, I recently contributed a chapter to an edited collection

Reflections  193 exploring embodied thinking in higher education (Leigh, 2019). In this book, the editor had asked fellow contributors to provide a brief reflection on one of the other chapters. In my case, Nicole Brown ventured a response and it was interesting to read how someone from a completely different discipline (and who declared that movement of the sporty kind was not something that she did) shared similar sentiments about the importance of embodied reflexivity. Nevertheless, I did feel that her general impression of me was that of a ‘jock’. In this case, although she had not seen me, my writing had conveyed to her a sense of what being sporty entailed  – and reinforced an already established understanding of her relationship with sport. I can only imagine that had she seen the picture above, it would have fuelled her feelings of non­-​­sportiness even further. The important point here is that any meaningful discussion needs to be accompanied by not only awareness of our political and theoretical sentiments but also with recognition of our embodied selves and reflecting upon the ways that we see ourselves and how others might. Consequently, while James, Amy and I have learned to embrace the sweat, pain and exhaustion as a welcome part of the whole package of doing sport, we realise that our enthusiasm has been developed over a period of time and we cannot make broad assumptions that others will necessarily follow suit. Indeed, I am constantly reminded of this when I think about my partner (of 25 years) who has absolutely no interest in gyms or taking part in any form of exercise training. Being reflexive and mindful of the complex subjectivities at play in any form of embodied reflection is always going to be difficult. However, a photo such as the one above can provide a mechanism to consider the implications of our perceived identities and academic intentionality. Maybe, in doing so, they can act like the ‘flappers’ that kept the scientists on Laputa on track in Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels.

Amy Over time, my views of the gym have altered. I no longer instruct classes, or personally train clients. Relinquished from the necessity of continuously negotiating alternative presentations of self and bodily capital I was concerned with as an instructor, I have built fulfilling relationships with the gym, my body and others. I now immerse myself in a different gym culture which is not considered a ‘spit and sawdust’, but one which is more aligned to comfortable MLC. The fresh smell, new equipment and more relaxed atmosphere now acts as welcome relief to my early experiences of a spit and sawdust gym as I grow older. Early gym memories will always be an important foundation to my gym practices and I still consider the gym an important aspect of my life. However I am now free to access more enjoyable and liberating corporeal experiences that my body has to offer whilst working out just for myself. Whilst Spinning, for example, I am now able to focus on the beat of the music and how my body can synchronise to its

194  James Brighton et al. flows and rhythms, all whilst keeping my head down and focusing on just my own senses of enjoyment. I am also free to experience the embodiedness of participating in a variety of gym practices such as yoga, and if I wish switch off from others around me. In doing so, I have developed refreshing senses of rapport in my relationships with others. Talking to other female gym users away from the auspices of research, I further realise that I was not alone in feeling certain emotional anxieties or being subjected to alternative forms of oppression in gym spaces. I encourage women who are able to resist and challenge these forms of oppression, and help them where possible by communicating my research to others. I still use the gym to look after my body’s overall health, but am thankful that I am not continually on show. Going to the gym has enabled me to interpret and make sense of my own body–self relationships and has helped me gain clearer understandings of my life. And for that, I am thankful. We all are.

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Appendix 1 Judgement criteria employed

Emergence and inductiveness: • Has empirical data been collected as it occurred? Width: • Are data collection and analysis methodologies adequate, and are ‘raw’ data of participants provided so the reader can make a judgement on our interpretations? Coherence: • Internally, has a unified representation of participants been provided, and do findings represent how participants themselves understand their lives? Externally, how do findings sit with existing theory? Insightfulness: • What new knowledge is generated and how do findings encourage the reader to reflect upon fitness cultures? Evocativeness: • Have thick, rich, meaningful experiences of gym users been provided? Reflexivity: • Have we reflected on our own senses of embodiment and how they are presented, performed and interpreted in the field; do we recognise the social, cultural and political structures we are saturated in; have we demonstrated capacity for compassion and empathy?

Appendix 2 WOD acronyms in CrossFit

Every minute, on the minute (EMOM): Completion of a set number of reps of an exercise/exercises every minute. As many reps as possible (AMRAP): Complete a set number of reps and exercises which they are required to complete as many times as possible in a given period of time. For example, ‘Cindy’ is 5 pull­-​­ups, 10 press­-​­ups, 15 bodyweight squats. 21–15–9: Athletes complete 21 reps of an exercise, then 21 reps of usually one another exercise, then 15 reps of each and 9 of each to finish. For example, the workout ‘Fran’ is 21–15–9 Thrusters (95 lbs/65 lbs) 10 to 1: Athletes alternately complete 10, then 9, then 8 all the way down to 1 rep as quickly as possible. For example, ‘Linda’ is Deadlift (1.5x bodyweight), Bench Press (1x bodyweight), and Clean (0.75x bodyweight). Chippers: Athletes are required to work their way through a set number of reps over a number of exercises quickly as possible. For example, the workout ‘Filthy Fifty’ is 50 box jumps (24/20 inch box); 50 jumping pull­-​ ­ups; 50 kettle bell swings; 50 walking lunges; 50 knees­-​­to­-​­elbows; 50 push press (45/35 lbs); 50 back extensions; 50 wall balls (20/14 lbs); 50 burpees; 50 double­-unders ​­ (rope passes underneath the athlete twice).

Appendix 3 The original ‘girls’

The original ‘girls’ (adapted from Glassman (2003) http://library.crossfit. com/free/pdf/13_03_Benchmark_Workouts.pdf and Glassman (2004) http://​ library.crossfit.com/free/pdf/27_04_new_girls.pdf) The benchmark ‘girls’ Angie

Barbara

Chelsea Cindy Diane Elizabeth Fran Grace Helen Isabel Jackie Karen

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

100 pull­-​­ups 100 push­-​­ups 100 sit­-​­ups 100 squats 20 pull­-​­ups 30 push­-​­ups 40 sit­-​­ups 50 squats Rest 3 minutes between each round 5 pull­-​­ups 10 push­-​­ups 15 squats 5 pull­-​­ups 10 push­-​­ups 15 squats 225­-​­lb deadlifts Handstand push­-​­ups 135­-​­lb cleans Ring dips 95­-​­lb thrusters Pull­-​­ups 135­-​­lb clean and jerks Run 400 metres 1.5­-​­pood kettlebell swings, 21 reps 12 pull­-​­ups 135­-​­lb snatches 1,000 metres row 45­-​­lb thrusters, 50 reps 30 pull­-​­ups 150 wall­-​­balls, 20­-​­lb ball

For time

5 rounds, each for time

30 minute EMOM AMRAP (20 mins) 21–15–9 reps for time 21–15–9 reps for time 21–15–9 reps for time 30 reps for time 3 rounds for time 30 reps for time For time For time

200  Appendix 3 Appendix 3 continued The benchmark ‘girls’ Linda Mary Nancy

• • • • • • • •

1½ body­-​­weight deadlifts Body­-​­weight bench presses ¾ body­-​­weight cleans 5 handstand push­-​­ups 10 1­-​­legged squats 15 pull­-​­ups 400 metres run 95­-​­lb overhead squats, 15 reps

10–9–8–7–6–5–4–3–2–1 reps for time AMRAP (20 min) 5 rounds for time

Index

Page numbers in italics denote figures. able bodies 62, 94, 115, 142; and the binary configuration of disabled bodies as opposite and unequal to 180; and disabled binaries 179; experienced gym users with strong 86; in gym cultures 179; perfect 180 ableism 59 ableist discourses 142, 185 ableist instructions 179 abuse in gyms 59–60 aches 72, 150, 164, 189 activities 12, 31, 100, 107; contested 141; extreme 137; gym 12, 16; gymbased 153; self-sadistic 136; sensemaking 167; sporting 25, 99–100, 163; timed 110 aerobics revolution 39 aesthetic appeal 153, 180, 191; of gym facilities 68; of one’s body 3; ranks second to performance 138 aesthetic hierarchical ordering of bodies and forms of subjugation in gyms 182 agency 7, 136, 171, 174, 181; human 120; individual 46, 104, 185; personal 130 aggressive urban development 71 Allen-Collinson, J. 22–26, 164 amateur athletic identities 23, 56, 186 anabolic steroids 46, 68 anaerobic threshold 122, 125, 136 analysis 24, 56, 129, 185; academic 20, 119; corporeal 79; cultural 188; embodied 74; limited 167, 185–186; nuanced 171, 173; sensorial 123; sensuous 120; spatial 16, 94; symbolic 31; thematic 61 Andreasson, J. 29–30

Andrews, D.L. 40, 114 annual gym fees 91 anorexia athletica 46 anorexia nervosa 46 appearance 40, 42, 57, 80, 140–141, 154–157, 163, 174; bodily 3, 155; physical 44, 101; prioritising 45 approaches 12, 15, 20–21, 24, 31–32, 53, 85, 94, 105–106, 113–114, 173–174, 180, 182; alternative 22; autoethnographic 15; constructionist 14, 105; decentralised 91; embodied methodological 53, 174; embodied sociological 14, 21, 62, 187; ethnographic 16; feminist phenomenological 23–24; inspired 24; interdisciplinary 16, 90; multitheoretical 32; phenomenological 21, 172; reflexive 15, 61; sociological phenomenological 22–23; theoretical 12, 14, 20; umbrella 105, 113 arguments 77, 103–104, 115, 141, 158, 160, 163, 176, 178; neoliberal 115; of Smith Maguire adopting a Bourdieusian lens 103; theoretical 113 athletes 3, 43, 45, 99, 113, 117, 119–121, 126–127, 131, 136, 142–143, 157, 198; amateur 72; experienced 132; female 44, 140; Olympic Games 118, 133 Atkinson, M. 127, 134, 136, 190 awareness 8, 102, 115, 166–167, 178, 193; embodied 112; individual’s everyday 167 barbells 28, 38, 57, 65–66, 135 barriers 15, 178–179; cultural 133; given 15, 179; social 76

202  Index bars 47, 67, 84–85, 92, 120–122, 124–125, 135, 138; clanging 125; heavy weighted 65; Olympic lifting 65, 92; uneven 10 beach arena 144, 145 biceps muscles 67, 81 ‘bigorexia’ (phenomena) 46 bikes 11, 150–153, 159–160, 164–165, 167; favourite 159; instructor’s 163; stationary exercise 153; towels and water bottles lined up on the 150 BITZ see being in the zone blood 27, 29, 92, 110–111, 113, 126; pulsing 122; pumping 122; red 2; spilling 16, 117 bodies 21–22, 38, 45, 80, 84; corporeal 111; disabled 45, 79, 179–180; disciplined 167; docile 11, 160; dysmorphia 46; exercising 166; female 23–24, 44, 138, 140, 168, 181; fetishised 89; fit 100, 174; gendered 24, 88, 106; gym 12, 14–15, 17, 20–22, 29, 31–32, 53, 56, 62, 82, 171–173, 185, 187–188; healthy 37, 100, 104, 115, 155; hyper-muscled 72, 180, 187; individual 27, 164; male 8, 14, 38, 80, 178–179; orgasmic 29; perfectionism 43, 45; perspiring 80; physical 99; post-sport 188; privileged 57, 172; projects 15, 42, 47, 104, 174, 183; pumped-up 87; real 20, 79, 86; sensuous 1, 171, 174; sudoriferous 81 bodily 43, 176, 187; capital 82, 156–158, 193; experiences 14, 20, 22, 24, 167; performances 74, 81, 83, 156, 177–178 body projects 43, 176 body–self relationships 17, 22, 87, 187, 194 bodybuilders 6, 8, 27, 30–31, 39, 46, 68, 73, 82, 87, 129, 134, 141, 187, 191; competitive 84; female 42, 45, 180; intimate connection 141; preening 88; wheelchair 180 bodybuilding 38–39, 41–42, 46, 70–72, 76, 87–88, 98, 176; conceptualising 24; culture 38; gyms 72; habitus 44; knowledge 6; subcultures 46; training 71; work 57 body–self–culture relationships 183 bodyweight 155, 198 bodyweight squats 198 Bourdieu, Pierre 13, 43, 46, 85, 103–104, 124, 173

boutique gyms 40, 185; see also gyms ‘boxes’ 54, 57, 67, 90–92, 110, 117, 119, 123, 125, 129, 131–132, 143, 184, 189, 198; early 92; first garage 92; life inside the’ 145; university 61; wooden 65, 92 breath 150–151, 164 breathing 14, 22, 27, 65; coordinated patterns 165; heavy 121, 125; laboured 167 Brighton, James 55, 58, 135 Brown, Nicole 193 bulimia nervosa 46 Bunsell, T. 27, 30, 42, 54, 86, 129, 134, 140–141, 180 calories 155–156 capacity 100, 138, 157–158, 177; emotional 143; individual’s 157; self‑reflective 29 cardio and strength workouts 17, 153 cardio workouts 153 careers 2, 4, 15, 143, 187, 191; academic 4, 191; high-level sporting 2 carnal 171, 182, 188; conceptualisation of gym bodies 172; enjoyment of training 182; meditation in the gym 184; understandings (of the lives of gym users) 22, 172 carnal joys 191 carnal metamorphoses 120, 137, 141; amongst women 139; experience of 141; and reinvention 137–141 carnality 1, 15, 23, 31–32, 62, 153; enfleshed 14, 187; unique 141 Cartesian mind/body dualisms 21, 172 central sociological variables (gender, age, class, ethnicity, disability, and specific power relations) 22 certificates 91, 129 Chaline, E. 37–39, 41, 99, 183 changing rooms 67–68, 74, 77–83, 175; acting as pan-optic and disciplinary spaces 82; constitute an important part of the ‘whole package’ of the experience of going to the gym 78; female 77; layout, facilities and cleanliness of 77–78 changing rooms spaces 77–78 choice 40, 46, 152; alternative fitness 184; consumers 176, 186; free market 40; lifestyle 13, 39, 41, 73, 173; moral 42; self-reflexive 156

Index  203 circuit 2, 73, 105–106; of bodily interactions 106; of body-reflexive pleasures 106; training 12 classes 22, 25, 73, 76, 91, 120, 122–123, 129–130, 137, 142–143, 150–152, 154–155, 157–158, 160–163, 165–167; completed 61; instructing 158; regular 11; size of 91; weekend 57; working 82, 175 clean and jerk technique 84 clients 11, 28, 39, 54, 87, 91, 98, 101–103, 107, 109, 115, 157; paying 102; possible 158; training 193 clothes 43–44, 76, 79, 152, 156 clubs 2, 6, 13, 39, 55, 67, 73–74, 76, 78–80, 84, 90, 143, 173; country 78; local 6; modern lifestyle 13, 16, 67, 73–74, 76–79, 83–86, 88–90, 93–94, 117–118, 125, 140–141, 175, 177, 184 coach-athletes 28, 91 coaches 5, 9, 26, 91, 93, 102, 107–110, 112–114, 125–126, 128–129, 132, 134, 142, 175, 184 colleges 4, 38, 70, 185 commercial gyms 3, 13, 16, 70–72, 76–77, 176 community 13, 27, 57–58, 72, 94, 120, 127, 134, 142–143, 153–154, 176, 184; embodied feminist 154; feminist fitness 181; fitness 82; inclusive 154; online 41; sense of 154 competition 10, 16, 57, 85, 118–119, 129–131; amateur 39; embodied 120, 141; functional fitness 143, 144; internal 119; local 54; masters 179; organised 130; personal 130; professional 39; regional CrossFit 140 competitive sports 119, 133, 181, 188 competitors 5, 109–110, 131–132 conditioning coaches 4; see also coaches Connell, R.W. 3, 105–106 consciousness 21–22, 88, 123, 125, 133, 165, 172, 189; body re-enters 165; embodied 21; increasing 46; organised aural 166 constructions 3, 8, 38, 42, 45, 56–57, 120, 125, 155–156, 159, 172, 174, 181, 187, 191; classed 26; cultural 90; discursive 20, 102; dominant 82 consumer culture 24, 42, 108 consumers 39, 41, 102, 174, 184 control 3, 40, 42, 46–47, 101, 103–104, 114, 141, 152, 160, 162; of the

environment 190; quality 91; of society 141 ‘corporeal devices’ 126, 136, 190 corporeal experiences 166; personal 21; shared 143 corporeal imperialism 141–142 CrossFit 4–5, 16, 40–41, 54–58, 89–92, 111, 117–121, 123–125, 127, 129–133, 135–143, 145, 176–179, 189, 191–192; adaptive 143; athletes 126, 130, 133, 142, 191; bodies 130, 140; boxes 57, 90–92, 175–177, 186; brand 91; classes 54, 65; coaching qualifications 91, 143, 192; cultures 57, 137, 141–142; defining 141; ‘doing’ 16, 94, 117; enables individuals of all ages, abilities and experiences to participate with the same or similar movements and training intensities 118; fitness 117–118, 181; Games 5, 119, 133; global 127; identities 142, 145; key themes emerging 16; members 59; prioritising over career objectives 143; reinforcing 140; teaching to groups of students 192; undertaking 143, 187; undertaking collaboratively 143 CrossFit 813, Tampa, Florida 55 CrossFit Coaching Qualification 91 CrossFit Spaces, CrossFit Café, Virginia Beach, USA 93 CrossFit Spaces, CrossFit Niner, Portugal 92 CrossFitters 5, 30, 57, 119–120, 122, 125–129, 133–134, 136–138, 141–142, 176–177, 187, 189; amateur 143; and arguments surrounding the authentication of alternative forms of fitness 141; competing against each other 132; current 137; experienced 125–126, 136; female 133, 140; gaining pleasure 141; inexperienced 125; neophyte 136; risk developing corporeally imperialistic understandings of 133; struggle of self and will 134 Crystal Palace 72 cultural 31, 105–106, 137; analysis 188; atmospheres 184; conditions 41, 185; ideology 25; relations 43; settings 25; understandings 27, 30; worlds 12, 16, 175 culture 21, 31, 173, 175, 181; consumerist 42; experiential and lived

204  Index culture continued 20; gym bodies and fitness 1, 3, 5, 7, 9, 11, 13, 15, 17; impregnated mainstream 72; and society 21; superficial 43; Western 24, 37 cycling 17, 40, 92, 138, 153–154, 185; indoor 153; outdoor 153; Peloton 185 data 41, 53, 55–56, 61, 174, 184, 197; collection 53, 174, 197; empirical 197; gathering 56; intensiveness of 41; sensitive 61 Davies, B. 126, 190 Dawson, M.C. 45, 67, 91, 120, 129, 131, 136, 139, 177, 186, 189 deadlifts 4, 91, 110, 184, 198, 200 deltoids 3, 87 design 16, 84, 92, 123, 160; and facilitate personal fitness programmes on a one-to-one basis 102; to isolate differing body parts 66; qualitative research 16 developing 10–11, 15, 22, 27–28, 31, 53, 59–60, 104–105, 120, 126, 153–154, 171–172, 175, 180, 184; amateur athletic identities 72; embodied ways of knowing in alternative movement cultures 25; exercise intensity 90; hegemonic forms 14; heightened pain thresholds 133; muscles 10; muscularity 173; relationships 58; skillsets 10; strategies 134; tight knit bonds 154; understandings of how individuals learn embodied gym practices 28, 105; understandings of others’ experiences 28, 105, 172, 183 development 2, 17, 27–28, 37, 45, 70, 73, 120, 134, 141–143, 145, 173–175, 181, 183, 185–187; aesthetic 39; aggressive urban 71; muscular 41; policy 182; property 72 disabled people 177–179, 186 discipline 3–4, 30, 32, 45, 48, 160, 174, 193; knowledge of fitness and the body 67; sporting 157 discourses 7–8, 38, 40, 47, 100, 104, 106, 109, 113–115, 126, 158; broader political 47, 100, 115; contemporary 7, 47, 115; cultural 46, 104; dominant 46, 173; of health 47, 100; heteronormative 8, 120; of knowledge 103, 107; masculinist 125; medicoscientific 38; popular 155, 157; social 17, 108, 177

DOMS see delayed onset of muscle soreness dynamics 72, 75, 108, 145, 172, 175, 186; cultural 77, 94; oppressive gender 181; strict socio-cultural 83 edgeworkers 136–137 Edmonds, S.E. 67, 90, 92–93, 130, 142, 186 education 87–88, 184, 193; resource materials 103; strategies 184; workshops 184 elite competitors 5; see also competitors embodied 1, 55, 107, 113, 171, 182, 194; activities 14, 21, 117, 143; approach 14–15, 31–32, 62, 104–107, 115, 163, 168, 171, 173, 179, 182; experiences of using gyms 24, 53, 104, 115, 120, 152, 164, 175; fragilities 59; identities 12, 14, 186, 191; methodological considerations 53–62; pleasurable feelings 29; pleasures 11, 14, 182–183; research methodologies 16; routines 66, 73, 83, 123, 129, 188; sociological understanding 172; understanding of gym bodies and movement cultures. 20, 105 embodiment 12, 22, 25, 37, 42, 45, 105, 126, 138, 141, 171, 173, 197; feminine 140; gendered 23; human 31; intense 22, 29, 126, 131, 164, 182; sporting 23 emotional 12, 14–15, 20–22, 24, 56, 59, 123, 141, 143, 153, 160–162, 164–165, 173, 179, 181–182; anxieties 194; attachments 189; beings 21; bodies 160; demands 129; duress 190; experimentation 26; pleasure 172 emotions 4, 10, 29, 160–162, 190; feminine 162; masculine 162; simulating 161 empirical research 42, 143, 173 employees 157–158 empowerment 16–17, 86, 129–130, 138, 154, 171 engagement 43, 47, 60, 75, 99, 105, 129, 138, 156, 167, 172, 188; embodied 166; emotional 12; lifelong 53 enjoyment 7–8, 123, 163, 165, 181–183, 194 entrepreneurs 103–104 environment 4, 10, 16, 27, 80–81, 83, 130, 190; class 190; competitive group 130; control of 190

Index  205 equipment 38–39, 41, 83–85, 87, 90–91, 94, 179, 184; ancillary 67; antiquated resistance 1; basic 13; expressive 163; fitness 103, 186; leftover 47; little cardiovascular 83; new 193; permanent 38; portable 38 ethnography relationships 56, 62 everyday fitness 67, 186 exercise 5–6, 8, 22–23, 25, 27–28, 37, 39–40, 46–48, 80, 82–83, 87–88, 108, 153–155, 182–183, 198; apparel 187; body weight 91; class-based 185; classes 54, 66, 99, 164; controlled 131; equipment 39; excessive 48; gymbased 1, 38; industry 5, 102; intensity 151; low intensity 90; performing technical 85; prescriptions 103; regime 123; rehabilitation 6; systematic 167; training 108, 193; warm-up 38 experiences 15–17, 21–24, 26, 29, 31, 65–66, 77–78, 98, 104–107, 112–113, 129–130, 132–133, 161–162, 164–165, 190–191; carnal 129; collective 133; consciousness 165; contextualising 186; of CrossFit 143; embodied 24, 53, 104, 115, 120, 164, 175; flow 29, 133; gym 32, 94, 99; immersive 132–133; individual 14–15, 20, 80, 88, 106, 115, 167, 179; lived 21, 23, 31, 126, 185; painful 134; personal 25, 31, 62, 106; physical 12, 14, 107, 112; positive 7; reimagine exercise 165; sensuousness of 117, 183; structures 25, 27 experiential 20, 23, 54, 105, 132, 153, 175, 183; embodied learners 126; ethnographers 54, 61, 153, 175; factors 105; methodology 56 eyes 66, 74, 76, 80, 83, 121–122, 150–151, 180 feelings 7, 14–15, 17, 28–30, 47–48, 78, 105, 112, 120–121, 124–125, 134, 155–156, 160–162, 181–182, 193–194; emotional 14; joyous 129; pleasurable 131; resonating 131; sentient 28 fees 91 female bodies 23–24, 44, 138, 140, 168, 181 femininity 44–45, 142, 167, 180 feminist researchers 44 fieldwork 54, 56, 175, 178 first aid kits 110

fitness 16, 39–41, 43–47, 82–83, 85–86, 89–91, 94, 98–105, 117–120, 140–141, 152–154, 156–157, 172–177, 182–183, 185–187; activities 41, 44, 62; aerobic 119; apparel 187; cardiovascular 135; clothing 157, 187; consumers of 41, 174; contemporary 37, 48, 67, 171, 173, 185; cosmetic 141, 181; CrossFit 117–118, 181; definition of 117–118; equipment 103, 186; everyday 67, 186; experts 16, 184; global movements 67, 91; goals 13, 71, 183; gym-based 107; and health 40, 47, 71, 91, 103, 120; identities 82, 175; industry 39–40, 98–99, 102, 103, 106, 108, 158, 182; instructors 87; levels 83, 103; lifestyle 39; magazines 39, 43–44, 65; modern 37, 173; objectives 183; outcomes 142, 182; phenomenon 4, 89, 94, 120, 154; physical 15, 37, 105, 160, 174; practices 83, 187; professionals 113, 179, 185; regulated 89–90; sport of 119, 129–130; technologies of 7, 103, 158; tourists 55; training 12, 27, 89–90, 98, 101, 106, 180; trends 72, 87, 174; and wellbeing 98 fitness cultures 1, 3, 5, 7, 9, 11, 13–15, 17, 32, 53, 56, 59, 85, 173, 177; changing 171; contemporary 16; depth of 105; exploring 173; and gyms 1, 53; mainstream 57 fitness knowledge 10, 77, 87, 94, 98, 101, 104, 109, 158–159, 171, 175–176, 179, 182, 184, 186; corporeal 75; embodied 175; individuals gaining 176; limited 76 fitness practices 1, 12–13, 66–67, 90, 94, 136, 160, 172–173, 175, 187; contemporary 171; housing 13; particular 74; regulated 94 fitness spaces 1, 12, 71, 87, 91, 94, 141, 179–180, 185–187; alternative 54, 176; broader 186; corporate 73, 176; functional 13; inclusive 176; industrial 67; remote 91; specialised 72 fitness tourists 55 Foucault, Michel 11–12, 38, 45, 74, 84, 104, 108, 113–115, 131, 160, 173 Frank, A.W. 20, 32, 59, 100 free weights areas 26, 59, 85–86, 88, 175 free weights machines 69 functional fitness competition 144 Fussell, S.W. 42, 45

206  Index gender 12, 14, 22, 25, 67, 75–76, 82, 139–140, 143, 155, 162, 167, 180, 186, 188; differences 161–162; emotion beliefs 161; emotion stereotypes 162; equality 167; ideology 167; inequalities 177; inequities 177; neutrality 177; norms 180; relations 23; restrictions 140 gendered 23, 172; bodies 24, 88, 106; dilemmas 79; exercises 45; membership of free weights areas 86 General Practitioner referral schemes 40 Glassman, Greg 90, 117 Glassman, Lauren 90–92, 118–119 globogyms 13, 16, 67, 74, 76, 83, 88–90, 93–94, 117–118, 125, 138, 141, 175–177, 184; local 138; mass scale budget 174; and modern lifestyle clubs 16, 67, 74, 83, 88–89, 93–94, 118, 177, 184 Goffman, E. 61, 79, 163 Gold’s Gym 39, 66, 72 government 102 Grace 120, 123–125, 199; completing 125, 130; conquering 120; executing 125; post 120, 124, 126 group membership 130, 175 groups 26–27, 39, 57–58, 80, 84, 101, 113–115, 131, 133–134, 142, 153–154, 158, 160, 167, 177–178; activity 99, 137; calisthenics 38; exercise classes 12, 23, 38, 153; training sessions 91 gym, identity (Ian Wellard) 192 gym bodies 12, 14–15, 17, 20–22, 29, 31–32, 53, 56, 62, 82, 171–173, 185, 187–188; conceptualising 15, 20–32, 94; emotional 173; explored 48; exploring 15, 20–21, 62, 173, 188; female 24; fleshy 15; sentient 94; situating 173 ‘gym floor’ 12, 66–67, 73–74, 78, 83–85, 87–88, 175 gym members 10, 56, 77, 84–85, 87, 179, 184; enabling and constraining 77; female 85–86; male 86; new 76; use of mirrors 87; young 81 gym owners 71, 75, 91, 134 gym practices 14, 17, 26, 37, 42, 83, 180, 185, 187, 193–194; alternative 12; disciplinary 181; discipline 12; extreme 40; intense 129 gymnastics 10–11, 16, 90, 92, 139, 154; competitive 10; starting 9

gyms 1–4, 5, 6–10, 12–17, 23–29, 37, 39–42, 44–45, 47–48, 53–56, 60, 65–68, 70–85, 87–90, 98, 171–185, 187–188; activities 12, 16; alternative 184; authentic 86; bags 53, 65; bodybuilding 72; boutique 40, 185; boxing 173; classes 154; clothes 76; comfortable 70; contemporary 17, 39–41, 67, 98, 171, 175; corporate 4; culture 15, 31, 54, 61, 82, 117, 127, 153, 173, 179, 193; daily attendance 23; educational 54; environments 10, 16, 27, 81, 83; experience 32, 94, 99, 180; fitness 37–48; free weights 68; hardcore 68, 70–71, 87–88; home 83, 91; independent 72, 88; journeys 3, 5, 172, 188; low cost 40, 74; male dominated 11, 80; members 16, 39, 89–90, 153, 171, 173–174, 182; modern 7, 38–39, 47; particular 6, 60, 87, 181; private 72; sawdust 39, 67–72, 74–75, 77–78, 83, 85, 94, 98, 140, 175–177, 193; settings 27, 54–55, 77, 179–180; spaces 10, 13–14, 16–17, 60–61, 65, 67, 69, 71, 73, 75, 77, 85–87, 171–172, 176–179, 181–182; specialised 73; structured 183; traditional 168; training 47, 57, 187, 191; users 13–16, 20, 22, 27, 41–42, 74, 77, 79, 83, 85, 141–142, 174, 176, 182–184, 186–187; walls 56, 88, 184 handlebars 74, 150, 159 health 13, 16, 37–38, 40, 42–44, 47, 69, 71, 73, 100–101, 103–105, 107–109, 155, 157, 182–183; commercialised 39; and fitness 40, 47, 71, 91, 103, 120; ill 100, 130; individual’s 101; knowledge 99, 101; maintaining 100; mental 143; physical 105; promotion pamphlet 105; unique self-reflexive 174 health clubs 39, 74, 76, 78–80, 173; civilising 84; commercial 39; exclusive 74; industry 39; machines 90; opulent 67 ‘healthies’ 82, 99 hedonism 28, 164, 183 hegemonic 6, 30, 179, 181; gender configurations 43; sporting masculinity 42, 178, 181, 188; understandings 181 Herz, J.C. 90 heteronormativity 8, 59 heterosexual performance 58, 140, 142

Index  207 heterosexuality 8, 80 Heywood, L. 12, 119, 123, 131–133, 140–141 high intensity interval training 12, 41, 185 HIIT see high intensity interval training hip joints 121 history 13, 27, 37, 41, 106, 114; cultural 99; long 162 Hockey, J. 23–28, 31, 125 homosexuality 81 Howe, D. 30 Howes, D. 24–25, 30 human bodies 21, 41, 152, 160 Husserl, Edmund 21 identities 13–14, 23, 26, 54, 57, 98, 102, 104, 139, 143, 171–172, 182–183, 186, 188, 191–192; achieved 136; collective 134; disabled 186; external 79; intersecting 142; perceived 193; physical 105 illness 100, 142–143 illusions 66, 82, 87–89, 142 image and performance enhancing drugs 46, 174 implicit heteronormativity 59 Inckle, K. 21 individual experiences 14–15, 20, 80, 88, 106, 115, 167, 179 individual responsibility for selfpolicing 131 individuals 12–14, 23, 28, 42–43, 45, 47–48, 70–73, 113–115, 118–120, 130–134, 138–139, 142–143, 145, 173–176, 182–185; broadening their self-perceptions 183; developing perfectionism 180; displaying their cultural competences 79; reinventing their identities 139; sedentary 39; surprising themselves at their achievements 136; who have been ‘referred’ to the gym for medical reasons 183 industry 47, 72, 99, 103 injuries 2, 6, 16, 22, 72, 80, 110, 113, 120, 130, 137, 142, 180, 188, 190; assessment 28; post 4; rates of 119; risking 142; sporting 181; threats of 188 instructors 10–11, 87, 99, 153–154, 156–158, 163, 165, 167, 175, 182, 193 interpretations 15, 17, 31, 56, 61, 99–100, 103, 105, 107, 115, 161, 172, 174, 197; corporeal 7; cultural 24; neoliberal 100; preliminary 55

IPEDs see image and performance enhancing drugs Jacuzzis 73 James, Ian 11, 16, 53, 61, 67–68, 94, 99, 110, 181, 193 Johansson, T. 29–30 Johnston, L. 85, 143 joint suffering 190 joints 10 joy 105, 131, 171, 183; carnal 191; ecstatic 188; and pleasure 180–181 kinaesthetic groundings 190 kinaesthetic sensorial terrains 94 Klein, A. 6, 14, 30, 42, 44, 129, 140 Knapp, B.A. 119–120, 140, 142 knowledge 6, 8, 16, 58, 60–61, 67–68, 70–71, 83, 86–89, 98–99, 101–105, 107, 113–115, 158, 184–185; ablebodied 61; carnal 24; current 182; developing informed movement 176; ethno-scientific 3; expert 38; gaining 26, 101; scientific 179; sedimenting 126; social 186; structures 105, 115; transmission 76, 183; visceral embodied 53 Krane, V. 44, 155 labour 13, 45, 47, 100, 157–158, 160–162, 167; aesthetic 157–158; emotional 160–162; manual 13, 47; physical 45; process 157 legs 47, 67, 84, 109–110, 121–122, 135, 152, 164; bleeding 110–111; impaired 180 life 2, 4, 6–7, 10, 14, 32, 54, 88, 107, 138, 182, 188, 190–191, 193–194; domestic 123; events 172; gym 11, 54; gymnastic 11 lifestyles 37, 39, 187; active 191; extreme 120; healthy 40, 100; modern 89 lifting 10, 30, 69–71, 81, 90, 112, 120, 137, 141, 178, 181, 188–189; knowledge 85–86; techniques 3, 5; weights 24, 29–30, 71, 188, 190 linear self-improvement 48, 130 Liokaftos, D. 39, 41, 72 low cost gyms 40, 74 lungs 122, 181 machines 47, 74, 90 male bodies 8, 14, 38, 80, 178–179; able 178; dominant 8; young 177

208  Index Markula, P. 44, 114, 155 masculine 3, 11, 26, 42, 57–61, 77, 80–82, 84–86, 106, 120, 140, 142–143, 175, 181; bodies 177, 181; competence 81; emotions 162; hierarchies 58–59; performances 181; sense of 3, 85; subcultures 58 masculinity 3, 6, 14, 37, 80–81, 88, 173, 178 material 12, 14, 16, 20, 94, 107, 186; construction 175; corporeal sociologists 53; object of perception 22, 172; resource 103 matted floors 121–122 Mazzetti, D. 46, 81–82, 140 McGill Pain Questionnaire (selfresponse survey) 113 members 7, 54, 56–57, 71, 74–76, 78, 80–81, 94, 129–131, 136–137, 139, 155, 157, 175–177, 184; experience 73; female 139; of gyms 10, 56, 77, 84–85, 87, 179, 184; legitimate 99; male 57, 75, 86; new 57; paying 61 membership 13, 71, 73–74, 83, 86; group 130, 175; gym 86; membership card 76; private sector 74 Merleau-Ponty, M. 23, 54 metrosexuality 43–44 middle-classes 8, 39, 57; affluent 39; fat cats 8 military 119–120 Millington, B. 39, 41, 174, 186 mind games 111 mirrors 2, 66, 87–88, 93, 150, 152, 181; full-length 81; large backlit 78; small dirty 77 misogyny 59 Mixed Martial Arts fighters 26 MLCs see modern lifestyle clubs MMA see Mixed Martial Arts fighters modern lifestyle clubs 13, 16, 67, 73–74, 76–79, 83–86, 88–90, 93–94, 117–118, 125, 140–141, 175, 177, 184; and globogyms 16, 67, 74, 83, 88–89, 93–94, 118, 177, 184; and spit and sawdust gyms 94 Monaghan, L. 46–47, 71, 77, 87, 141, 180, 183 motivations 8, 15, 41–42, 57, 71, 87, 101, 103, 109, 125, 139, 141, 155; common 42; finding 129; individual 42; personal 154 movements 4, 11, 39, 45, 83–85, 87, 89–92, 118, 132, 137, 140, 143, 181,

184–185, 189; anti-fitness 47; athletic 27; bodily 13, 83, 167; complex 85, 90, 132, 143; cultures 12–13, 15–16, 20, 22, 25–26, 28, 32, 56, 62, 115, 171–173, 177, 186; functional 141; gymnastic 87; heavy barbell 126; patterns 73, 90; routines 3, 90; skills 138; standards 131, 188; transgressive 140 muscle enhancing tattoos 43 muscles 3, 5, 27–29, 38, 44, 70, 81–82, 88, 131, 152, 158, 181, 191; biceps 67, 81; bulging 65; crackling 65; failure 24; mass 8, 10, 75; soreness 30, 189, 191; tissue 137; toned 44 muscular development 41 music 4, 26, 74, 76, 154, 165–167, 193; gangster 68; loud 68, 92, 166; play-list 17, 153; soothing 152 naked bodies 79, 127 neophyte researchers 59 norms 40, 45, 82, 104, 161; gender 180; objective 61; physiological 44, 89; socio-cultural 94 nudity 80–81 olfactory terrain 26–27, 86, 94 Olympic Games 4, 65, 67–68, 91–92 online communities 41 oppression 14, 20, 22, 59, 175, 179, 181, 185, 194; binary division legitimatising 75; experienced by women in the gym 12; multiple forms of 178; physical, social and cultural forms of 14; structural 186 owners 42–43, 76, 91, 184; see also gym owners ownership 91, 94, 120, 184; personal 184; and the role of the CrossFit box in developing 176; and a sense of belonging 176 oxygen debt 122, 125–126 pain 14, 16, 22, 24, 30–31, 106–107, 112–113, 115, 126, 128, 132–136, 141–142, 164, 166, 190; carnal 181; community of 136; culture of 30; lactic 135; logic of 30; physical 107, 110; re-articulating 134, 136; shared 16, 109; ubiquity of 134, 136; unpleasant 30 ‘pain cave’ 122, 126, 132, 134, 135, 136–137, 142

Index  209 painkillers 2 ‘panoptic’ institutions 84 participants 17, 21, 55–56, 60–62, 98–99, 102–103, 150, 153–156, 159, 165, 176, 178, 181, 184, 197; active 13; body 55; female 59; male 177; welcoming 14, 17, 177 Peloton cycling 185 perceptions 8, 15, 20–23, 38, 83, 102, 107, 111, 139, 172, 179; bodily 172; member 183; shaping 115 perfectionism 15, 37, 41–43, 45–47, 73, 82, 180, 182–183, 185; bodily 37, 41–43, 45, 73, 180, 182, 185; culturally constructed visions of 46; multiple cultural confines and constructs of 46; notions of 43; physical 15, 82, 183 performance 10, 14, 16, 56–57, 81–83, 86–87, 112–113, 125, 129, 131, 133–134, 138–141, 143, 157–158, 162–163; bodily 74, 81, 83, 156, 177–178; celebrating 185; elite sport 41, 142; markers 130; meritocratic 30; optimal 136; physical 120, 130, 138, 181; productive athletic 125; progress 106; regulating 125; skilled 137; specialisation 39; sporting 46, 178 personal 6, 26, 100, 139; empowerment 130; expression 188; histories 154; identities 6, 45; learning 129; qualities 40; targets 129 personal trainers 4, 10, 39, 68, 73, 90, 98, 101–104, 107–108, 113, 157–158; converting their bodily capital into economic and social capital 157; expert 87; helping to educate consumers 102; muscled 65; role of 101–102 personal training 39, 98, 99, 102–103, 107–108, 114, 177; gym-based 107; intimate 101; offering 88; private 40; situation 98; studios and spaces for 13, 40; texts 103 phenomena 61; contested 16, 117; emerging 56; intercorporeal 83, 142; shared 132; unique 173 phenomenological 15, 21–24, 172; approaches 21, 172; epistemology 22; framework 22; perspectives 172 physical 6–8, 10–12, 14–15, 22–32, 37–38, 41–45, 82–83, 99–101, 104–114, 126–127, 129–132, 140–143, 157–158, 172–174, 179–183; abilities

156–157; attributes 157; capital 3, 42–43, 57, 73, 85, 156–158, 188; exercise 123, 125, 154; practices 12, 41, 45; sensations 3, 6, 25, 81, 107, 164, 181 physical activity 2, 10, 15, 25, 27, 100, 104–107, 109, 113–114, 132, 191; behaviours 105; converting bodily capital into economic and social capital 15; and sport 10, 15, 25, 105, 107 physical boundaries 41, 83; establishing 60; imagined 142 physical culture 24, 31–32, 38, 113, 168; alternative 168; settings 31 physical movement 154, 183; effective 131; empowering 153; technical 141 physical perfectionism 15, 82, 183; aesthetic 183; imbues the owner with ‘physical capital’ 43 power 2, 68, 101–102, 108–109, 113–114, 117, 119, 130, 132, 158, 182; economic 113; Foucault’s interpretation of 113–114; oppressive 114; output 117; relations 8, 22, 104, 114; relationships 101, 102, 108–109, 113–114; symbolising 114 powerlifters 30, 68, 73 powerlifting 67, 76, 87 practices 12–14, 25–26, 30, 40–43, 45, 79–80, 83, 90–91, 94, 104–106, 160, 171–177, 180–181, 185, 187; bodily 43, 176, 187; changing room 80; consumer 120; corporeal 40; cultural 31, 134; dangerous movement 87; embodied 1, 8, 14, 85, 173–174; extreme dietary 174; gym-based 94; immersive 123, 142; physical 12, 41, 45; self transforming 183; sensual 25; sporting 25 programmes 73, 84–85, 90, 118, 153; fitness 102; intensive 107 progression 87, 130, 138; continuous linear 134; marking 119; monitoring 130; personal 130–131; potential 158 projects 8, 15, 39, 42–43, 46–47, 59–60, 80, 85, 87, 104, 172, 174, 176, 180–181, 183; aesthetic 181; body 43, 176; empowering bodybuilding 180; individual’s self-reflexive 42; openended 39 Pronger, Brian 7–8, 29, 45, 103–104, 108, 115, 158, 173–174, 179 protein 11, 27, 54, 75–76, 81

210  Index pull-ups 87, 109, 198–200 pursuit 24, 37, 39–40, 88, 104, 127, 143; addictive 124; constant 174; intense 187; narcissistic 80; never-ending 47; recreational 15 push-ups 91, 109, 139, 199–200 pushing 7, 10, 16, 30–31, 109, 112, 121, 130, 133, 135–137, 142, 152; the body to its physiological limit 137; to the edge of intensity 136; to the limits of one’s carnality 31 qualifications 54, 102–103, 154, 192; gym instructor 154; legitimate 103; professional fitness 54, 102; standard 103 qualitative researchers 53 quantitative research 61 Rate of Perceived Effort (self-response survey) 113 relationships 1, 15–16, 21, 56, 59, 100–101, 107–109, 113, 115, 120, 153, 155, 167, 172, 193–194; alternative 187; causal 46, 128; competing forms of 101–102; complex 10, 16, 107–108, 113; culture 55, 124, 171, 183; dyadic 180; emotional 12, 160; empowering 182, 191; positive 180, 185; of power 101–102, 108–109, 113–114 reciprocal 31; unequal 158 research 31, 53–54, 59, 61–62, 85–86, 98, 101, 120, 143, 145, 153, 155–156, 178, 187–188, 194; current 119; embodied 115, 172; evidenced based 105; intentions 56; interpretative 53; process 115; quantitative 61; sociocultural 102, 120; teams 61 response 3, 24–25, 30, 32, 42, 67, 72–73, 112–114, 132, 172, 174, 181, 185, 188, 193; affective 120; body’s 83; corporeal 123; hetero-normative 81; physiological 25, 113; psycho-emotional 179 rituals 23, 27–28, 73, 77, 79–80, 133, 136; bodily 79; motivational 61; routinised everyday 53 roles 4, 27, 54, 56, 102, 105, 107, 113–114, 143, 153, 160, 165, 185; active 54; alternative 54, 174; amateur athletic 79; domestic 23; formal 56; gendered 82; motivational 111; personal 145; professional 23, 56, 82; social 25, 100 RPE see Rate of Perceived Effort

sawdust gyms 39, 67–72, 74–75, 77–78, 83, 85, 94, 98, 140, 175–177, 193 self 2–3, 14, 16, 21, 23, 31, 45, 47, 54–55, 130–132, 134, 136, 183, 185, 191; competitive athletic 189; embodied 115, 172, 193; empowerment 131, 154; feminist 60; improvement 134, 139; masculine 181; perceptions 183, 192; political 59; private 74; quantified 47, 181; reflexive 1, 12, 15, 59, 172, 174; transformation 46; true 161 self-response surveys 113 self-transformation 16, 42, 45, 127 selfies 43, 81–82; in gym changing rooms 81; next 78; post-gym 82 sensations 7, 22, 24–25, 28–29, 59, 113, 126, 134, 150; bodily 24, 29; carnal 22; embodied 16; physical 3, 6, 25, 81, 107, 164, 181; stinging 10; visceral 126 sensuous bodies 1, 171, 174 sensuousness 14–15, 129, 153, 182 sessions 4, 26, 108–112, 126, 128, 133, 150–151, 161; one-on-one 39; regular 109; running 23; supervised 2; ‘swole’ 81, 191; timed 109; torture 150; training 54, 112 sex 14, 79, 143, 163, 182, 191 sex classes 91 sexual identities 6 sexuality 6, 8, 75, 82, 115, 142–143, 178, 186, 188 Shilling, C. 46, 99–100, 104, 113, 174 skin 3, 16, 81, 117, 122, 125–126 smell 10, 25–27, 76, 86, 151 Smith Maguire, J. 39, 102–103, 114 social constructionism 20 social groups 57 social interactions 73, 129, 175, 180, 184 social life 73, 156 social media platforms 43, 81–82, 140, 174 social spaces 8, 45, 79, 114, 125 sociological 15, 104, 163; accounts 129; analyses 1, 23, 171; considerations 98; embodied 15, 24; explanations 160; perspective 108; phenomenology 22–23 sociology 14–15, 20, 25; of the body 20; of sport and exercise 25 songs 151–152, 166 sounds 26, 122, 165, 167; bodily experience of 167; of the free weights area of the gym 26; senses of 25; of

Index  211 weighted Olympic bars being dropped 65 spaces 6–8, 10, 23, 25–27, 38–40, 66–68, 72, 74, 76, 78–79, 83–87, 106, 158–160, 175, 178–180; accessible 184; alternative gym 32, 171, 174, 185; changing 79; commercial 176; corporatised gym 73; cultural 24; disciplinary 82, 173; divisive 94, 180; educational 38; and fields of perception 23, 83; fitness 1, 12, 71, 87, 91, 94, 141, 179–180, 185–187; gender neutral 139; hyper-masculine 181; liminal 74, 78; male 85; private 77, 82; public 73, 81–82; quasireligious 45; reverential 67, 83, 94, 175; safe 11, 154; specialised 47, 87; sporting 6, 178 Sparkes, A.C. 7–8, 12–14, 31, 66, 188 spatial 13, 16, 25, 67, 75, 77, 83, 85–86, 89–90, 92, 94, 106–107, 159, 167, 185–186; analysis 16, 94; boundaries 127; gendered segregation 75; locations 67, 92, 171, 175, 186; organisation 85, 90; preferences 159, 167; sensorium structure 25 Spencer, D. 25–27, 67, 165 spin 151, 153–156, 163; bikes 150, 152, 160, 163; classes 155–157, 163, 166–167; instructors 158; room 66, 150, 153, 159–161, 163–164, 167; sessions 162 spinners 150–152, 157, 159–160, 162–167; advanced 150, 159; confident 159; experienced 159; female 17, 154; final 152; new 151 Spinning (fitness movement) 11–12, 16, 56, 73, 150–151, 153–157, 159–161, 163–167, 177, 181, 193; appeals to a wider demographic 153; classes 154, 158; instructors 161; playlists 166; qualifications 154; rooms 11, 73, 151; sessions 17; studios 11, 66, 153 spiritual benefits 182–183 spit 2, 4, 10–11, 13, 25, 27–28, 39, 67–75, 77–78, 83, 94, 113–114, 140, 175–177, 193; contemporary 72; and sawdust gym 10, 13, 39, 67–68, 69, 70, 71, 74–75, 77–78, 83, 85, 94, 173, 175–176, 193; typical 69–70 sport 2–3, 6, 8, 15, 24–28, 103, 106–108, 111, 113–115, 118–120, 129–133, 177–178, 188–189, 191, 193; amateur 106; benefits of 115; experience 131;

immersive 131–132; multiple 16, 90; outdoor 38; and physical activity 10, 15, 25, 105, 107; playing 71, 178; traditional 79 sporting 31, 80–81, 100, 179; activities 25, 99–100, 163; bodies 2, 10, 24, 177, 179, 188; embodiment 23; goals 2; identity 107, 131, 191; masculinity 6; participation 188; practices 25; subcultures 58, 142, 188 squats 4, 91, 109, 199; 1-legged 200; 95-lb overhead 200 State of the United Kingdom Fitness Industry Report 2016 74 State of the United Kingdom Fitness Industry Report 2018 41 steroids, anabolic 46, 68 structured embodied gym experiences 183 superheroes 89 surveillance 29, 41, 66, 74, 79, 82, 84, 88, 100, 125, 131, 139–140, 154, 174; carnal 77; constant 112, 184; continual 174; instantaneous hierarchical 76; technologies 186 Swan, P. 76, 80 sweat 2, 26, 54, 88, 111, 122, 126–127, 151–152, 193 sweating 6, 26, 65, 151 symbolic violence 59–60 teachers 38, 102–103 technologies 41, 93, 158, 186 tennis 5–8, 107–108, 191 tennis courts 73 tensions 102, 141, 143, 175–177; apparent 4; bodily 60; economic 158 thinking 15, 20–21, 66, 98, 100–101, 104–106, 110–111, 115, 154, 157, 163–164, 171, 173, 179, 189; current 15; differentiated 132; embodied 193; reflexive 115; scientific 186 trainers 11, 71, 101–102, 107–108, 158, 175, 182; experienced weight 85; female fitness 10; legendary Reebok Nano CrossFit 92 training 10, 68, 70, 72, 75, 77, 79, 85, 87–88, 101–102, 107–109, 129–130, 142–143, 176, 182; alternative 10; authentic 13; circuit 12; conditioning 107; exercise 108, 193; fitness 12, 27, 89–90, 98, 101, 106, 180; functional 89; intensities 109, 118; methods 71, 119; personal 39, 98–99, 102–103,

212  Index training continued 107–108, 114, 177; physical 132, 173–174, 180, 183; process 107; resistance 42, 191; schedule 109; teachers 104; weight 42, 191 training sessions 54, 112; joint 23; personal 180; physical 23 Tribal Clash 2015 Blackpool Sands, Devon, England 144 UK see United Kingdom UKSCA see United Kingdom Strength and Conditioning Association understandings 12, 15–16, 20, 26, 54, 58, 60, 100–106, 108, 118, 120, 136, 166, 168, 193–194; aesthetic 181; contemporary 100; corporeal 105; critical 182; dualistic 180; imperialistic 133; in-depth 133, 173; informing 188; initial 100; mutual 123; post-industrial 141; re-articulate 139; transcending 131 United Kingdom 6, 41, 46, 55–56, 74, 139 United Kingdom Strength and Conditioning Association Weightlifting Workshops 4 Vannini, P. 167 violence, symbolic 59–60 Wacquant, L.J.D. 82 walls 10, 65–68, 77–78, 88, 92, 121, 130, 150, 182 weight loss 138, 154 weight rooms 85 weight trainers 42, 84, 191 weightlifting 24, 71, 139–140; enhanced 139; Olympic 16, 84, 90, 123, 139, 176; particular 140; starting 71; workshops 4

weights 3–4, 10, 26, 30, 38, 67–69, 85–86, 88, 90, 92, 121–122, 137–139, 155, 157–158; bodily 46; free 3, 70, 83, 87, 90; heavy 4, 57, 65, 71, 81, 112, 143, 178; lifting 24, 29–30, 71, 188, 190; losing 101, 109, 155, 182; medium 135; moving body 90; normalised 155 Wellard, Ian 163, 192 wellbeing 40, 98, 105, 115, 141, 143 Western culture 15, 155 Western knowledge 12 Western society 1, 45, 100 Wild West Winterslam 2018; Cheltenham, England 144 WOD see Workout of the Day Wolcott, H. 56, 58, 185 women 10, 12, 14, 39, 42, 44–45, 59, 73, 75, 138–140, 153–156, 160–164, 167–168, 177–178, 181; experiences of using gyms 152, 181; journeys into Spinning 156; overheard discussing their food intake 155; perceptions of their bodies 44; sense of selfempowerment 154 workout 6, 14, 27, 29–30, 57, 59, 85, 110–111, 117–118, 129, 131, 164, 166, 181–182, 198; completed 61; individualised 125; intensive 108; proper 164; routines 6 Workout of the Day 57, 91, 117–119, 121–123, 124, 126, 128, 129–134, 136–137, 141–142, 181, 189, 190 world 2–4, 9–10, 20–22, 24–25, 59, 61, 76, 116, 122, 125, 187, 191; fantasy 89; internal 84; localised private 81; private brooding 4; social 83, 129 yoga 12–13, 40, 194 youth 8, 143, 191