The Sprightly Spud

“Mum – if I were rich I’d workout there.”

These were my words to Nicola upon meeting up with her again after my birthday treat to myself – a Barry’s Arms and Abs Bootcamp. At just £9 for my first time, I thought this seemed a reasonable level of expenditure for a good sweat, especially considering the gym’s SW1 location.

So, after a hearty birthday breakfast buffet, I donned my workout gear, and set off on the short walk from our Piccadilly hotel, through streets upon streets of gorgeous Belgravia architecture, to Eccleston Yard. Entering the square past a gourmet biscuit icing business, it did not take me long to realise that I was in a pretty affluent area. Of course, I had picked up my Pret oat americano on the way, so by the time the trainer called me in to explain how things worked, I was definitely adequately, if not overly caffeinated.

This brings me to the topic of the Barry’s trainer who was leading the class; George Lloyd. A model in addition to his PT career, he did not fail to provide eye candy for the session… spattered with tattoos almost as prolific as his muscles, George’s outstanding appearance was only equalled by his charming character. I was impressed.

At 9.30 exactly, a horde of lululemon clad London professionals, and little old me, strode purposefully into ‘The Red Room’. Thankfully, this was not a torture chamber. The studio was clad in floor to ceiling mirrors and decked out with a row of branded treadmills, and two lines of perfectly ordered bench stations. George began to pump up the tunes as he initiated the warm up, The Red Room began to take on the hybrid identity of a rave and a gym class. YES PLEASE.

Choosing the station of ‘F17’ at 10pm the previous evening (a random selection if I’m honest), meant my class began with a weighted arms and abs routine. As a lifelong runner, but relative newbie to strength training, I was significantly more apprehensive about how I would fare here, but I had the flexibility to choose my own dumbbells, and therefore the challenge level was ideal.

Approximately 10 minutes later, George ordered the cardio bunnies to bring their speed and incline back to zero, and it was time for our first switch. Grabbing my complementary sweat towel, I headed for T17, and began to ramp up the pace…

A combination of sprints, hills and steady running definitely had my heart pumping, but did not do anything to wipe the grin off my face. This was a good job, as I was staring at myself in a mirror the whole time. Embarrassingly, I did accidentally pull the treadmill’s emergency cord, resulting in it grinding to a jarring stop, and me narrowly avoiding falling flat on my arse. Like a muscular knight in shining armour, George came to my rescue, silently fixing the equipment without even taking a breath from the instructions he was firing at the class.

The cycle of weights and running was subsequently repeated, with slightly different exercises and a more intense running interval. I was pleased to be finishing on the treadmill, as it meant I could cumulate my workout leaving it all on the floor. When 10.30 rolled around I was flushed with endorphins, and still had a cheesy grin plastered across my face. The class had been loud, rapid paced and almost aggressive in its pursuit of seratonin. In my opinion, it was the perfect way to break a birthday sweat.

Despite suiting me down to the ground, I could see how the Barry’s boot camp would not provide the ideal workout for everybody…

Firstly, the intensity of the low lighting, pumping music, and bellowing instructor may have proven overstimulating for those who prefer a calmer exercise class, and despite the warm welcome I received from George, not one of the other participants even said hello to me, making me feel a little alien amongst these affluent 20 somethings. Additionally, although I could justify £9 for a one off treat, the hour long session would usually mean shelling out £26 per class, meaning it would be quite significantly over-budget for most of us.

All this said, I was by no means disappointed by my experience, particularly when I got to use the changing rooms… sparklingly clean, stocked with fresh, fluffy towels, and decked out with ample complimentary, delicious smelling toiletries – they provided a haven to recover from the high intensity training session, leaving me feeling fresh and ready to take on the rest of my birthday.

In conclusion, I can see the hype. There is no doubt in my mind that if I had the funds, and a Barry’s closer to me, I would be a regular attendee. But unfortunately, for now, trips to the ‘workout nightclub’ of my dreams will have to be an occasional treat.