WELCOME TO THE PROGRAMME. Congratulations on deciding to get fit. Deciding is the hardest part. Which is lucky, because it’s the only part we’ll be covering, and the only part you were ever going to do.
This manual is for people who want to start exercising the way people “start learning guitar”: lovingly, in theory, with equipment, forever. Read the instructions carefully. Or skim them. We’re not your coach. Your coach gave up on you in Year 9.
Phase 1: Acquire the Outfit (Weeks 1–3)
No serious athlete trains without the right kit. Buy leggings or shorts that cost more than your weekly food shop. Add trainers engineered for a kind of running you’ll never do, such as “trail” or “ultra”. The only trail you’ll follow is the one from the sofa to the fridge.
Wear the outfit to the supermarket. To brunch. To answer emails. Strangers will assume you’ve just exercised or are about to. Both are lies. You are, in a very real sense, wearing a lie.
Activewear is the only clothing that does all its work through implication.
Phase 2: Install the Apps (Week 4)
Download a fitness app. Then a second, because the first one’s cartoon mascot is judgemental. The second mascot is also judgemental. They talk.
Enable notifications. Within six days you’ll get “We miss you!” and “Your streak is waiting!” Treat them like messages from an ex. Read them. Feel something. Do nothing. The app is now the only thing that checks on you daily. Let that sit.
Phase 3: Passive Cardio (Weeks 5–8)
Cardio means getting your heart rate up. Medical science hasn’t specified how. Approved passive cardio:
- Opening a letter from the council.
- Hearing your name in a meeting you were half listening to.
- Realising you’ve lost your phone, for the four seconds before you find it in your hand.
- Watching the last eight minutes of a sports final while claiming you’re “not really into it”.
- The GP surgery calling to say they’d like to “discuss your results in person”.
Complete three sessions a week. Most people manage it without trying. That’s not a fitness plan. That’s just modern life.
Phase 4: Strength Training (Weeks 9–12)
Strength comes from resistance. Fortunately, life is nothing but.
The Shopping Bag Deadlift. Carry every bag from car to house in one trip. Two trips is for quitters. If your fingers go purple, that’s the burn. If your back goes, that’s the next six weeks.
The Sofa Plank. Lie on the sofa. Reach the remote without moving your lower body. Hold until you realise the remote is under you. It’s always under you. So is the floor, and it’s getting further away.
The Duvet Wrestle. Put a duvet into a cover. Full-body workout. Builds core, shoulders and a deep respect for hotel staff, who are paid nowhere near enough for this.
Emotional Lifting. Carry the weight of every unread message. Reps are infinite. Gains are zero.
Phase 5: Talk About Exercise (Ongoing)
Studies nobody funded suggest talking about exercise burns the same calories as thinking about it. Which is none. They checked.
Practise sentences like “I really need to get back into it” and “I used to run, actually.” The word “actually” is doing all the cardio there. It’s the fittest part of you.
If a friend mentions a 10k, nod and say “I’ve been meaning to sign up for one of those.” You’ll be saying it at their 50th birthday. And their retirement do.
“I’m getting back into it” is a phrase that has been getting back into it since 2017.
Phase 6: Join a Gym (Annually, January)
Sign up for a 12-month membership. This is charity. Your monthly payment funds the people who actually go. They have better knees than you. Your money helped.
Visit twice. On the first visit, walk on the treadmill watching a cooking show. On the second, stand near the weights, look confused and leave to “grab something from the car”. Do not return. The membership will. Every month. The cancellation form requires a signature, in person, at a branch that closed in March.
Troubleshooting
Q: I’ve followed the programme and I’m not fitter.
A: Correct. Have you tried buying a foam roller and storing it under the bed next to the guitar?
Q: My smartwatch says I’ve done 1,240 steps.
A: It’s being generous. It’s also selling that data to an insurer.
Q: What if I accidentally enjoy a walk?
A: Don’t tell the app. It will expect things from you. So will your doctor. Neither of them will be satisfied.
Remember: fitness is a journey. Your knees are already planning their exit.