03/09/2026
ISLAND GYM
There are gyms you train at.
And then there are gyms that become part of your life whether you like it or not.
Island Gym is one of those places.
For some people, it was their first gym.
The place where they walked in at 16 looking absolutely terrified, pretended they knew how everything worked, then spent 20 minutes adjusting a bench.
The place where someone eventually took pity on them and said:
“Mate… you’re using that backwards.”
And that was it.
You were in.
You learned to train there.
You learned gym etiquette there.
You learned that if someone says, “One more rep,” they are almost certainly lying.
You learned that a bloke twice your age, wearing a vest older than you, could somehow still outlift you.
And you learned very quickly that everyone knew everyone.
Even the people who claimed they didn’t.
Because Island Gym has always been full of characters.
Proper characters.
The sort of people you couldn’t make up.
People who came in for an hour and somehow stayed three.
People who spent longer talking than training but still insisted they’d had a massive session.
People who gave completely unsolicited advice…
and annoyingly, half the time, they were right.
People who knew exactly who was training what before they’d even got through the door.
“Chest again?”
“Yeah.”
“You trained chest yesterday.”
“Mind your business.”
That sort of place.
And then, eventually, life happens.
People move.
They get married.
Have kids.
Change jobs.
Find a gym closer to home.
Some discover fancy health clubs with fluffy towels and cucumber water and pretend they’ve forgotten where they came from.
But they haven’t.
Because deep down…
they still know.
You can give them a swimming pool.
A spa.
A machine that counts every rep for them.
A bloke walking around folding towels.
Lovely.
But somewhere in their heart there’s still a voice saying:
“Yeah, but it ain’t Island.”
Because Island Gym was never really about having everything perfect.
If anything, some of the memories are there because it wasn’t perfect.
A machine made a weird noise?
You carried on.
A dumbbell looked like it had survived three wars?
Still worked.
Someone dropped a weight loud enough to wake half of Canvey?
Everyone looked over for two seconds…
then carried on.
Someone asked how many sets you had left?
“Two.”
Always two.
Even if you’d literally just started.
😂
And that’s the funny thing.
When people remember their old gym, they rarely remember the things you’d expect.
They remember the stupid stuff.
The bloke who always wore the same top.
The person who made that ridiculous noise on every rep.
The one bench everyone wanted.
The conversations that somehow went from training…
to relationships…
to football…
to absolute nonsense…
all during one rest period.
You remember people you haven’t seen for ten years.
You remember nicknames but can’t remember anyone’s actual name.
You remember walking in having a terrible day and somebody making you laugh before you’d even put your bag down.
And you remember when training was probably a bigger part of your life than you realised at the time.
Because you weren’t just building a body.
You were building friendships.
Confidence.
Discipline.
Stories.
And occasionally building absolutely nothing because you spent the entire evening chatting.
But we’ll ignore those sessions.
😂
And then years pass.
You drive past Island Gym.
You look over.
And for some reason you still check the car park to see if anyone you know is there.
You might even say:
“I used to train there.”
But there’s usually a little bit of pride behind it.
Because really what you mean is:
“That was my place.”
And sometimes you think about going back in.
Then immediately think:
“Christ… I bet someone will remember exactly what weight I used to bench.”
They probably will.
😂
Because places like Island Gym have a strange memory.
People come and go.
Equipment comes and goes.
God knows plenty of equipment comes and goes.
Someone buys a machine.
Decides it’s the greatest machine ever built.
Three weeks later:
“Nah. Get it on eBay.”
Then another enormous lump of metal arrives that looks physically impossible to get through the door.
Everyone stands looking at it.
Someone says:
“That ain’t going through there.”
And somehow…
it always goes through there.
Eventually.
😂
But underneath all the madness, there’s something genuinely special about it.
Because Island Gym has been there through huge parts of people’s lives.
People walked through those doors as teenagers and now have teenagers of their own.
People met friends there they still have today.
Some people met partners there.
Some probably met partners there they wish they hadn’t.
😂
People celebrated good news there.
People came in after receiving terrible news.
People trained through heartbreak.
Grief.
Addiction.
Stress.
Divorce.
Money problems.
Life falling apart.
And nobody necessarily knew.
They just walked through the doors and somebody said:
“Alright mate?”
And sometimes that was enough.
That’s why even the people who moved on can still love the place.
Because Island Gym doesn’t need you to train there forever for you to belong to its history.
Maybe you were there six months.
Maybe five years.
Maybe twenty.
Maybe you disappeared one day and never came back.
That doesn’t erase the chapter.
Your younger self is still in there somewhere.
Still trying to get a PB.
Still nicking someone’s bench the second they look away.
Still saying:
“Last set.”
Then doing another four.
😂
And perhaps one day you’ll walk back through the door after ten years.
You’ll look around.
Some machines will have changed.
Some faces will have changed.
You’ll probably say:
“Bloody hell, it looks different.”
Then somebody you haven’t seen in years will shout your name from across the gym.
And suddenly…
it won’t feel like ten years at all.
That’s what places with history can do.
They remind you of who you were.
And Island Gym has thousands of those stories sitting inside its walls.
So to everyone who trains there now…
everyone who trained there years ago…
everyone who disappeared…
everyone who moved away…
and everyone who keeps saying:
“I’ll come back one day.”
You’ll always have a place there.
Because you don’t really forget your first proper gym.
You might join somewhere newer.
You might find somewhere bigger.
You might even find somewhere with working hairdryers and towels that smell like lavender.
But somewhere deep down you’ll still remember the noise…
the people…
the absolute bulls**t conversations…
the sessions…
the laughs…
and that feeling when you walked through the door.
And you’ll smile and think:
“Yeah… Island Gym.
What a fu***ng place that was.”
