Why I'm so cross with a number

I’ve told you about our local gym before.   It’s small – really small – and not remotely fancy.  It doesn’t open all the time cos it’s run on a shoestring – and the membership fees are paltry (yet, even so, a lot of local people can’t afford it).  But, anyhow, that’s all moot because it’s shutting.  We’ve just been told that 1610 (formerly Somerset Leisure) is closing the gym from the end of April. 

People are upset, very upset.  And me?  I’m cross.  Okay, so in the scheme of things, it’s hardly earth-shattering.  A little rural gym used by 80 people?  As someone said on Twitter, you don’t really need a gym to get and keep fit – you can do it all by yourself, using minimal equipment or even just your own body weight.  And that is absolutely true.  But this little gym is far more than ten cardiovascular machines, eight weight machines,  two mats, two fitballs, a TRX and a set of free weights.  It’s a little community. 

I’ve been to a lot of gyms.  But I’ve never been to one whose members’ ages spanned eight decades.  And I’ve certainly never been to one with such a bloody brilliant attitude.  Or such lovely people.  Which is why I’m hacked off it’s shutting. For me, personally, it's not the end of the world - I use it because it's there and it's great but I do have other ways of keeping fit. However a lot of people really rely on it and they deserve better.

The great irony is that it’s shutting down in the year this country hosts the Olympic Games. Our politicians lecture us that we’re overweight and underfit; they urge us to take up sport, to exercise, to move our bodies.  They're right: exercise is vital – our bodies need to move in order to stay fit and healthy.  Sure, you could get out there and walk/run/cycle/swim.  But you need to be motivated to do that and, let’s be honest, for a lot of people motivation is the toughest part of the exercise equation.  Trisha, one of the instructors, is one of life’s natural motivators. I have watched people literally change shape under her mentoring.  They shed pounds, drop dress/trouser sizes, go from couch potatoes to people who run marathons. Seriously.  I’ve also seen confidence grow, shyness fade away, depression lift, anxiety calm down. People have healed themselves at that damn gym, damnit.

There are people in their 80s there,  going hell for leather on the bikes, pumping iron.  Often more gung-ho and up for it than those half their age.  It was attracting those tricky teens too – and by heck, surely anything that encourages young people to get off their backsides and move is a good thing?  Trisha devised fun, safe programmes for children too, getting them moving, while also gently introducing them to the concept of healthy eating. 

I've met people there who are fighting cancer and yet more who have kicked that bloody disease into touch and use exercise as part of their regime for staying fit and healthy.  And people who suffer other illnesses, not just physical but mental too.  And there, I think, lies the true benefit of the gym.  Because it’s not just about the equipment, the machines, the regimes. It’s about the psychological benefits of belonging, not remotely in a forced or formal or regimented way, but in the quiet magic of a little ad hoc casual conversation; a smile; an acceptance; a tacit nod of support.

Exmoor is a beautiful place but it can be very isolating living here.  People often don’t realise that rural communities can be deprived just as much as inner city ones and West Somerset is officially classed as deprived. 

The gym acts as an unofficial support group to many people.  Members often drop by just for a chat, even if they don’t have time for a workout.  As far as we can, we help one another – we don’t pry, we don’t push but I guess we provide a listening ear, share suggestions, introduce helpful people.  You can’t put a price on that.

Yet, despite all this, the gym is closing because… Well, presumably because of money.  Or lack thereof.  But this is what I really don’t understand.  Apparently we needed twenty more members to go into profit. Just twenty bodies. Yet 1610 (yeah, I know, isn’t it such a stupid name? Can a number even be a name??) barely advertised the facility and seemed uninterested in encouraging more people.  Not long ago I wrote a long email to them suggesting ideas for boosting membership (family memberships, links with GP surgery, better marketing, etc. etc.) – I never received a reply. 

I can understand that times are difficult, funds are tight.  But 1610 is a non-profit making leisure trust - it’s not big business.  Their website says: ‘Our aim is… to help people live fuller richer lives through an active body and active mind.’ Oh really?  You could have fooled me.   

What will we do?  Fight, of course.  Because that’s what you do for things that are worth it, isn’t it?  You don’t roll over and give up.   So we’re going to talk to the local council; we’re going to get media coverage of the issue; we’re going to see if there’s a way of taking the gym into our own hands and running it ourselves.  Something Dulverton always likes doing.  Cos it may only be 80 people but they are 80 people I know and care about.  And, with a bit of enthusiasm and inventiveness and passion there could be a lot lot more of them.  So, if there’s any way you can help, do get in touch. We now have a website:  Exmoor Gym - and also a Twitter account - @exmoorgym - follow us and support us if you can.

And if you have something similar in your neighbourhood, please support it.  In tough times it’s the little things that make a difference, that help us get by. Don’t let them falter and fall through neglect.

Update (10th April):  Following a meeting a working group has formed and has drafted a detailed business plan showing the gym is totally viable. Our town council and the church are fully on side and we have had support from a wide range of people - both gym users and others.
We would like to run the gym as a registered charity (accountable to locals via the Town Council).  We are confident we can run it professionally and within budget, ploughing any profit back into the facility. However, to date, 1610 are refusing to discuss the issue.  They would not go on local radio to talk about it. They have refused to meet with the group or the Town Council.  They want to keep the gym - but keep it closed. Now where is the sense in that?  Without wanting to be a conspiracy theorist, you have to wonder why?

So we have a  bit of a David and Goliath situation. Our MP, Ian Liddell-Grainger, isn't being exactly supportive so far. Which is also interesting because it's his party which has advocated the 'Big Society' and this, surely, is localism in action, rather than just rhetoric.

So right now we are seeking press coverage - because, frankly, the situation sucks.  So, if you have any contacts and could spread the word, we would be very grateful.  Actually, I suspect it might make a darn good story. 

Can you get sick from missing someone?

While we were in Israel, Eva’s daughter was unwell.  My heart went out to her in spades – what kind of torture is it for a mother to be separated from her sick child? Particularly when you’re a 5-hour flight away?  And Eva’s daughter is still so small.  Unlike my hulking lad. 

James is a strapping 12-year old, rapidly approaching 13 – with the body of a jock.  He is fearless in rugby; a natural daredevil on the surf or up a mountain. His favourite pastime with his mates appears to be wrestling. But, oh, oh, that boy has the soul of an artist.  He feels.  He hurts.  So so deeply.  His hide might be tough but his skin is paper-thin.

We went through babysitters like water when he was small.  One night we actually got to go out without being called back after half an hour.  We returned to our isolated farm, punching the air. ‘We’ve cracked it at last,’ said Adrian.  Except. Hmm. There were four cars in the driveway.
‘She’s had a flipping party,’ said Adrian.

‘She didn’t look the type,’ I said, worry creeping in. 

Sure enough, the poor girl was frantic.  James had cried non-stop – for five hours.  She hadn’t wanted to disturb us so had called her mother…..who’d tried, failed, and called her mother….who’d tried, failed and called her mate, the baby whisperer….who couldn’t believe any baby could be so dogged, so determined. 

I took him in my arms and felt his little body, rigid with tension and exhaustion, relax. The crying stopped. The party broke up.  And so it went on.  Year after year.  But not now, surely?

The trip was so full-on, I barely had time to think or sleep, let alone keep in touch – two hours’ time difference didn’t help either – it was always too early or too late.  So we didn’t talk much.  James sent me links to YouTube of songs he thought I’d like (and I did - my boy is getting good taste).  I mailed back.  We Skyped a bit but it was kinda unsatisfactory – crap sound, time-lapse images and – is it just me or does everyone look like the Living Dead of Manchester Morgue on Skype?  Tell me people don’t seriously have Skype sex?  It’s just plain wrong - for aesthetic reasons alone.

Sorry, slight digression there.  Anyway.  I got back and Adrian came to pick me up from the station – with James.  On a school day?  What?  He was home sick? On the last week of term, missing the swimming gala, missing Sports Day? 

‘His stomach hurts,’ said Adrian with a shrug.

Ah. Those mysterious stomach ailments.  His appetite was fine – put it this way, he made serious inroads into the small mountain of snacks and sweets I had brought back.  Was it psychological?  Stomachs often hint at other problems – but he swears blind there is nothing bothering him, nothing worrying him at school.  And I’m loathe to dismiss it because last time we accused him of malingering, it turned out to be Lyme Disease.

But then, this morning, he just held onto me like he never wanted to let me go; like I was a glass of water in a desert. 

‘Oh Mum. I missed you so so so much.’

Can you be sick with missing, I wonder?  Was the cure a day or two of full-on hugs and kisses?  I dunno.  I’ll take him to the doctor to check it out but, you know, I think my boy is just plain exhausted. 

I figure he just needs some time and rest and a big big dose of love. 

 This is one of the songs he sent me...  :)