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Inside the Punishing World of Kettlebell Sport — Where Strength Endurance Reaches New Limits

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Inside the Punishing World of Kettlebell Sport — Where Strength Endurance Reaches New Limits

Nobody trains at Wolfpack Fitness because it’s easy to get to. The first thing you see when you enter the lane that eventually leads to one of the country’s finest kettlebell gyms is a place called The Dog Paddocks, a doggy playground that according to the promo is ‘the perfect place for dogs to safely run, sniff, play and relax’.

Wolfpack is a further 50 yards back from the road and is essentially a couple of old stables – one housing functional fitness equipment and one specifically for kettlebells – located in a rural part of Nantwich, England. You know you’re in the right place thanks to sign with a picture of a kettlebell, next to a stern message warning people to switch off the lights and lock the gate if they’re last out of the gym. Even once I’ve reach Wolfpack, I somehow take another wrong turn and, instead of heading inside, I am treated to an impromptu solo tour around a small outdoor workout space. It’s stocked with battle ropes and rustic equipment (a barbell constructed from what looks like car wheel rims connected by a steel bar). It’s the middle of January; everything has been left out and has been softly dusted with snow. So far, consider me charmed.

When I finally make my way inside Wolfpack’s kettlebell space, I’m greeted by Oliver ‘Oli’ Mell, 41, a former Royal Marine turned kettlebell athlete, who’s waiting alongside a couple of his most decorated lifters. He’s warned me that the temperature is below freezing in Nantwich right now, and as I walk through the door, I see that he already has a few kettlebells warming next to an open fire for later use. Again, I’m charmed.

Mell is a practitioner of kettlebell sport, a little known ‘sport of reps’ where athletes aim to keep their ‘bell in the air for as long as they can and for as many repetitions as possible. Depending on their exact discipline that could mean snatching a heavy, 40kg kettlebell overhead for 10 minutes or it could mean lifting a slightly lighter, but still heavy, ‘bell for an hour (marathon) or two (supermarathon). In the marathon discipline, drop the ‘bell at any point and your score is null and void – meaning you may as well not have bothered picking it up in the first place. That makes it less about repping more than your opponent and more about doing battle with your own psyche.

Today, Mell has agreed to teach me some of the sport’s basic techniques, how to lift a kettlebell correctly and where to rest it to catch your breath. In just over a week’s time, he’ll be putting these techniques to the test himself when he attempts to beat his own world record of 1,227 reps of clean and press with a 24kg weight over the course of two hours. It’s an ambitious target, and he knows only too well that with a live event like kettlebell sport anything can go wrong.

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At last year’s World Champs in Denmark, Mell was also in pursuit of kettlebell glory, competing in four lifts: 30 minutes’ half snatch, 30 minutes’ long cycle, 10 minutes’ long cycle with a 40kg bell and 10 minutes’ half snatch. It was a hot day and before the first event he made the rookie error of over chalking his ‘bell. Within 10 minutes, he knew he was in trouble. ‘The state my hands were in, the fight changed,’ Mell says. ‘I knew straight away the task would be to not quit and to not put the ‘bell down. I might be remembered for that set more than anything else, which is why I feel like I’ve got to go back and prove that I can do it.’

His two-hour set is an opportunity for kettlebell redemption. It’s also, he hopes, crazy enough to draw attention to a sport that few people know exist and even fewer are willing to have a go at.

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A Brief History of ‘bells

It’s difficult to ascertain exactly who started swinging kettlebells first. Some people suggest the Ancient Greeks were the first people to use a weighted tool with a handle as a piece of exercise equipment. But everyone from Chinese Shaolin monks, Indian Kushti wrestlers and Scottish Highland Games athletes have trained using something akin to a kettlebell since.

In 1704, the term Girya, referring to a kettlebell, first appeared in the Russian dictionary. Back then it wasn’t describing a training tool but rather a counterweight, which was used by farmers to measure grains and goods. The tale goes that the men who used these weights soon began swinging and lifting them to show off their strength and the practice became a party trick they used at farming festivals.

Fast forward to the 19th century and Dr Vladislav Krajewski, personal physician to the Russian czar, who is also known as the ‘father of heavy athletics’, developed a system of weight training which included the use of kettlebells. Recent research by journalist Nick English and sociocultural sports historian Victoria Felkar suggests that he could have been inspired by a German lifter, with Germany now also being credited as one of the first places to employ kettlebell training.

Whatever its exact history, we do know the point that kettlebells started to move from training methodology to sport. In 1948, Russia, then the Soviet Union, abstained from the first post-war Olympic Games held in London. Later that same year, the nation held its own kettlebell sport competition where the champions from 15 Soviet republics travelled to Moscow to compete against each other in two events: the ‘long jerk’, which is a clean and jerk with two bells, and the ‘biathlon’, a set of jerks with two ‘bells followed by a set of snatches.

It took almost another half century for the kettlebell to gain international recognition. In 1998, the man widely credited with introducing the kettlebell to the United States, Pavel Tsatsouline published an article called ‘Vodka, Pickle Juice, Kettlebell Lifting and other Russian Pastimes’ in the US journal, MILO: Journal for Serious Strength Athletes. That paper, and Tsatsouline’s ability to sell kettlebell training, went a long way to swinging the kettlebell into the Western world’s consciousness. A few years later, in 2002, Rolling Stone magazine named it the ‘hot weight of the year’.

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Whether they know it or not, many lifters have been influenced by Tsatsouline since. Mell, for example, was working as a personal trainer when he first began to train with kettlebells, using them to train in the ‘hardstyle’ of kettlebell lifting popularised by Tsatsouline. Hardstyle uses many of the same exercises as kettlebell sport but instead of requiring athletes to be fluid and relaxed with the ‘bell, hardstyle practitioners rely on tension and ‘the grind’.

Mell discovered kettlebell sport a few years later, just as he was set to leave his PT career and join the Royal Marines. Four years on from that, after becoming one of the oldest people to pass out from Commando Training Centre, Lymstone and being deployed around the world, he left the Marines and began seriously competing, first as an amateur and then as a professional. Wolfpack Fitness started because he wanted somewhere to train that allowed him to share the mentality he forged while serving.

‘I was teaching kettlebells in various gyms, and I just couldn’t find somewhere that brought me back to that feeling of being in the open, doing different forms of very challenging physical fitness that weren’t as formatted as three sets of 10 reps type of thing,’ says Mell. ‘When I wanted to open my own place, my job was to create a gym I’d want to join and see if other people would want to join it, too.’

Why it Appeals to All Lifters Great and Small

What’s amazing and very noticeable about Wolfpack Fitness specifically, and kettlebell sport more generally, is the variety of lifters it attracts. As Mell says, ‘You don’t have to be athletic or 6ft. You don’t have to have incredibly long hamstrings. You don’t have to have a perfect lever for a press. You just have to put the time into the ‘bell.’

Łukasz ‘Luki’ Danielski, 41, is a former powerlifter from Poland. At 100kg, he’s a big, hulking man. His began powerlifting at age to 17 and by the time he’d finished, aged 30, he’d achieved a bronze medal in the 2003 Polish Championships, as well as a 250kg deadlift, a 250kg squat and a 187kg bench.

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Between finishing powerlifting and beginning kettlebell sports, Danielski took on an 80-mile ultra marathon around Loch Ness to prove that big guys like him can run too. ‘It’s not big challenge if your skinny,’ he says. ‘But if you have 100kg and more, this is a challenge for you.’ That’s his idea of ‘fun’.

Despite his obvious sporting prowess, the transition to kettlebell sport wasn’t easy. ‘When I tried my first lift in kettlebell, a 24kg ‘bell, it killed me. I say, “How is this fucking possible?” I know I’m strong, and this is only 24kg. It smashed me to the ground. You can be strong, but you need to know how you can use this power. If you don’t know how to breathe, you die.’

With Mell’s help, he learned how to use his power and has since won gold medals in the International Kettlebell Marathon Federation’s (IKMF) pentathlon (five lifts each performed for six minutes with a five-minute break between each) and World Games (a 10-minute one-arm half snatch using a 40kg ‘bell).

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His story and personality couldn’t be more different to those of Alistair Lee, 40, who found the sport as a final throw of the dice before major weightloss surgery. Before kettlebells, Lee had spent most of his adult life at around 172kg. Over the years he’d put himself through various crash diets and tried everything from triathlon to Muay Thai to psychiatry to help him lose weight. Four years ago, he was on the NHS waitlist for gastric band surgery – something that he desperately wanted to avoid. Giving lifting a go was his final attempt at losing the weight himself.

Once they started training together, Mell guessed that Lee’s strength may translate well to kettlebells and helped him get started, at this point for fitness not for sport. Three years later, he was the captain of the England team for the World Championship in Poland. He’s now a seven-times world champion, as well as a world and British record-holder. He’ s also got his weight down to a stable and manageable 115kg. He didn’t need the gastric band.

‘I always struggled with team sports because I always felt like I was letting the team down. I wasn’t good enough,’ he says. ‘This sport is a team sport. There’s a team around you. There’s a social group that you do it with. But equally, no one’s dependent on you to deliver anything. You just do your absolute best. That’s what I love about it.’

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Jonathan ‘Johnny’ Skinner and Del Wilson meanwhile are more friends of Wolfpack Fitness than regular members. Again, in terms of personality, they couldn’t be more different. Skinner is 42, brash, confident and cocky. He’s also one of the, if not the, best in the world at single arm jerk, who has won gold medals at competitions around the world and has a personal record of 172 reps in 10 minutes with a 40kg kettlebell. Wilson, 58, meanwhile is a mild-mannered former formula one race car technician who took up the sport in his mid 40s and has won world championships in Denmark (twice) Hungary, Spain, Belgium (twice) and Poland since.

How to Get Better at Kettlebell Sport

Most of the people who started their kettlebell sport journey at Wolfpack Fitness didn’t start off as athletes. In most cases, Mell explains, ‘They’ve been very average people and quite late in their life.’ But what they do all have in common is a willingness to work hard and a shared mentality.

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Mell brings up the term ‘beast mode’. He isn’t a fan. During his forthcoming two-hour attempt, he will have to go into a zone, but it’s not a place of anger, it’s a ‘mentally relaxed and peaceful place’. He won’t get to that place of zen by ‘flicking a switch’ or activating beast mode, he’ll get there by doing a little more each and every day in preparation.

‘It took 32 weeks of military training to turn me from a civilian into somebody capable of going and doing what Royal Marine commandos do,’ he says. ‘They’re never looking for someone who from the start can be this really hardened creature that will just destroy what’s in its path and operate in extreme mental circumstances. You do it in phases. And each time you do it, the phase gets more difficult.’

During my own training at Wolfpack Fitness, I progressed from a three-minute kettlebell set to a five-minute set. For Mell’s supermarathon, he’s been doing hour-long sets with a 36kg kettlebell (8kg heavier than the ‘bell he’ll be using for his record attempt). His speed sets, meanwhile, are done later in the week, when his hands have recovered, and with a 24kg kettlebell. Mell adds 15 minutes to his training duration each week, staring at an hour of lifting and ending, on week four, at 1 hour 45 minutes. His other athletes train similarly and alongside all of their ‘bell work they all put time into endurance cardio – running and rowing – and strength endurance doing 25-30 rep sets of deadlifts, leg press, squats, lat pull downs and shoulder press. Flexibility work is encouraged but optional.

It’s a demanding schedule, especially when you consider that the athletes are all older, with families, work commitments and are competing in a sport with little to no funding. Mell has a partner and two daughters. It’s not uncommon for his days to start at 4:30am and finish at 10pm. Bringing new blood in the sport is a definite goal and part of the reason why he chooses to out himself though challenging supermarathon attempts – for the spectacle and interest it brings to the sport.

Just before my piece on Wolfpack Fitness and kettlebell sport is due to be finished, I receive a text from Mell. It reads simply: ‘1,249 new world record’. A short statement of fact, which belies the blood sweat and tears that went into achieving it. One of the best endurance athletes you’ve never heard of has proved, once again, that he can still do it.

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The Best Kettlebell Exercises

If you’re considering giving kettlebell sport a go, build your foundations with these lifts, explained by athlete and coach Oliver Mell.

Snatch

Swing the ‘bell from between your legs in one motion to an overhead fixation. When the ‘bell is overhead and completely still the judge awards the rep. Drop the weight back between your legs in a single motion and repeat.

Jerk

The ‘bell is cleaned into the rack position and then jerked with a double dip. When the judge has awarded the rep the athlete lowers back into the rack position ready for the next rep.

Long Cycle

The kettlebell is swung between the legs and cleaned into the rack position and then must be fixed for the judge to see before the athlete performs a jerk repetition. Once the rep is awarded the athlete returns the kettlebell into rack position and finally back into the swing.

Push Press

Similar to the jerk, the athlete cleans the kettlebell into the rack position and then pushes the kettlebell overhead, using their legs to assist. Once the kettlebell is still overhead and the judge awards the rep, return the ‘bell to the rack position for the next rep.

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‘The highs are extremely high – but the lows are extremely low’: when working out becomes an addiction

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‘The highs are extremely high – but the lows are extremely low’: when working out becomes an addiction

At the peak of his adventuring career, Luke Tyburski was a man of extremes. The former pro-footballer, then in his early 30s, had dedicated himself to intense endurance challenges, of the sort that make a marathon look like a fun run. Beginning with the Marathon de Sables (a notorious multistage ultramarathon in the Sahara desert), he then ran the world’s highest ultramarathon at Mount Everest base camp, battled dehydration during a 100km run on a tropical island, and took on the vividly named Double Brutal Extreme Triathlon in north Wales. The endgame in all of this was a self-designed challenge, which saw him swimming from Africa to Europe, cycling through Spain and running to Monaco – 2,000km in total, in just 12 days.

Tyburski was a professional adventurer, financing his pursuits via magazine articles and speaking gigs, and even making a documentary about his quest. His whole raison d’etre was to push past his limitations, showing what a person is capable of when their mindset is strong enough. Yet, privately, he was dealing with depression, related to a loss of identity after the end of his footballing career, which took in Australia, the US and Belgium before he tried out for clubs in the UK. “Training and racing creates an escape, and the highs are extremely high,” says Tyburski. “But when I returned home from an adventure, the lows were extremely low, because I hadn’t addressed what I was running away from.”

He began to spend even more time training. If he was planning on doing a four-hour bike ride on a Saturday morning with friends, and a two-hour run on the Sunday morning – normal enough for a triathlete – he might fit in a secret training session on the Saturday afternoon. He developed crippling insomnia, which he used as a pretext to run what he called “midnight marathons”, and would binge eat between training sessions to prolong the high.

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Tyburski at the end of his 2,000km Ultimate Triathlon. Photograph: Courtesy of Luke Tyburski

It is possible to take on big endurance challenges without spinning out of control. Indeed, performing at your best requires a balanced approach to rest and fuelling. But in Tyburski’s case, they enabled a self-destructive tendency. All the hallmarks of an addiction were taking root: the secrecy, the persistence through negative consequences, the need for more, the sense of having something to escape. “But nobody suspected anything, because my weight didn’t change, my performance didn’t change, my demeanour didn’t change. I was a very good actor,” he says.

Exercise addiction isn’t officially recognised as a psychiatric disorder. In common with most behavioural addictions, it doesn’t feature in either of the key psychiatric manuals, the DSM-5 or the ICD-10. As a result, there are no standardised criteria for diagnosing it. You’ll often hear people describing themselves as “exercise addicts” – an affliction on a par with “chocoholic” – when rhapsodising about how much they love the gym.

That said, for a subset of regular exercisers, there is clearly something more damaging going on. Studies have suggested that around 0.3-0.5% of the general population may be dependent on exercise, rising to 3-9% of regular exercisers and athletes. Many researchers believe the framework of addiction is fit for purpose here. There is even a growing body of evidence to suggest that behavioural addictions function like substance addictions neurologically, through dysregulating the motivational pathways in the brain. Indeed, the phenomenon of cross-addiction – when a person replaces one damaging substance or behaviour with another – is well documented when it comes to exercise.

“The brain doesn’t necessarily care so much where it gets the spike of dopamine or serotonin from,” says Kanny Sanchez, an addictions therapist supporting patients within the Priory’s Flourish addiction treatment programme. “In all cases, there is the same need for an external source to come inside and regulate the internal turmoil.”

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Exercise addictions, he says, generally take the form of an obsession. Rather than being just another part of your day, exercise becomes the centrepiece, often to the detriment of everything else. You may keep training through injuries, and even experience a form of withdrawal when unable to work out. “Exercise in itself is a really good way of handling stress,” says Sanchez. “But if it’s the only tool you have in your arsenal, that’s when it becomes an addiction.”

Negative cycle … Micheál Costello, in his kit for team Optimal Endurance. Photograph: Courtesy of Micheál Costello

Micheál Costello, 30, is a PR account manager, writer and triathlete. He was diagnosed with depression and atypical anorexia at the peak of the pandemic. Before Covid, he had been working out a lot and practising intermittent fasting, a combination that provided a focal point for his anxieties but didn’t ring too many alarm bells. As the world went into lockdown, and Costello moved back in with his parents, his behaviours spiralled. “If exercise addiction could be formally diagnosed, I would have been diagnosed with it, is what my psychiatrist said at the time,” he says.

Atypical anorexia is a form of the condition where patients restrict their food intake but are not medically classed as underweight. In common with other eating disorders, it is often accompanied by excessive exercise. One study found that up to 48% of people with eating disorders show symptoms of exercise addiction. This may stem from body dissatisfaction, or compensatory behaviours around food, but there can be an emotional element too. “A lot of the clients I work with use exercise to get rid of unwanted and uncomfortable feelings,” says Stacey Fensome, a sports and exercise psychologist who works with the eating disorder treatment clinic Orri. “Exercise can be a tool to override the nervous system and generate a kind of numbness, as well as produce a release of endorphins.”

In Costello’s case, underfuelling and overtraining went hand in hand. He bought an exercise bike for the house and spent most of the day on it. “I would wake up, go for a walk, have something small to eat, get on the bike for two hours, do half an hour of bodyweight exercises, and an hour and a half of constant skipping,” he recounts. “That would bring me to evening time. I’d go for a 20-minute walk with my mum, and then I’d get back on the bike for up to three hours. It was a relentless existence, but I was also terrified to step out of it.”

It was only after some suicidal thoughts that he admitted to himself he needed help. While that help was not easy to come by – his GP dismissed his concerns as those of a “fine, healthy young lad” – he eventually received some talking therapy and a course of antidepressants. Further down the line, he discovered triathlon, a sport he credits as resetting his relationship with exercise.

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Costello competes in the London T100 Triathlon, August 2025. Photograph: Courtesy of Micheál Costello

“I wanted to do something with all the fitness I had built while I was in the midst of the eating disorder, and to shift my perspective,” he recalls. “I completed my first Ironman in 2023 and was hooked. I’m now training for my fourth one, and have qualified for the Irish triathlon team. I can’t abuse my body in the way that I used to if I want to be able to do those races.”

When you’re talking about these kinds of extremes – Tyburski’s midnight marathons, or Costello’s stints on the exercise bike – it’s obvious that there is something awry. But for many endurance athletes and gymgoers, it can be difficult to know where discipline shades into compulsion, and compulsion into full-blown addiction. For instance, the Exercise Dependence Scale, one of the main screening tools used by clinicians, asks participants how much they agree with the statement: “I continually increase my exercise intensity to achieve the desired effects/benefits.” This reads a lot like the principle of progressive overload – a key prong of any respectable training programme.

Similarly, some compulsive behaviours around exercise look innocuous enough from the outside. Fensome says they can include struggling to rest and have days off; prioritising exercise over other activities; being unable to sit still; choosing to walk everywhere; even using a standing desk. As red flags go, these are subtle ones. “Wanting to take care of our health is wonderful, but what is the intention behind it?” she says. “Is it because being still causes a lot of distress and fear, or is it because we actually want to be physically active?”

Arizona-based author Margo Steines. Photograph: Aidan Avery

A further complication is that exercise is socially validated, in a way that, say, a gambling addiction is not. Your “no rest days” approach may win you plaudits on social media; your body type may fulfil a societal ideal. Very few of the people around you, except those closest, are likely to express concerns. “I worked with one client who was doing extra training sessions and showing up early, and they were put on a pedestal for that,” says Fensome. “But what was actually happening was they couldn’t stop, and if they stopped there was a loss of control over who they were.”

Margo Steines, an Arizona-based author, has dealt with a litany of addictions and eating disorders in her life, but in some ways found recovery from exercise addiction to be the hardest. At the peak of her addiction, during grad school, she was spending seven to nine hours a day in various gyms. “I had a secret trainer who I would see before CrossFit, and then I’d go to CrossFit, and then I’d run, and then go to hot yoga and then martial arts,” she says. “I was neglecting everything else and getting the cascade of athletic injuries. But people would stop me in the store and ask what I did for my workouts. It’s easy to hide dysfunction because you’re not visibly underweight – you’re jacked and juicy and look great.”

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As she frames it, there were several layers to her addiction. Most obvious was the cultural layer, about wanting a very specific, idealised body type. There was a personal layer, about the fallout from a traumatic relationship. “Exercise allowed me to not feel how messed up I was from it,” she notes. Then there was the positive reinforcement from those around her, including doctors and therapists, who tended to toe the line that “movement is good”.

Only her partner, a strength and conditioning coach, recognised her issues for what they were. “I got very lucky, because he was my coach at the time,” she says. “He could see the red flags, but also knew how to approach me delicately, like a bunny in the woods.”

Exercise addiction can be just as damaging as other types of addiction; if you are underfuelling at the same time, you may develop overtraining syndrome, a condition characterised by a host of unpleasant mental and physical symptoms. “You can suffer with chronic injuries. You’re probably looking at hormonal disruption, burnout, low energy and low mood. There might be an element of withdrawing socially, like the social battery doesn’t even exist,” says Aaron McCulloch, co-owner and director at Your Personal Training.

Sanchez says there can be psychological, social and even spiritual ramifications too. “The mental toll that it takes, it’s just like a prison in your head,” he says. “The person will have a very external locus of identity, meaning their self-worth will be entirely dictated by how much they’re exercising. Missing the workout causes so much guilt and shame.”

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Heavy lifting … Steines in 2019. Photograph: Courtesy of Margo Steines

Since the birth of her daughter in 2020, Steines has been living with myalgic encephalomyelitis, formerly known as chronic fatigue syndrome, a condition that leaves her bedbound during flareups and naturally tempers her drive to over-exercise. While she can’t say for sure what caused it, she does believe it’s related to her exercise addiction. “I go in and out between being relatively sedentary and then working out like an average person,” she says. “On the outside, it looks like I’ve recovered. While I would say I’m two-thirds recovered on the mental side, I didn’t do the work to recover. It’s more like the exercise addiction got taken away from me.”

Tyburski, meanwhile, is “unofficially retired” from adventuring after the buildup of injuries and consequent surgeries. “In 2026, I’m paying for the detrimental behaviours of 2013 and 2014,” he says. “It’s taken me a while to accept, but I now have gratitude for the smaller things in life, to be able just to be active and healthy. Will you see me swimming between continents again? No, but when my body is ready to do it, I would love to go into the ocean for half an hour.” These days, he works as a keynote speaker and leadership coach, and says he’s in a good place.

Recovery from exercise addiction can be complex, not least because eliminating exercise altogether – as you would for drug and alcohol addictions – isn’t usually a desirable end goal. Yet however fraught a person’s relationship with movement, there are options available: entering a rehab facility, working with an understanding therapist or even leaning on peer support. Ideally, these could make it easier to spot the signs before the problem has spiralled out of control.

Costello likes to use the analogy of physical injury. “If you were experiencing a niggle in your ankle and you were concerned that it was tipping into something more damaging, you’d talk about it,” he says. “You’d mention it to a friend, and if it got worse you’d see a physio. I feel like we need to do the same with psychological niggles, to just be like, ‘Do you feel you’re getting a bit too anxious if you miss a session?’ You’d be surprised how helpful just talking out loud can be.”

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Does Medicare Help Pay for Gym Memberships?

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Does Medicare Help Pay for Gym Memberships?

Almost all Medicare Advantage members (98 percent) were in plans that covered some fitness benefits in 2022, according to a Kaiser Family Foundation study. These benefits take several forms, including membership in the popular SilverSneakers program for people 65 and older or its competitors Renew Active and Silver&Fit.

SilverSneakers provides access to more than 15,000 fitness locations across the country; online dance, exercise, meditation, stretch and yoga classes; and an on-demand video library of prerecorded workouts. A free SilverSneakers GO fitness app for Apple and Android phones is also available. Other Medicare Advantage plans also offer free gym memberships with access to a nationwide network of health clubs and exercise locations, personalized fitness plans and on-demand workout videos.

In addition to gym access, many plans provide incentives to stay active, such as a free fitness tracker every two years, discounts on a smartwatch or exercise equipment if you meet activity goals, or gift cards if you take certain healthy actions, such as exercising or getting a flu shot.

How do I find Advantage plans with fitness benefits?

To find Medicare Advantage plans with fitness benefits in your area, go to the Medicare Plan Finder, type in your zip code and choose Medicare Advantage Plan for the search. It will prompt you to put in your medications, but you can bypass that.

Next, you’ll see a list of Medicare Advantage plans available in your area. The Plan Benefits summary for each option will have a green check mark if the plan has vision, dental, hearing, transportation to and from a medical appointment, or fitness benefits. Click on the Plan Details button and scroll down to Extra Benefits for a summary of fitness benefits available. To learn more details beyond “Not covered” or “Some coverage,” you can contact the plan at the phone number at the top of the Plan Details web page or read plan documents on the insurer’s website, linked at the top of the page.

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Do Medigap plans offer fitness benefits?

Even though Medicare supplemental plans, also known as Medigap, don’t include fitness benefits as part of their standard coverage, you may find they include gym membership as well as discounts for dental, hearing, and vision services at no additional cost. Some plans offer low-cost packages to add these benefits.

Here, too, you can use Medicare’s Plan Finder tool to learn more about Medigap plans in your area.

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Quarantine Fitness Trends & Top Exercises During COVID-19

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How to stay active and motivated during quarantine

When your daily routines are disrupted, finding the motivation to exercise can be a challenge. The key is to build a new structure that works for you. Schedule your workouts as you would any important appointment to create commitment and turn intention into action.

Focus on consistency rather than intensity, especially when adapting to a new environment. Setting small, achievable goals—like a 20-minute walk or a short bodyweight circuit—can build momentum. Remember that any movement is better than none, and establishing a regular habit is the most important first step.

At-home and outdoor exercise ideas

You don’t need a fully equipped gym to maintain your fitness. Many effective workouts can be done with minimal or no equipment, either in your home or safely outdoors.

  • Bodyweight training: Exercises like squats, push-ups, lunges, and planks are foundational movements that build strength using your own body as resistance.
  • Yoga and mobility: Focusing on flexibility and movement quality can reduce stress and improve recovery. Many free resources are available for guided yoga flows and mobility routines.
  • Outdoor cardio: If you can do so safely, activities like walking, running, or cycling are excellent for cardiovascular health and provide a much-needed change of scenery.

The most popular quarantine exercises, according to WHOOP data

A recent study examined data from 50,000 WHOOP members between January 1 and May 15, including over 4.9 million workouts. This comparison captured exercise behaviors before and during social distancing, using March 9 as the cutoff—the week the World Health Organization classified COVID-19 as a pandemic and the US declared a national state of emergency.

The study tracked the six most popular exercises: running, functional fitness, weightlifting, cycling, swimming, and walking. It measured the relative frequency of each activity on a daily basis. As you can see in the graphic below, there was a significant uptick in running, cycling, and walking once social distancing began.

QUARANTINE EXERCISE MODALITIES WITH BIGGEST INCREASE

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Walking took the biggest jump, followed by running and cycling. The spikes on the graph show increased participation in all three activities on weekends, which continued during quarantine. However, with running in particular, the frequency of weekday and weekend participation became more similar—a lack of commuting gave runners more opportunity to get outside during the week.

The quarantine workouts that decreased

The three activities people started doing more of are all individual forms of exercise that happen outdoors—a needed break from being stuck inside. Functional fitness, which for many members was already a solo at-home workout, saw little change. Weightlifting and swimming saw significant decreases, coinciding with the closures of gyms and athletic facilities.

Other trends in quarantine exercise: Increased frequency and intensity

The sample of 50,000 WHOOP members exercised 1.1% more often once quarantine began. With many social activities unavailable, people turned to working out to pass the time. Exercise modalities like running and cycling require a high cardiovascular load, and members spent 1.8% more time working out in their three highest heart rate zones during quarantine.

The study also discovered improvements in several key physiological markers that WHOOP tracks, including sleep, resting heart rate, and heart rate variability.

Understand your body’s response to new routines

Adapting your fitness routine is the first step. Understanding how your body responds to those changes is the next. Are your new workouts building fitness without compromising recovery, and are you getting enough sleep to support your efforts?

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WHOOP quantifies the impact of your daily behaviors on your body. By monitoring your Sleep, daily Strain, and Recovery, you get personalized insights to help you train smarter, recover faster, and build healthier habits.

Frequently asked questions

Does exercise help fight a virus?

Regular, moderate exercise can support your immune system. Physical activity helps promote good circulation, which allows the cells and substances of the immune system to move through the body freely and do their job efficiently. However, it’s important to balance activity with recovery, as overtraining can place stress on the body.

Does exercise speed up COVID-19 recovery?

The relationship between exercise and COVID-19 recovery is complex and depends on the individual. Some research suggests that light physical activity during and after the illness may help with certain symptoms, particularly mental and neurological ones. It is critical to listen to your body, avoid strenuous activity while sick, and consult with a healthcare professional before resuming exercise after an infection.

How does WHOOP measure the intensity of a workout?

WHOOP measures the intensity of your activities by analyzing your heart rate. The Strain score quantifies the total cardiovascular load you experience throughout the day, whether from a specific workout or other daily stressors. By tracking how much time you spend in elevated heart rate zones, WHOOP gives you a clear picture of how hard your body is working.

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