Eighteen months ago, I’d never heard of British Military Fitness (BMF). I was a 49 year old man, drifting to middle age, with a sedentary lifestyle and expanding waistline.

But, then I signed up for one of these websites that send you local offers on all sorts of things, from 5pm deals, to hot stone massages, and the like. One such deal was a trial session for BMF, at a park near my workplace. This was January 2013. I went along on a cold, frosty Saturday morning, wrapped up in four layers of sports apparel and a pair of gloves, for good measure.

Now, despite the fact I was heading toward middle age, I considered myself to be reasonably fit! For some years, I had cycled to and from work, albeit intermittently in the months prior to my starter class at BMF. Well, the weather had been poor, the roads were rutted with potholes and I was increasingly aware of my own mortality, with car drivers giving one the minimal amount of space possible on the road, I felt a life threatening accident inevitable.

So, as I said, I felt my level of fitness was good, perhaps just needing honed slightly. Boy, was I wrong…
My first class at BMF comprised of about fifteen souls like me, ranging in years from early 20′s to my age. The instructor took us through a warm up, which lasted about ten minutes, and consisted of arm rotations, heel flicks, knee highs, leg extensions and cardio.

At the end of the ten minutes, I wanted to die and was breathing from every orifice in my body. The four layers of clothing were starting to feel like a dead weight on my body, constricting my breathing, pulling me down, squeezing the life from me.
Worse was to come though! I was paired up with a young woman in her early twenties to do a short session of sit-ups. The group were told: right, maximum effort for next 30 seconds, as many sit-ups as you can do.

Well, fifteen seconds into this, my abs (??) were creaking; I was slamming my backside into the ground to help lever myself up from the prone position, and all the while my young companion was looking into my face saying: come on (old man) you can do it…just one more!

The heat I was feeling from the four layers of clothing was compounded now by the heat of embarrassment, as I struggled to keep my dignity.

The rest of the session continued in a similar vein, finally ending with a warm down, a cup of tea and some home baking. But, here’s the thing: I enjoyed it, and so did most of the group there. I signed up there and then for six months, thinking that if I lasted that long, I’d be doing well.

Eighteen months later, I’ve worn out three pairs of training shoes, lost almost two stones without even altering my lifestyle, and become leaner and fitter than I’ve ever been in my life.

The things I like about BMF:

• It’s outdoors and not in some stuffy gym.
  
  
• It takes place in all weathers; hail, rain, or shine. There is actually nothing better than running through puddles, especially muddy ones. It’s completely satisfying!
  
  
• It pushes you to find your optimal performance. So often I see people out jogging on their own, and I can tell from the way they run and look, that they are not pushing themselves, they are simply going through the motions. BMF encourages you to push to the max, in every exercise.
  
  
• It lets you realise your potential: no matter how hard you work on an exercise, with a couple of minutes rest, you realise your body has more to give and you’re ready to go again.
  
  
• The group factor in BMF works wonders through: comparing progress against your peer group; encouraging each other to push harder; and general camaraderie.
  
  
• Lastly; it is the 60 minutes of the day where I truly switch off from life. No matter how grouchy; tired; stressed or pre-occupied I feel, BMF tunes me out from that and takes me into my fitness zone. I’ve never been one for believing all that endorphins crap, but it does work. BMF releases something in my body that makes me feel good!

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