CRAYFORD WEIGHTS AND FITNESS

Visiting the Schwarzenegger of the Kent fitness scene is more than just an experience, it's a discovery in every sense. You’ll learn more about yourself in a single visit than you ever will drifting around a Virgin Active.

IMAGE CREDIT: HUSSLE.COM

Even as basic as why you train.

Are you there to improve yourself, or to impress those around you? Do you carefully re-rack your dumbbells, or throw them to the ground in disgust and immediately lift your shirt to make sure your abs haven’t run away? Crayford provides the space for both approaches to coexist, but you’ll very quickly work out which camp you fall into.

But it’s as you venture deeper into this perennial plate palace that the discovery really begins. The place is vast. In fact, do me a favour and spend at least the first ten minutes of your workout exploring. Every time you think you’ve seen it all, you turn a corner and there’s more. You’ll finish what you believe is a complete shoulder session, as I did, turn around, and discover three more machines you should have used half an hour earlier. You certainly won’t be bored. And the layout, although a little labyrinthine does make sense. Plate-loaded downstairs, pin-loaded and cardio upstairs.

Which is when you'll realise just how much stuff there is to play with. I wasn't aware there were quite so many ways of training your back but Crayford literally has every angle covered. Lat pulldown, reverse lat pulldown, diverging lat pulldown, seated cable row, plate-loaded seated row hinged by the knee, plate-loaded seated row hinged above the head — it’s got more ways of pulling than a tangerine tanned Love Island contestant.

And pleasingly, amongst the faded grey steel and red leather you'll come across many and varied machines designed to do many things, some of which might make you stop and think. One machine for example I believe is designed to target the hip adductors, though unfortunately makes you look like a dog peeing up a wall. There's a plate loaded viking press (a great find). Monkey bars to practice your Gladiators’ Eliminator technique.

And it’s whilst experimenting with this mismatch of machinery that you will come across all one million uses for the wonder that is gaffa tape. Machines, plates, and even some of the people seem to have been given a second lease of life thanks to this adhesive marvel. It’s all perfectly functional, and quite charming, but you do get the sense that a lick of TLC here and there would make the place feel a bit more loved.

Which speaks to the big lesson Crayford teaches. This is a gym built on community, not polish.

There are classes available, but in reality that’s not why you'll go. The on-site kitchen is a nice addition, but it’s not replacing the Nando’s across the road. People come to Crayford for the shared obsession. The atmosphere gives you a lift before you even touch a bar. Everyone is welcoming, in a setting that knows exactly who it is for.

If you train purely for aesthetics, to the detriment of everything else, you’ll find plenty of like-minded individuals. If you train for performance — and actually enjoy the odd bit of cardio — there’s a group for you too. And you are all united by a love for training. You’re there because you want to train, not because your mum has nagged you into losing a bit of weight. Whatever your motivation, you’ll find someone ready to encourage you.

So, would I recommend Crayford Weights and Fitness? Absolutely.

Could I use it as my everyday gym? Personally, no. Don’t get me wrong — if bodybuilding is your world, go for it. But for me there’s a bit too much posing, a few too many vests, and rather too much sinew on display. Also, on a practical level, the car park is a bit limited, especially when it's busy.

But my main reservations both involve trousers. I'll explain.

Firstly, the posing room. A room where as soon as you walk it seems to be required to instantly drop your trousers. Why? In any other public environment, parading around in your pants trying to squeeze increasingly unnatural amounts of blood to various parts of your body would get you a visit from the police. Yet, here it is almost encouraged. I don't want to look at your sweaty dacks or your rapidly shrinking extremities whilst filling up my water bottle. Put it away.

This culture also encourages some of the less appealing workout behaviours: excessive grunting, dropping weights, and compulsively checking your reflection to ensure your biceps haven't disintegrated since the last time you checked them, thirty seconds ago. If that’s not your thing, you may feel slightly fish-out-of-waterish — even though everyone is incredibly friendly.

Secondly, you’ll need deep pockets. Membership sits at around £55 a month, or just under a tenner for a day pass, so it’s not cheap. That said, the price point does tend to filter out any teenage Eddie Hall wannabes, so there are some benefits.

But the main reason I couldn't use it everyday is for me, a gym like this is a treat. The sheer variety of kit compared to your average PureGym or Snap Fitness makes you feel like a kid in a candy store — or an MP with an expense account. It’s an experience. It's somewhere I want to visit every few months, soak it all in, try everything, and leave still wanting more.

Because gyms like this deserve to remain special. Crayford knows what it wants to be, and does it very well. So if you’ve got a tenner and a few hours spare, drop in. Park the rest of the world at the door (or wherever you can find a space), discover something new about you, the setting, and your training. Just for God's sake, leave your trousers on.