PURE GYM, CRAYFORD

A place plagued by popularity.

IMAGE CREDIT: PUREGYM

Now, for almost every gym on earth that would be a big thumbs-up. In PureGym Crayford’s case, it’s the root of nearly every problem.

The warning signs are there before you even type in your PIN. The car park is like a mosh pit at a Slipknot gig. The windows are so coated in condensation you’d be forgiven for thinking the place was some kind of elaborate orgy-filled sauna, and as soon as the doors fold open your immediate reaction is, blimey, this is busy.

Peak times appear to be less of a window and more of a constant. You can be hovering for sometimes twenty minutes at a time waiting for a piece of kit to become vacant, which does tend to drain the joy out of a session rather rapidly.

That overcrowding is mirrored in the layout. When a chain gym opens, the right amount of kit is usually installed to fit the space. Anything added later doesn’t really have a home. Here, every new piece has simply been squeezed in wherever it would fit, and as a result the gym feels like it’s outgrown itself. Odd machines appear in corners like an unloved cousin at a wedding reception, and not all of it necessary either. The decline chest press, for example, feels like a solution to a problem nobody was having. I mean, seriously, what's the point?

You’re constantly negotiating space: stepping over people, waiting for gaps, jumping in as soon as someone moves more than two feet away from a machine. It’s not hostile, it's just tiring. Training starts to feel like a chore. Any feelings of anger just morph into disappointment.

It’s also worth remembering that PureGym attracts a very particular client base, and if that’s not your thing it can be a little off-putting. The low-cost, no-contract, 24/7 model is designed to attract everyone — and it does. But if you prefer a quieter workout without having to avert your eyes, ears and facial expressions from those around you, this might not be your natural habitat.

And yet — don’t get me wrong — this is still a damn good gym.

It’s a PureGym, so you know what you’re getting. The kit is solid and reliable. There are plenty of plates, six racks, dumbbells up to 50kg, a good range of bars, bags and balls, and everything is robust enough to survive even the most testosterone-fueled temper tantrum. It is a setting conducive to progress.

Now I would guess that the Crayford branch is probably due for a refit in the next few years, and if that happens a rethink of the layout would make a huge difference. Running the sled track through the middle to separate free weights from functional space would make far more sense than firing it towards a window. A few more plate storage racks dotted around. Better bar storage. And the class studio also desperately needs a door, so those not involved can actually hear themselves think.

Sometimes you get the sense the place would really benefit from actively trying to dissuade people from coming in — just a bit. Fewer bodies. More breathing room. Less condensation. Not quite so many under-twenties discovering curls for the first time and attempting to set a world record. Maybe just an acceptance that success needs managing, not endlessly accommodating.

Hopefully the new PureGym in Dartford will absorb some of the overspill, because PureGym Crayford’s problem isn’t quality. It isn’t equipment. It isn’t effort.

It’s that it has simply outgrown itself.

It’s still a good gym — a very good one, even. But at busy times it stops feeling like somewhere you go to train and starts feeling like somewhere you endure. And that’s a shame. Because with a bit more space, a bit of restraint, and the willingness to say this is enough, it could be excellent again.