I am not what you’d call a “gym equipment enthusiast.” I approach a chest press machine like it’s a financial document from 1998—confusing and slightly threatening. But Nuffield Reading has this magical layout where most machines have a little diagram on them. It’s like a comic book for your muscles. “Push here, you fool,” the diagram seems to say. And I listen.
There’s a huge free weights section, and yes, some people use dumbbells bigger than my head. But there are also plenty of the small, apologetic-looking pink ones. That’s the beauty of it—no one bats an eye if you’re lifting the bar alone. We’re all just here pretending we have our lives together, one wobbling plank at a time.
