InstagramвЂ™s short videos lend themselves to fitness content people started following routines in the gym.ДЇitness movements have been around a long time вЂ“ think back to Jane Fonda, The Green Goddess and Mr Motivator вЂ“ but working out has become a lot more complex since the aerobics days, says Rick Miller, a clinical and sports dietician. The so-called world of вЂњfitspoвЂќ began as a niche way for gym nerds to share tips and document how their bodies changed, before spreading into a whole lifestyle movement. In the age of вЂњwellthвЂќ, a well-honed tricep is more desirable than the latest pair of designer shoes. TheyвЂ™re also paid to shift productsД«ut nowhere is full-on training more powerfully advocated than on social media, where inspirational quotes such as вЂњPain is Weakness Leaving The BodyвЂќ and вЂњSweat Is Your Fat CryingвЂќ are liked and shared millions of times.

The new stars create a false sense of what healthy looks like. Gyms run вЂњgo hardвЂќ promotions, with discounted packages for those taking up unlimited classes for short periods of time, such as 10 classes in 10 days вЂ“ the kind of training that many dub вЂњbinge workoutsвЂќ. Even Nike, which made its name with that inclusive Just Do It tagline, has taken to lambasting joggers in its latest ad campaign: вЂњIf You Like It Slow, Jog OnвЂќ, or вЂњYou Win Some Or You Win SomeвЂќ, proclaim its new billboards. A quick search for the #fitspo hashtag on Instagram brings up almost 47 million images вЂ“ people in workout gear lifting weights, close-ups of ultra-defined abs, bulbous biceps, вЂњtransformationвЂќ pictures (taken before and after fat loss) вЂ“ each one advocating a programme more punishing than the last. Figures from the 2017 UK State of the Fitness Industry report show that the sector is worth more than ВЈ4.7bn annually вЂ“ up more than 6% on the year before. And despite getting collectively fatter and more sedentary, the British spend record amounts of money exercising. Using Instagram, blogs and YouTube to get fit is fast becoming de rigueur. I should know better вЂ“ but it is psychologically intoxicating.вЂќ IвЂ™d be on Instagram all the time, looking at other peopleвЂ™s transformations. вЂњI was completely into it and the вЂcommunityвЂ™ of people online doing the same thing. Bound up in a big boot-like aircast, she struggled to walk for weeks and was told to avoid any weight-bearing training for months, until the bones have fully healed. An X-ray confirmed that she had stress fractures in two places in her foot. IвЂ™d skip other activities to work out вЂ“ because if I had to miss a session, IвЂ™d feel depressed and worried it would derail my progress.вЂќД«ut when вЂњniggling painsвЂќ in her feet and ankles developed into something more severe, Lisa was unable to go to work.

Sometimes IвЂ™d even do two sessions a day. I looked forward to it, talked about it all the time, got friends to sign up. As I got fitter, I began to really love the training. It was really challenging, with daily sets of high-intensity exercises, and I would frequently feel exhausted and totally out of breath by the end of it вЂ“ but I was on a high. The programme had several different levels so you could begin at whatever level you thought worked for you. вЂњThere were hundreds of transformations on there,вЂќ Lisa tells me. The 34-year-old had вЂњa bit of weight to loseвЂќ a year after having her first baby and, being both time-poor and on a budget, she decided to do it with the help of an online 12-week training programme sheвЂ™d seen advertised on Facebook. L isa Andrews was looking for a quick fitness fix.

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