A productive morning routine is important in lockdown. Personally, I get straight to work, combing the internet exhaustively for home weights on sale. I tell myself: the early bird catches the Z-bar. And so another day begins.
For all the bookmarked products and online wishlists to my name, my laborious searching has rarely yielded any fruit. I quickly and cruelly learnt that there is no space for deliberation in this game. I will not make the same mistake again. When the perfect weight plates come back in stock, I will be ready. I know better than to try and bulk the order up to the free delivery threshold. Basket. Checkout. Ding ding.
The nationwide scarcity of home fitness equipment has fuelled the rise of the black market. Every Tom, Dick and Harry has taken to touting their much-used, crumbling equipment on the internet for an inflated price, be it a rusting barbell or a needless ab trainer. And here’s the rub: this is only the tip of the iceberg.
A quick note on the online ‘marketplace’. I would recommend browsing to anyone, as much for the bargains as for the pleasure of the unconvincing sales pitch (i.e. a blurry, out of focus picture with no product description). There are also some rogue sellers: last week a woman in Enfield was selling all her clothes in return for milk chocolates. The marketplace is a lottery, and I love to play.
The nationwide scarcity of home fitness equipment has fuelled the rise of the black market.
Back to the weights. Being a scholar of the bootleg fitness equipment market, I have compiled a guide to the five key types of fitness hustler that the internet has to offer.
The Opportunists
The Opportunist has stored a set of rust-covered dumbbells in their cellar since the late 80s. Lying unused, they have become part of the household furniture (a door stop, maybe). They have had a vague desire to throw them out for some time. Are they still safe to use? It remains unclear.
Nevertheless, the wily Opportunists were not blind to the clamouring for fitness equipment at the start of lockdown. Out came the dumbbells and up went the price tag: £100 please. Tetanus shot not included.
The Buy Low Sell High Corps
These conmen deserve some credit, for they have played a clever and calculated hand. They have devoted the same time and energy as I have to scouring the web; they have set up the same price alerts. And yet they have thrown egg on my face.
Without missing a beat, the Buy Low Sell High Corps bulk bought on Argos and Decathlon while equipment was still in stock. Now, their £15.99 Opti dumbbells sell for £100 a pop, with their ‘brand new UNUSED’ packaging giving them the edge over the Opportunists’ wares. The Buy Low Sell High Corps have really twisted the knife here: they are responsible for driving up market prices, selling out the affordable stock, and depriving muggins over here of her weight plates.
The Teasers
A far lesser evil and not really at fault, the big home retailers have played a tormenting game with the customers at their mercy. Argos’ fitness equipment has been labelled as ‘limited stock’ since March. I have systematically entered my postcode for every product and diligently checked availability for all stores in the country. I have never found weights available.
The same goes for Decathlon, whose website advised me that its iron 20kg plates would be back in stock by the end of the week. That was six weeks ago. If only they would tell it like it is.
NB. I am loath to say a bad word against Decathlon. Short of a squat rack and Olympic weights set, it has supplied me with the reasonably priced fitness equipment of my dreams, including, of course, my beloved weighted vest. Praise be.
The Entrepreneurs
This is the category of which I am least resentful, for it is home to some skilled individuals. Lockdown has given rise to commendable innovation, albeit of varying quality. Some inventions are patently unsafe, such as a ‘barbell’ I saw on Gumtree which was comprised of plastic bags of cement duct-taped to a broom handle. The maker chanced to advertise this for £30.
However, I have been impressed by the much of the homemade Flintstone-style Strongman wooden gym equipment I have seen online (tree trunks whittled into dumbbells; a smart wooden squat rack), fulfilling a functional and aesthetic purpose. What an excellent display of craftsmanship! What a fair price!
Lockdown has given rise to commendable innovation, albeit of varying quality.
I spied some less attractive weight plates made from car tyres, but their creator was a true salesman. He made the persuasive point in his product description that the tyres would nicely protect the floor. I have a lot of time for prudent thinking. He missed one trick, however: the feeling of brute Herculean strength to be gained from bench pressing car machinery.
The Optimists
The tell-tale mark of the Optimist is a Facebook Marketplace post which labels their desired product (not the one they are selling) as ‘free’. Friends, this is not how Marketplace works. The description will be chased by a disclaimer: ‘NOT free! NOT selling – hoping to swap these 3kg Everlast dumbbells for a bench and 50kg weights set’. Chance would be a fine thing! May your optimism never fade.
Not strictly weights-related, but my favourite Optimist so far is a man I found on Facebook, who posted a picture of his orange 2016 Specialized ‘Venge’ bike (a reasonable model) and asked to swap it for a Pinarello, Cervelo or Colnago (a professional standard frame of more than five times the worth). He has taken a bean to market and asked to trade it for a bar of gold. He is also slightly rude: ‘I will ignore your message swap only’. Don’t change your dreams, my friend. Change the world.
Last week came the rumour that gyms would re-open in the next month. At this stage in lockdown, I can make do with the equipment I have. And yet my search continues. The truth is this: it’s not really about the weights anymore. I am still drawn to the tantalising promise of bounty (forgive my mortal weakness). But really, it’s the joy of catching these wheeler dealers red-handed.
Emma Magnus
Featured image courtesy of Jonathan Borba on Unsplash. Image license found here. No changes were made to this image.
