Fitting in for Fitness / A wool shed gym bringing wellbeing and motivation to Culverden
A natural disaster, a delicate introduction, and a ‘no dickheads policy’. Allan ‘Hendo’ Henderson’s creative and indomitable journey to bring wellbeing and motivation to a rural community.
It was 12.50 pm on 22 February 2011; a date-time group tragically stamped in the memory of many residents of the Canterbury region. Allan ‘Hendo’ Henderson was training a client in Les Mills gym, one hundred metres from 243 Madras Street. One minute later, the infamous earthquake struck, shaking Christchurch to its core. As Allan evacuated the gym, and the initial tremor had subsided, he saw the CTV building crumbled and smouldering before him, and began to dig away at the rubble in search of survivors. Allan recalls the synergy of effort between emergency services and volunteers most prominently, particularly as the search and rescue continued through five aftershocks and into the night. Although he survived physically unscathed, the incident was to shake up his life beyond that day. In the wash-up from the earthquake, both gyms that Allan worked at were, unsurprisingly, deemed structurally unsound, and Allan was collaterally made redundant. As you may have predicted, Allan’s home also became immediately unliveable, so he moved into a separate dwelling on a friend’s property in Culverden, one hundred metres from a neglected structure that was to become the focal point of his future.
A two-minute walk from Allan’s new abode was an abandoned, almost derelict wool shed. Its shearing stations, pens, runs and gates were still present; a slight lanolininduced sheen glossed upon many of the surfaces. To a pedestrian imagination it was what it was – a shed, perhaps useful for storing farm tools. To Allan, as he cast his gaze from corner to corner, wall to wall, the space reconstructed itself in his mind. ‘I always had a plan to run my own gym,’ he tells me. ‘On a shoestring budget, I had it ready to go in two weeks.’ In that instant, the Woolshed Gym was born.
Clutter was removed, but subtle reminders of its prime shearing days remained – sawdust is clumped beneath the lattice flooring and the distinct smell of lanolin lingers in the air – leaving every gym user with the knowledge that their workout space was born from sheer creativity. And in those first two weeks, and all the weeks since, Allan has incrementally equipped the gym with straightforward functionality. Metal beams have been refashioned into pullup bars. Boxing equipment has been slung from the roof. Even a library has been added in the ‘lounge area’, for mental fitness, of course. ‘I wanted to keep it simple and practical; no mirrors, no unnecessary creature comforts. Just a space for people to get in and train hard.’ He scans the room, almost as if ensuring that his standards have not lapsed. ‘My priority is to keep people functional and fit; to prevent them from being on a first-name basis with their chemist. That’s not a good thing.’ And then, with a nod of his head: ‘And if they enjoy themselves in the process, that’s a bonus.’
One in four Kiwis reside in rural areas, with that ratio rounding out a little at the younger and older ends of the age spectrum. Rural living is complete with many perks: tight-knit communities, cleaner air, less traffic, just to name a few. However, an area in which all rural dwellers are at a disadvantage, relative to city folk, is access to health and wellbeing services. Medical centres may be in excess of an hour’s drive from home, and some of those still struggle to employ full-time general practitioners. The story remains the same for preventative health facilities, Culverden being no exception. If Allan had not set up the Woolshed
Gym, Amberley would be the closest option, which, with a 40-minute one-way journey, would understandably dissuade anyone considering adoption of a fitness regime.
Allan ensured he adapted quickly to the fitness requirements of the local community. ‘Farmers don’t have mirrors out on their property to check if they’re lifting something correctly. They have to be able to feel that it’s right,’ he informs me. Cathy Berryman, a regular client from
Hanmer Springs, recounts how instrumental Allan has been for her physical wellbeing. ‘I’ve had a few knee replacements, which left me barely able to walk up the stairs. Without
Allan and the gym, I would have had no regular access to physical rehabilitation.’
The inequitable prevalence of mental health issues in rural communities is also of concern, with financial hardships, like that caused by the 2016 dairy industry crisis, being the main contributor to increasing rates of anxiety, stress, and, tragically, suicide. With a lack of professional support, and less access to creative, social and physical outlets, there is a fear that these rates could continue to spike. ‘From the start, I think a lot of farmers didn’t perceive working out in a gym as a “cool” thing to do. Perhaps they thought it was a thing for “chicks in leotards”,’ Allan suggests, with a wry smile. ‘This has changed. Couples are now coming to the gym together and finding joint training to be an effective outlet from farm life. An alternative focus; a new area to strive and seek improvement.’
The greatest challenge so far has been completely out of his control; one that he cannot overcome quickly nor forcefully.
It is the challenge of fitting in. Being suspicious of ‘outsiders’ can be explained by both evolution and anthropology; in other words, it is completely natural. For a small community where everyone knows everybody, where a delineation between business and private life is tricky to maintain, the presence of a new personality on the block does not go unnoticed for long. Whilst Allan understood this, it did not add any ease to his transition to rural work and living. ‘I felt that, coming from the city, it was a different mindset here. Smaller communities don’t let outsiders in too quickly,’ Allan recalls. ‘At the time I was a middle-aged single man living on someone else’s property. I’m sure people were hesitant to place their trust in me until I proved myself as trustworthy.’
I asked him whether, in hindsight, he believes that he may have overthought that perception at the time. ‘Maybe,’ he replies. ‘But what’s important is that after nearly nine years, I have developed a mutual trust with the community, and I try always to ensure that everyone’s day is made a little
‘It takes a lot of trust to maintain this place, and the community has looked after it.’
better when they walk through the gym doors, and perhaps give them a little more confidence to face the world on their way out.’
When I spoke to other members of the Woolshed Gym, I quickly discovered that his endeavour has had the desired effect. ‘Hendo really cares about improving our fitness. He trains us with a personal approach every time,’ says Anna Higginson, who has been attending the Woolshed Gym, along with her husband, for five years.
The functional layout of the gym is another favourite characteristic amongst the gym users. ‘It’s relaxed, but it feels real,’ continues Anna, ‘without the nonsense of other gyms where everyone feels they have to “look the part”.’
Josh Pitt, a long-time member, echoes these feelings. ‘You certainly don’t find annoying characters in here taking selfies of their biceps. The lack of mirrors probably has something to do with that,’ he tells me, not long after performing a 230 kilogram deadlift. ‘I’ve trained at city gyms, but all I felt was a pressure to have a six-pack set of abs and look good. Here, it is a raw exercise environment; everyone comes for the same purpose, to get fit and healthy, and unwind after work.’
Allan puts it a little more succinctly. ‘The gym has a no dickheads policy.’ I laugh. ‘It takes a lot of trust to maintain this place, and the community has looked after it.’