Cc: You in the Pit

Tag: health

  • The Pit Is My Pilates: A Fitness Plan for Metalheads Who Hate the Gym

    Look, I do go to the gym. But not because I want to (sorry to my PT).
    I go because I love crisps, pints, beige food and living beyond 35. It’s transactional. Joyless. Much like a team-building away day or a conversation with a tech bro about creatine.

    So while everyone on Instagram is busy doing Hyrox and posting sweaty selfies with captions like “New PB #beastmode”, I’d like to remind the world of a different kind of full-body workout:
    The metal gig.
    Specifically, the pit.

    Because nothing builds core strength, cardiovascular resilience, and deep existential grit like trying not to die during a breakdown at 190 BPM.

    The Gig-Adjacent Fitness Plan for Girls Who Love Beige Food and Violence

    Warm-Up: Queue Cardio

    Jog to the venue because you’re late from work.
    30 mins of high-speed power walking in chunky boots with a bag full of meal deals and trauma.
    HR-approved and good for your glutes.

    Upper Body: Moshing

    Throwing elbows, dodging flying limbs, and holding your pint aloft like it’s the Olympic torch = peak functional strength.
    Bonus round: holding someone’s phone light during a ballad like your life depends on it.

    Lower Body: Two-Stepping + Pit Squats

    Your thighs? Screaming.
    Your knees? Ruined.
    Your spirit? Ascending.
    You haven’t known leg day until you’ve tried to two-step during Malevolence in Dr. Martens.

    Core: Barrier Bracing

    The barrier is your enemy and your best friend.
    Clench every muscle as grown men try to crush you against it to scream “BLEGH.”
    Also works your neck from trying to see over a sea of tall people and tactical mullets.

    Gym Class vs. Gig Pit

    Exercise ClassMetal Gig Pit
    £25 per class£4 tinny on the way in
    Reformer Pilates machineHuman bodies as makeshift dumbbells
    Stretch to whale musicStretch while dodging crowd surfers
    Protein shakeWarm Neck Oil and a singular crisp
    Instructor shouting “Push!”Bryan Garris screaming “EVERYTHING IS QUIET NOW”
    Cool-down & breathworkBeing held in a sweaty hug by a stranger named Dean

    But Is It Effective?

    Let me put it this way:

    I once came out of a Slipknot pit drenched, bleeding, and 700 calories down. My Apple Watch was screaming and my mascara had migrated.
    Try and get that kind of spiritual exfoliation from a Barry’s Bootcamp.

    Also, I haven’t pulled a muscle crowd-surfing since 2018. So technically, I’m an athlete.

    Closing Thoughts from a Beige-Food-Obsessed Gym Girl in Denial

    Sure, I’ll keep going to the gym.
    I’ll begrudgingly hip-thrust in the corner next to lads called Reece who exclusively wear Gymshark.

    But my real fitness home is sweaty, beer-soaked, and full of people who’d throw you over a barrier without asking your name.

    The pit is my Pilates.
    My HIIT.
    My Hyrox.
    My sanctuary.
    And it never asks me to eat clean or wear matching leggings.

    See you in the gym(?).

  • THE POST-FESTIVAL SURVIVAL GUIDE: How to Look Alive in the Office When You’re Dead Inside (and Outside)

    Image source: Clash Magazine

    So, you went to Download (or any other gloriously chaotic festival where deodorant is optional and pits are both metaphorical and literal). You screamed, you jumped, you lost your voice and your dignity somewhere between the circle pit and the portaloos. And now? You’re back at your desk, trying to remember your passwords and not visibly weep every time someone says, “Did you have a relaxing weekend?”

    Here’s how to survive the work week when your soul is still in a field screaming “Take me back to eden” with 10,000 other emotionally unstable adults.

    1. Hydrate Like You’re Apologising to Your Body

    You’ve replaced 60% of your blood with warm beer and adrenaline. It’s time to reverse the damage. Keep a water bottle on your desk like it’s your emotional support animal. Sip continuously. Refill frequently. Pretend it’s fixing you.

    2. Curate a “Functioning But Festive” Work Outfit

    You can’t wear your battle jacket to the office (unless your workplace is very cool or has no HR department). Opt for something monochrome to mask the emotional void, and maybe sneak a band tee under a blazer. Bonus points for looking “edgy professional” — minus the crowd-surfing bruises.

    3. Apply Concealer Like You’re Painting a New Identity

    Your under-eyes are telling a story. That story is “I haven’t slept since soundcheck.” Brighten them. Hide the existential dread. Use dry shampoo liberally. Pretend you woke up looking like this and not in a tent next to a stranger dressed like a human pineapple.

    4. Master the “Festival Flu Cough Mute”

    You’re still recovering from screaming to your heart’s content and inhaling mystery dust particles. Your lungs are staging a small rebellion. Use your meeting mute button like your life depends on it. Cough silently. Nod knowingly. If someone asks, just say, “hayfever,” and move on.

    5. Lower Your Brain Expectations

    You are not at full capacity. You are, at best, a shadow of your former self being powered by caffeine and vibes. Don’t try to innovate. Don’t volunteer for anything. Just ride out the week like the corporate ghost you are. You’ve earned it.

    6. Listen to Sad Music and Call It “Decompression”

    Your post-festival depression isn’t just a vibe—it’s a diagnosis (unofficially). Lean into it. Queue up the setlists. Cry a little. Call it “processing.” If anyone asks why you’re listening to Lorna Shore at 10am, just say, “Team culture.” They won’t question it.

    7. Avoid Group Chats Until You Emotionally Stabilise

    Everyone’s sending videos. Everyone looks alive and glowing. Meanwhile, you’re trying not to sneeze out confetti. Mute the group chat. Come back when your skin doesn’t feel like it’s made of sandpaper and regret.

    Final Thoughts

    Returning to work after a festival is like trying to merge onto a motorway in a car with three wheels and no windscreen. You will look weird. You will feel worse. But you will survive. And when someone dares say “You don’t look like someone who listens to that kind of music,” just smile, sip your water, and CC them.
    See you in the pit.