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Andy Murray's secret fitness weapon? It turned me into a floppy dolphin
Andy Murray's fitness is a subject of intense interest. Gone the lanky teenager; enter the muscle-bound Wimbledon champ. His latest gym obsession is the Gyrotonic - a mix of yoga and ballet, enacted on a medieval torture device. Sarah Rainey limbers up
Andy Murray stretches at Queens Club in London Photo: XPOSURE
By Sarah Rainey
Gym classes are not my forte. Sure, the occasional emergency - eating my bodyweight in Ben & Jerry's; discovering that none of the clothes in my wardrobe actually fit - has prompted me to sign up for the odd yoga or pilates session. But I don't make a habit of it.
The truth is that I dread the thought of a room filled with toned uber-fitties, wearing infinitely better work-out gear and sweating in that radiant way that only supermodels do. I've contemplated dropping out. A serious pep talk, a shopping trip for a new (very stretchy) exercise outfit and a despairing examination of my flabby arms is usually required before I'm willing to walk through the door.
And when I do, I need to be eased gently into the class. "Now it's time to relax" is one of my favourite pre-work out phrases. The following have a similar effect: "Lie down and close your eyes"; "Leave all your worries outside"; and "This is going to be quick, easy and painless". Which, when you're doing something that involves sock soles, spongy mats and a soothing soundtrack, is normally what you'd expect.
The Gyrotonic machine. Photo: Getty Images
So when I walk into a chi-chi yoga complex in Primrose Hill, take off my shoes and pad past a café selling mung bean salads and vats of green juice, I'm pretty sure I know what I'm in for – and I'm ready.
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The changing rooms are filled with women who look like me; the background music is mellow; the air smells faintly of lavender. But then I meet my trainer at the door of the studio and make the mistake of glancing past her. What awaits me, can only be described as a medieval rack. With my blood pumping in my ears, I only just register her saying: "Now some people think it looks like a torture device, or some kind of S&M machine. But there's no need to be frightened."
Before I know it (and before I can even contemplate barrelling past her and heading for the nearest darkened room), I am face-to-face with the Gyrotonic expansion system. It looks - and this is no exaggeration - like a cross between something from the horror film Hostel and the Red Room of Pain, as described in Fifty Shades of Gray. At one end there are levers fitted on a circular axle; at the other are weights, pulleys and a terrifying mesh of ropes. In the middle is a long, leather-clad bench on which I imagine I am going to have to sit.
Andy Murray used Gyrotonic to stretch into shape for Wimbledon. Photo: Getty Images
There is only one person to blame for the agony I'm about to endure – and that's Andy Murray. For it is because of the Wimbledon champion that I've come to try out Gyrotonic: the latest exercise trend, imported from the US, said to combine elements of yoga, dance, swimming, gymnastics and tai chi. It was revealed last month that Murray has been using Gyrotonic to prepare for the defence of his SW19 crown. He is said to use the machine for up to two hours a day, having got a taste for it while training in Miami.
And so, in a desperate bid to emulate the nation's favourite grumpy athlete – or at least to improve my abominable forehand – I've signed up to a one-on-one Gyrotonic session at Triyoga's north London studio, where my very patient instructor, Aud Aasbo, is eyeing me with increasing suspicion.
I am, I tell her, a little intimidated. "I can see in a way it looks like a stretching machine," she admits. "But it's not that at all. Gyrotonic is all about creating space and lengthening your body. It feels organic and comfortable to use. It's the kind of machine that really gets into the cobwebs – but not in a painful way. You'll love it."
Somewhat less convinced, I let her talk me through the main principles. Invented by Juliu Horvath, a Hungarian ballet dancer who performed with the New York City Opera in the 1970s, it was originally called 'Yoga for Dancers'. Having torn his Achilles, Horvath retired from dancing and moved to a small enclave in the Virgin Islands in 1977, where he built a one-room hut and devoted six years to intensive yoga and meditation. He then returned to New York, where he began to teach the technique he had developed to dancer friends and, in the 1980s, pioneered Gyrokinesis (of which one element is the Gyrotonic machine).
Today, it's practised the world over. The founder – Horvath, now in his seventies, still leads the devotees – boast that there are over 2,500 Gyrotonic studios worldwide. Aficionados reportedly include Tiger Woods, Jennifer Aniston and Madonna (who, incidentally, Aud tells me, "used to do it in a studio just down the road").
Madonna is reportedly a fan of the balletic workout. Photo: AP
It's popular, primarily, among dancers and sportspeople: there is a machine at the Royal Opera House (used not only by ballerinas but singers, too) and it's a popular training method at the World Cup, with the German national team flying their machine over to Rio. The torture chamber - fondly known as 'The Cobra' by trainers - costs upwards of £3,000 to buy.
Once you get past the aesthetics of the thing (not to mention the terrifying nickname), the first step of Gyrotonic is to understand the movements. "It's based on spirals and circles, which is how the body moves naturally," explains Aud. "It's about warming up the spine, loosening the joints, balancing your system. It even" – and, at this, I perk up – "massages your organs."
Is that even possible? To find out, I mimic her warm up routine; a series of ducking, diving, arching and curling the back – which she, a former dance student at the Norwegian Opera Ballet School, does with poise and finesse. I do it with about as much élan as a floppy dolphin. I even emit the odd squeak.
Which is quite apt, because the dolphin – or, rather, the "reverse dolphin" – as it turns out, is one of the main Gyrotonic routines. I quickly progress on to the machine (either I'm a natural or Aud is politely speeding up the class to disguise my ineptitude) and we rattle through the four main series: arch and curl, hamstring, upper body and abdominals.
Sarah Rainey on the Gyrotonic
The first involves leaning forward while spinning the levers at one end in large concentric circles; the other three are more intensive, requiring me to lie down on the machine and push, pull and twist with any combination of my limbs on the various wheels and pulleys. It's undignified; it makes my legs shake uncontrollably and I'm sweating far more than is acceptable. But I'm not, contrary to first impressions, having a terrible time.
Aud has seen a spike in popularity of Gyrotonic and her customers hail from all walks of life; "from little old men to pregnant women". She can see the appeal for athletes such as Andy Murray. "You can make the movement quite sport-specific; you become prepared to move unexpectedly, so that would be great for returning a difficult shot. And, though this might sound a bit hippie, I notice that people who use it seem happier afterwards: they get a spiritual lift from the flowing, luscious movements." As we try out different routines on the machine – most of them, inexplicably, named after animals – I start to see what she means: that dull ache in my back, the product of too many hours hunched in an office chair, starts to lift, leaving me feeling bouncy and energetic.
Ninety minutes in, though, and I've had quite enough luscious movements for one day. I can, Aud explains, practise the stretches at home, without the machine; but I've become strangely fond of this odd apparatus. I might not be a complete convert yet, but I'm tempted to sign up for a few more sessions.
With continuous use, Horvath – whose English is, at times, dubious – claims Gyrotonic can bring a whole host of benefits: "natural ageing without too much discomfort, indulging in the gift of life and in one's body, and dancing free in the spirit". I don't know about winning Wimbledon, but if Murray keeps this up, he'll be the twinkliest-toed tennis player in town.
Four animal-based Gyrotonic exercises to try at home
The reverse dolphin: My favourite. Lie flat on your back, thrust your legs in the air and kick them together like you're doing the butterfly swimming stroke. Great for core strengthening and thighs; not recommended near breakable objects.
The octopus: Suitable for beginners. Sit on a mat in the middle of an empty room, making sure nobody can see you. Wiggle your arms in the manner of a hungry sea creature until exhausted / too embarrassed to continue.
The turtle: Scrunch up your abs and upper back, touching your chin to your chest. Reverse the movement, stretching out your torso like a turtle emerging from its shell. Do not do too quickly or unexpectedly, particularly if in company.
The frog: Lie on your back and kick your legs skyward, heels stretched far apart, in the manner of a leaping frog. If in an enclosed space, be less ambitious: aim for a swimming frog, or if especially restricted, a tadpole.
Find more information about Gyrotonic here or call 0207 483 3344.
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