Shortly before his 65th birthday, Bob Cheek flew to the United States and showed up in a 24-hour gym in California. He had heard about this new form of the gym in an Australian magazine and ended himself in front of one in San Diego to observe its operations. A man answered the door and informed him that he could not enter since he was not a member. “I asked, ‘Can we chat briefly about this gym?'”
The man explained how Cheek was managed, stating that it was only seldom supervised and that members may let themselves in at any time. “What a brilliant concept!” he exclaims with a grin. He could not wait to open one upon his return to Tasmania. He previously owned a high-end, money-losing gym. Therefore, I needed to act.
Cheek has a distinguished career. He was raised on a farm in northern Tasmania by his parents before becoming a professional Australian rules football player. As this profession was drawing to an end, he shifted to journalism and became the editor of a Tasmanian newspaper. He also “dabbled in a few commercial ventures.”
While many of his footballing contemporaries got into the bar business, he was more interested in fitness and invested “with different degrees of success” in gyms.
As he lamented to a buddy that politicians did not comprehend the difficulties of small businesses, his friend advised him to “put up or shut up.” So, in 1996, Cheek ran as a Liberal Party candidate and was elected to the Tasmanian legislature, becoming opposition leader in 2001 until losing his seat the following year.
He left politics without a substantial pension and with a failing business, unsure of what to do next. He states, “This is a pretty good incentive to get moving.” “I wanted to continue living my life whatever. I never considered myself to be elderly; aging has never concerned me.”
When we speak by Zoom, Cheek, age 78, is in a hotel room in northern England, having cycled over the North York Moors that day as part of a cycling journey that will ultimately take him from Dublin to Copenhagen. He states, “It’s just a task.”
He borrowed funds to open his first 24-hour gym in Hobart, the capital of Tasmania. “It was a gamble. If things hadn’t worked out, I would have likely lost my home and everything else.” Initially, he claims, it was difficult to get the local government authorities to agree.
“There were no 24-hour gyms in existence. They believed they would become the hub for drug delivery and murders. They could not imagine that anybody would enter the building at night without supervision.”
The first location launched in March 2009, and Cheek anticipated its popularity from the beginning. It was significantly less expensive than most gyms and appealed to a broader spectrum of people, including shift workers who desired to exercise in off-hours. According to him, 700 people joined before the doors opened.
“I entered the parking lot on the first night and saw that it was crowded; it was a wonderful feeling. So we continued to build them.” Then, he began construction on the Australian mainland, typically repurposing defunct video rental stores whose open floor plans made them perfect.
Cheek, who had three children and several grandchildren, ended up controlling 37 gyms in Australia, with aspirations to expand into Southeast Asia, and he liked it. The majority of the members were under 40 years old, and he claims that being connected with so many younger people kept him young. Young people’s new gathering spots are gymnasiums.
In my day, everyone frequented the pub, but nowadays they frequent the gym. It was amazing to see so many young people and older people exercising and having a nice time. I’ll be honest: I was also making a decent amount of money.”
In 2017, he reportedly sold the chain for $50 million. He didn’t particularly want to and had previously declined offers, but he was experiencing troubles with investors, was in his seventies, and people were telling him it was incredible that he wanted to continue. “I had seller’s remorse for a long time,” he adds until the pandemic struck and he felt fortunate not to be operating fitness centers. He still misses the business, however.
He states, “It gave me a new lease on life.” My sixties were one of the best decades of my life, and I believe that my seventies will be even better. I am aware that health can play a significant role in this, but for me, entering my sixties was like soaring on a magic carpet. I didn’t even feel it — I felt like I was 35 years old again – and that has to do with having a sense of purpose, doing something, and assisting others.
I worked quite hard, but I thoroughly enjoyed it.” Even though he’s complaining about his sore back and neck after a day of cycling the Yorkshire hills, he’s smiling and pleased. “I’m currently searching for the next opportunity. I cannot ride a bicycle forever.”
