There’s a very specific kind of dread that creeps up on me during the Thursday and Friday of a plan-less weekend. I seem to swing between two extremes: feeling burnt out and broke with a diary full of dinners, drinks and events, or staring down a weekend with absolutely nothing to look forward to.

One such Thursday evening found me scrolling through my phone contacts, trying to entice someone, anyone, into a low-effort, low-cost dinner at mine. I tapped on the number of my friend Joseph (who insists I call him by his nickname, Face). He, like everyone else, let me know he was busy. My heart sank a little, the probability of a silent, solo Saturday rapidly increasing.

“I’m doing a hike on Saturday with Overnyte, though, if you wanna come through,” he added, just as we were wrapping up the call.

“Uhh, will it be hard? Will I know anyone?” I asked.

“No and no,” he replied. “Have a think and let me know.”

Face and I met in sixth form, and while we’re no longer in each other’s day-to-day, we keep the friendship alive through story replies, birthday drinks and bi-annual FaceTimes that last just long enough to feel like we still know each other. In the years since school, Face has poured himself into building community, fusing his love of music and fitness. With his friend Moses, he started training outdoors in Covid using little more than park equipment, old tyres and stray logs. Over time, other people joined. And from there, Overnyte was born.

In an interview with Men’s Health magazine, Face said that the Overnyte training sessions are, “the top two things I look forward to every week because of the camaraderie and accountability… I think it being accessible and free helps because it allows the community to grow in a very organic way.”

Now, I wouldn’t call myself socially anxious, but the idea of rocking up to hike with my semi-estranged friend and a bunch of people who bonded over burpees and pullups in their spare time had me well and truly fretting. I’m not particularly fit, I’ve never been hiking, and I didn’t know what I’d have in common with anyone. I journalled for a few hours, weighing up whether to stay in my comfort zone (and probably feel a bit sorry for myself) or throw myself into the unknown.

Eventually, I made a deal with myself. I’d buy new yoga pants to justify the hike, and if no one spoke to me, I’d turn the whole thing into a “life fail” TikTok and hopefully pick up a few new followers in the process.