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Why We Don’t Do (Many) Free Classes


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Quick question. If something mattered to you—like, really mattered to you—something like your physical health… would you treat it like a free sample at Costco?

Have you ever wondered why some gyms hand out free classes, free weeks, or first months for a dollar or something like that? This video is going to clear that up, and show you why we don’t do that at my gym—and why a lot of gyms like mine don’t do that either.

Hey, I’m Noah. I own Lumos Fitness Collective in Austin, Texas. We’re a former CrossFit gym that, for a number of years, has followed our own path. We unite a lot of different things under one small, sometimes leaky roof. We’re kind of nerdy, we’re very intentional, and one of the things that surprises people is this: we don’t really do free classes. At most.

We do one once a quarter when we remember to. And that’s not because we’re mean—I think we’re pretty nice—and it’s not because we’re elitist. The “Collective” in our name is not an accident. It’s because we care a lot about how people actually get better.

Today, I want to walk through the thinking behind that: the difference between exercise and training, the real cost of “free,” where on-ramps or foundations programs come from, and why not giving things away is often a mark of quality.

So stick around, because by the end you’ll know exactly whether our approach makes sense for you—and how to start if it does.


So first things first, let’s talk about exercise and training. This is the big technical one. Before we understand any of this, we need to understand that difference.

This usually boils down to intention, because movements, modalities, equipment—all of those can be used for either pursuit. The difference maker here is the why behind what you’re doing.

Exercise tends to be done for the enjoyment or experience of that session alone. Training involves greater purpose—specifically, the purpose to improve or build certain characteristics, usually in pursuit of a goal.

I can go on a hike to enjoy nature, connect with a friend, or just spend time off my phone. That’s great. That’s exercise.

But if I want to hike a big old mountain, I’d need to hike longer or farther each week, or with a heavier pack. That’s training.

Most free classes are designed for exercise programs. You drop in whenever, you do whatever. There’s no long-term thread.

Training, on the other hand, assumes continuity. It assumes you’re coming back. It assumes we’re building skills, capacity, and understanding over time.

And here’s the uncomfortable truth: free classes don’t usually select for people who want to train. They select for people who want to try a vibe.

Now, we do that occasionally. But when we do, we program very specifically so it’s appropriate both for the person trying us for the first time and for the friends who brought them.

Because if you just hopped into a class, it would be like jumping into Fourth Wing halfway through. You might enjoy what passes for writing. Or if you love sexy dragons or sexy people—or whatever is in that book—you might dig the vibe. But you’d be confused, and by the end, your understanding of the complex geopolitical themes of that novel would be… incomplete.

All right. When I said I wasn’t an elitist, I lied. I’m an elitist about books. Mea culpa.

Either way, I think we get the difference now. Exercise is random sweat. Training can certainly be sweaty, but it’s sweat with purpose. Exercise is “whoa, I kicked my own ass.” Training is “did that move me forward?”


That difference feeds directly into how gyms design their business models—specifically, long-term member models versus churn models.

Most gyms that offer lots of free classes aren’t doing it because it’s pedagogically sound. They’re doing it because one way to play the fitness business game is to win the volume game. High traffic in, high traffic out. Constant churn.

That model needs free, frictionless entry because it assumes most people aren’t staying long anyway. You get them in easy, sign them up for a month or two, bonus points if you make it hard to cancel, and boom—profit.

Our model is the opposite.

We build around long-term members. We want people who train here for years, not weeks. People whose names we know. People whose injuries, comebacks, strengths, limits, and goals we understand—and actually program for.

We have a wall at my gym devoted to people who’ve been here longer than five years. Our average member sticks around for more than three years.

I’ve been training some of these jabronis since I was a coach in Brooklyn. I don’t think they specifically moved to Texas for me—but I’ve never asked, because that would be weird. I’ll assume they did.

Free classes optimize for speed. Our system optimizes for durability. You really can’t do both at the same time.


Now let’s talk about the part nobody likes to say out loud: the real cost of a brand-new person.

A brand-new person is awesome. We love new people. But they’re also work.

A new athlete puts a huge cognitive and coaching load on a class. They need more eyes, more cues, more explanations—sometimes even directions to the bathroom. We draw the line at what happens inside the bathroom, but you do you.

That attention doesn’t come from nowhere. It comes from the coach, and often from experienced members whose focus shifts from training to welcoming a new friend.

That’s great—but you can’t have a welcome party every single day. When you flood classes with free first-timers, you’re taxing the people who are already committed, and you’re asking your best coaches to work even harder than they already do.

Now, if your gym doesn’t have expert coaches, I guess you can skip this part.

So what do you do if you want everyone to be safe, learning, and having a great experience?

You build introductory programs that protect the class experience—for new people and for everyone else.

Free classes skip that step. But make no mistake: the cost is still being paid somewhere.


And that brings us to where foundations or on-ramp programs come from—specifically, the CrossFit community.

I’d love to say we invented this idea, but we didn’t. It emerged when CrossFit jumped from a weird internet forum to equally weird warehouse gyms.

Good CrossFit gyms stopped doing free classes because they were teaching powerful, fun, high-skill movements—Olympic lifts, gymnastics, complex functional training. Those movements require education, practice, and shared standards.

So on-ramps and foundations programs were born. Not as a money grab, but as a safety and quality solution.

Whatever you call it, it’s a period before joining the larger group. We teach key movements, expose people to the culture and language, set up systems and apps, and establish expectations.

Some gyms do this in small groups. We do it one-on-one, for even more coaching exposure.

It’s about teaching people how to practice. Teaching skills. Teaching progression—and the value of progression. Teaching context. Helping people understand how things fit into the bigger picture.

CrossFit wanted to be the last workout you ever tried, not just another class on alternating Tuesdays. We’ve changed some things since de-affiliating, but we’ve only leaned harder into that idea.

My goal is that every new member is a member for life—as long as they like cool books.


So what does all of this add up to?

Often, not offering free classes is a mark of quality and scale. It signals that a gym values coaching time, class experience, and long-term development over short-term impressions.

You’re not paying for access. You’re paying for attention, structure, and standards. “Free” isn’t generous if it undermines the thing you’re trying to build.

And this wouldn’t be a complete me video without a quick dig at late-stage capitalism.

If you peel back the shiny marketing, you’ll see an inverse relationship between scale and free offerings. Planet Fitness at the top. Franchise gyms in the middle. Independent, family-run gyms—built from sweat, care, and community—at the bottom.

The big guys can afford to give it away, absorb losses, attract investors, and perform dark rituals in shadowy boardrooms wearing cloaks and antlers. I don’t know.

Okay. I got it out.

The real question is this: do you want large-scale corporate fitness, or do you want a place like Cheers, but for double-unders?


If this perspective resonates, take a second to like and subscribe. We want this channel to be about training, culture, and doing fitness in a way that actually lasts.

Here’s the takeaway:

Exercise is easy to give away. Training isn’t.
Churn models need free classes. Community models can’t afford them.
New people deserve context, not chaos.
Experienced members and coaches deserve it even more.

Foundations programs exist to protect quality—even for people who could jump straight into the deep end.

Sometimes, the absence of free is actually a sign of care.

If that sounds like your kind of gym, awesome. If not, that’s okay too. Clarity beats conversion every day.

If you’re local and thinking Lumos might be a good fit, the first step isn’t a free class—it’s a free intro. One-on-one, low pressure. We talk goals, history, and whether training here makes sense for you and for us.

Links are in the description.

And if you’re not local, now you know what to look for. Ask a gym how they start people, and why. Their answer will tell you everything.

Thanks for watching. Next week I’ll be sitting down with someone podcast-style. Hope you check it out.

See you soon. Later later.

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